Page 41 of The Darkness Within Us

“How about this one?” I ask, pointing to a dark pink brocade.

Eryx glares at me. “You know very well how I feel about pink.”

“No, I know how you feel about dusty rose. This is magenta. Entirely different.”

“Call it what you like, it’s still awful. No pink.”

The tailor, Mr. Asker, orders an attendant to whisk away the material. Argus and Dyson silently stand in a corner, observing.

“How about blue, then?” I ask, pointing to a vibrant swatch.

“I told you. I have no wish to look like a peacock.”

Gods help me. “This is what men wear. It is the height of fashion. I cannot assist you if you remain unreasonable.”

Eryx turns to the tailor. “Do you have anything darker? Or less colorful? Maybe both?”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Mr. Asker says. He snaps his fingers at his assistants. They flee to the back rooms for more fabrics.

I sit on the nearest chair while we wait, remembering the look on Mr. Asker’s face when we first entered the shop. It was priceless.The distaste for Eryx’s workman’s clothes and leather jacket! I had to refrain from laughing.

When Mr. Asker’s men return, a series of blacks and browns and dark grays are presented. Eryx perks up.

“No,” I say.

“Yes,” he says. “This is much better.”

“You cannot order your entire wardrobe out of three swatches of fabric. Everyone will think you’re wearing the same outfit every day. This is not suitable for a duke. You need color. You need variety. This is boring. Why am I even here if you’re going to disregard everything I say?”

Eryx turns to the tailor. “What’s your opinion, Mr. Asker?”

“While I could make you a handful of appropriate attire from these colors,” Mr. Asker says carefully, “I’m afraid the duchess is correct in stating that other courtiers will think you’re wearing the same outfit repeatedly if we overdo these swatches. You will likely stand out and be the topic of gossip.”

Dyson says, “As if the fancy folks won’t be gossiping about his return as is.”

“You need to blend in,” Argus says.

Eryx groans. “I know.”

“If I may, Your Graces, propose a compromise?” Mr. Asker asks.

“Please,” Eryx answers.

Mr. Asker leaves to fetch more fabrics with his assistants, and I cross my legs where I sit, maintaining an upright position. I give Eryx a studious glance.

“We’ll fix your posture,” I tell him.

“My posture?”

“You slouch, and your face is too stern when it’s at rest. No one is going to wish to approach you if you look like a grouch.”

“Would the courtiers prefer I put on a fake smile?”

“I don’t know. Let me see it.”

His lips turn up, and it is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen. Like a grimace with lips pointing upward.

“No, that’s definitely not better,” I say. “Can you really manage nothing more natural?”

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