Page 101 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“How long has she been talking to Prince Tiberius?”
“Does it matter?” said Beau, returning to his seat with a broad smirk.
“No.”
“Liar…”
Aislinn continued speaking to Tiberius for the rest of the meal, only glancing up once and giving Caer a short smile. It wasn’t nearly enough.
He chewed on another loaf of bread, fury in every bite.
Eventually, an aide came to Queen Venus’ side, and she clapped her hands. “My tailors have informed me they think they have found something suitable for each of our taller guests,” she proclaimed, her nose wrinkling slightly at their muddy appearances. Caerwyn hadn’t thought much of it, not seeing an alternative, but they hadn’t had a change of clothes in quite some time. The rest of the party were kitted out in fresh, new garments, their armour varnished and shirts pressed. Luna was wearing a particularly fetching dress of green and yellow, studded with silk flowers. It looked like she’d rolled in a meadow.
“I suggest you sojourn to your rooms for a fitting,” Venus continued. “We shall arrange for Prince Caerwyn’s demonstration before noon.”
Caerwyn’s stomach clenched. He hated using his powers at the best of times, only grudgingly following Diana’s suggestion with the birds because he hoped it might get him some control. But to take a life simply to prove a point…
He had no other choice.
“Of course,” he said, steeling his features.
For what felt like the first time, Aislinn looked up and truly, really, met his gaze. He could not read it.
Beau leapt to his feet. “New clothes? Sign me up!”
Back in his room, Caer found himself surrounded by tailors. He was shoved behind a screen and forced to change, which seemed completely pointless seeing as all of them descended upon him as soon as he was free from his garments, snatching up his discarded clothes for laundering and forcing him into a loose shirt of midnight blue, billowing at the sleeves and buttoned at the cuffs. It was as soft as a spring breeze.
The trousers came next, obsidian black, almost shining, and a pair of polished boots so fitting he wondered if they hadn’t measured his old ones during the night. Finally, a waistcoat was placed over the shirt, blue and black and silver, embroidered with a pattern of stags and trees and apples. Quick adjustments were made there and then.
The door creaked open.
“Caer?”
Aislinn’s voice. His skin prickled at the sound of his name on her lips. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he grew used to it.
He realised he likely would not, and his heart clenched at the thought.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to… are you dressed yet?”
“Almost?” he said, glancing at one of the tailors for any indication. They nodded. “Apparently yes.”
Within seconds, the screen was pulled away, and they began the arduous task of cleaning everything up.
Aislinn stood on the mosaic floor, in a soft blue gown that looked half like armour, half like the wind—a fitted bodice over a fine, billowing skirt, with metallic shoulders and delicate sleeves. Her shining hair had been partially braided, the rest running down her back, red and copper and mahogany in the light of the lamps.
She blinked at him. “What is it?”
He realised he’d been staring for quite some time. “You look good in a dress,” he said hastily. “You look good in everything, actually, butparticularlygood in that.”
Aislinn smiled. “Thank you. You’re looking rather dashing yourself.”
It seemed strange to Caer that he’d never seen her in a dress, that he’d likely seen her in barely anything other than her travelling clothes in the entirety of the time he’d known her. It felt like so much longer than it had been. He had this sudden desire to see her in more clothes, in more ways—in enough that it felt like he’d known her forever.
His chest tightened at the thought that that was unlikely to happen. As soon as Venus granted him sanctuary—and she was sure to once she saw his powers—Aislinn would likely be returning to the world above. Venus had been welcoming so far, but she would not want the future queen of Faerie under her roof for much longer, the peace between their people being tentative at best.
He wondered when she would leave.
