Page 166 of Spoils of war
A man walked up to us, his eyes landed on Kalani and didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. But I saw the way her body responded, how her shoulders drew in, her jaw clenched. She didn’t speak.
“We’d like to purchase—” Will began.
The man cut him off. “Which performance?”
“Ehm, the Dahlia,” Will said.
Something shifted in the man’s face, barely noticeable, but it was there.
He gave a single nod. “Four tickets. Eight silvers.”
Aran let out a short scoff. “That’s absurd.”
“Eight silvers,” the man repeated, his voice calm and flat.
Will shot Aran a look, then nudged him hard with his elbow. Aran muttered something under his breath, but pulled out the coin pouch. He counted the money slowly, with visible disdain, before dropping it into the man’s waiting hand.
“The performance begins at the ninth hour. Formal dress is required.”
His gaze returned to Kalani. Slower. Measured.
“Thank you,” I said quickly, cutting off whatever insult Aran was about to sling. My fingers found his sleeve and tugged him back with me. We ducked around the corner into a narrow alley that reeked of smoke and alcohol. Kalani leaned against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She was breathing too fast. Shaking.
“We’ll need... new clothes,” I said. Kalani looked down at herself like she hadn’t even realized what she was wearing. How disheveled she looked.
“Oh, yes. But I have no mo—.”
“No no, it’s on us.” I said before she could finish her sentence. I had a feeling Aran might have stolen money from the serpent, the man in the alley and probably the robber too. His coin pouch really seemed endless at that point, but I realize it wasn’t. He was just refilling it constantly, in the wake the ceaseless violence that seemed to follow us. Followme.
Faerwyn was full of expensive shops that didn’t want people like us. But five streets over, we found one that let us in. I do wish I could erase the memory of how the saleswoman looked at us when we stepped through the doors though, like she wasn’t sure whether to call for security or take pity on us. But then she smiled and waved us in. The shop itself was stunning. White and silver everywhere, wide windows covering the walls from floor to ceiling, casting soft light over racks of fabric. Every color I’d ever seen was hanging in that room, and some I couldn’t have named if I tried. The woman wore a sage silk dress that draped perfectly over her curves and caught the light like glass. Her dark curls were pinned up in an elegant twist, and somehow, despite how we looked—mud on our boots, Kalani’s dress one thread away from falling apart—she was kind.
Kinder than I’d expected. She just smiled and asked if we needed help finding something more “suitable for Faerwyn.” Her eyes swept over Kalani like she was assessing a blank canvas, imagining the potential, then guided her gently toward a wall of gowns. The one shechose was sapphire blue, the fabric so soft it slid through her fingers. She said it flattered Kalani’s skin tone, and I think she meant it. She even helped brush out Kalani’s hair, pulling it back and pinning it up. Kalani went from looking like a beggar pulled off the street to someone… unrecognizably beautiful.
Someone who belonged.
The woman gave me the same treatment. She found a deep red silk dress that flowed like wine in a glass, draped low in the back, held up by thin straps. She said the red made the green in my eyes stand out, and that it paired beautifully with my hair. She even offered to help me pin it up when I told her we were going to the theatre. Of course, I had to purchase the pin she used—a long, gold piece shaped like a needle. She wore a similar one herself. It was sharp enough to work as a makeshift weapon if needed, and I wondered if the women of Alevé had ever used it like that. Was there a reason to? Except for the chaos we’d caused, I hadn’t seen any crime at all since coming to their country. Maybe the women here were safe enough that they didn’t naturally think of escape routes or ways to defend themselves. The woman was halfway through showing us matching jewelry when Aran and Will emerged from the dressing rooms. Will wore a dark blue suit vest, perfectly tailored. Aran had gone with a black silk button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar open. They looked… like gentlemen.
What a sight.
The woman seemed pleased, even if we tracked mud and dirt across her silver-tiled floor. I think the whole wardrobe change cost six gold coins. You could buy two horses for that kind of money, but we spent it on clothes. If we looked the part, maybe people wouldn’t flinch at the sight of us. Maybe they wouldn’t avoid our questions. It was just a costume. But it was a good one.
“Wow,” I said, the word escaping before I could stop it. “You look good… both of you. I could hardly recognize you.”
Aran looked over at Will, then smirked. “While he’s thinking of all the ways he could say it, I’ll just say it. You two look incredible. We’ll definitely fit in now.” He gave me a short nod and walked off toward the counter to pay.
Will stayed where he was, his eyes never leaving me. “He’s right,” he said. “You do. You look… incredible.” His gaze lingered. “Your eyes…”
“She said the red would complement them,” I interrupted.
“And your hair. It’s so…” His voice dipped. “Different.”
Kalani drifted toward a mirror, slow, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what waited in the reflection. She stopped just in front of it, then adjusted the bodice of her dress, smoothed the skirt. Her hands moved lightly, but not with confidence, more like someone trying to figure out where they belonged on her own body. She shifted her weight, twisting slightly, eyes flicking over the image.
“Do you think the doorman will let us in like this?” she asked, not looking away from the mirror. “Do we look Alevian enough?”
“Yes,” Will said, reassuring her. His eyes then flicked back to me. “Okay. Let’s go get Licia.”
By the time we got back, Faerwyn was drowning in night. The same type of people still walked the streets, with their polished shoes and expensive fabrics. Soft voices rose and fell, punctuated by the occasional laughter. A man opened the door, and we stepped into something entirely different. The hall was no longer empty. Quiet conversation drifted around us, slow movements shifting through candlelight. Jewelry caught the glow, silks and satins flowed through the room. Every step felt rehearsed, every smile too controlled.
