Page 37 of Duskbound

"He wondered why you never attend anymore. I didn't know what to tell him."

"What could you say? That father won't—" She stopped as footsteps echoed down the corridor.

A man appeared in the doorway, his formal attire still pristine despite the late hour. "Are you ready?"

"Father, I'm exhausted," the girl at the vanity said, setting down her brush. "Surely we could skip practice tonight?"

"The darkness is ideal for honing your gifts." His tone left no room for argument. "Come."

She stood, smoothing her gown before taking his offered hand. As they turned to leave, his eyes fell on the other girl. Something dark passedbetween them as she lowered her gaze to the floor. The silence that followed their departure seemed to echo through the chamber.

“Watch your step,please. Those are couture,” Effie said with a sigh, gesturing towards an open chest nearly blocking the entrance to her quarters.

I glanced down as I sidestepped the pile of glitter and silks. The room itself was simple. What you’d expect of a soldier's quarters. But it was far from empty. Stacks of trunks and ornate boxes filled nearly every available inch of the floor, their gilded edges clashing with the bleak surroundings. Every surface was covered in glittering brooches and the hair bobbles Effie was so fond of. Hints of colorful silks peeking out of overstuffed boxes. It was odd seeing so much color at once. I’d begun to believe they didn’t live outside of the grayscale.

“I haven’t had the need for my alterationist in so long.” Effie looked me up and down before shaking away a thought. “Pity it's for you and not me.”

We’d had alterationists back in Sídhe. Those who could change the appearance of others, painting their hair in different shades, drawing a natural rouge on someone’s cheeks—all with their focus. I’d even heard of some who could morph features, blurring them until the person was completely unrecognizable.

Effie plopped down on her bed and sent me a narrowed look.

“I know you’ve convinced the others that you’re not this wicked mastermind, but I’m still not sure about you.” She turned up her nose in provocation.

“Don’t worry, Aether is right outside.” I smiled sweetly.

“Perfect. Would you like to pick out your own gown?” she said, eyes trailing down me, an apologetic look crossing her face. “Perhaps I should choose for you? You’re quite tall.” She stood, skipping over to the open trunk on the floor, and began throwing its contents all over the room—across her settee, tangled in heaps upon her bed.

The sight of it stirred something in me, and I turned to look away, feeling the mist forming in my eyes. Esprithe. I wasn’t going to lose it now. Not in front of Effie.

But then Osta’s face drifted into my mind—her beaming smile in Emeraal, sitting on the floor, digging through a chest so similar to the one Effie knelt before.

My heart sank, feeling the pain I’d successfully trapped somewhere unreachable now seeping out like cracks in a dam. Between my dream from last night and this, it seemed as though the universe itself was torturing me with reminders of her.

I sucked in a slow breath, trying to fight the quiver of the sound, hoping it was drowned out by Effie’s chaotic hunting.

“What’s your color?” she asked, excitement tinging her voice.

I nearly broke right there.

“I—I don’t know. Black,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Even as my back was turned, I could feel the shift in the room, the weight of her eyes on me. This was the last thing I wanted. For her to see me like this—for any of them to see me as weak.

“Are you… crying?” she said, a hint of confused amusement in her voice. “I mean, if you really want to pick it out yourself, you can… I fear it could be tragic, and I do have to be next to you all night… But I could do it, if?—”

“It’s not about the dress. I’m fine, just choose one,” I repeated, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt.

Awkwardness crept in as a few silent moments slipped past, neither of us saying anything. I heard her gently rustling with the fabrics again, but not with the same vigor as before.

“Are you… okay?” she asked, her voice neutral, but strained. As if neutrality didn’t come easy.

“Yes. I said I was fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. You know, I cry sometimes. I’ve heard it’s a splendid way to reduce stress and balance emotions.” She spoke as if she were trying to fill the silence, not quite sure whether to direct the conversation. “It’s healthy, I’ve heard.”

“Sure.” It was the only word I could get out. Even her bubbliness despite the strain in our acquaintanceship was like her… Osta.

“Okay, well… we do need to start preparing for the evening. It takes an hour to get to Stravene. We don’t really have time for… I mean, we should be of haste.”

I turned back towards her and nodded, hoping my face wasn’t nearly as sad as I felt, and wasn't nearly as red as the feeling gripping me.

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