Page 83 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

A wicked smirk curled her friend’s lips. “You were quite taken with her.”

“In all honesty,” Emillie admitted, “I have not been able to stop thinking of her.”

“Fascinating.” Camilla raised a brow.

Revelie hurried to the back room and called, “Is this the one I heard about?”

The heat in Emillie’s cheeks only worsened. She ignored the way the redness spread across her cheeks when she glanced in the mirror beside her. “Yes.”

When Revelie reappeared, she held a long ivory dress of satin. The delicate periwinkle details swept down the narrow waist and up from the floor-length hem. She held it out to Emillie, who took it without a word and went with Revelie into the small room designated for changing. Her friend helped her out of her informal dress so she could slip the wedding gown on.

Stepping before the mirror, it was as though she were watching someone else. Her sister, perhaps? Someone who was marrying out of love—not of necessity or due to an arrangement to save her brother-in-law. Not to get away from the father, who would have rather sold her to the highest bidder than ever open his mind to anything different.

Not after what happened with Ariadne.

The sleek capped sleeves of the gown framed her small shoulders and eased down to the square neckline. It hugged her gentle curves in all the right places. Like every other dress made by Madame Revelie Ives, it flattered her body just right.

“Absolutely stunning, doll!” Camilla clapped her hands in glee. “I am so pleased you went with the satin.”

“It suits you,” Revelie agreed, straightening the skirts and smoothing the edges. She pulled a pin from her sleeve and clamped it between her teeth as she crouched beside Emillie, where she pinched the edge of the skirt. After making a small fold, she set it into place. “Now tell us why you brought up Kyra.”

As Revelie rose back to standing, Emillie’s heart raced. She twisted her fingers together, and she looked at her friends in the mirror, once again wishing she saw her sister’s face amongst them. “I think I saw her at Alek’s manor. She was serving wine.”

While Revelie looked as shocked as Emillie had felt when she saw Kyra at the Nightingale Manor, Camilla merely raised her brows and tightened the corners of her mouth as though to conceal her amusement.

“What did you do?” Emillie whipped around to her friend, stomach knotting.

“Nothing!” Camilla held up her hands in a sign of surrender. A wicked smirk twisted her lips. “Though I might have mentioned to Kyra that you were to marry Lord Governor Nightingale, and when she looked so very put out about it…I sent a letter to your lovely fiancé about how you will need a new handmaid in Waer and may have given him Kyra’s name.”

Emillie could not quite place the hollow, buzzing feeling in her chest at that. Was it fear? Nerves? If Kyra had accepted the position to be closer to her, what did that mean? Did she think of Emillie as often as she thought of her? She had assumed their short time together had meant little to the Rusan woman—a mere flicker of fun on a drunken night. She had assumed Kyra had plenty of other potential partners to keep her mind occupied.

The very idea of Kyra speaking to Camilla about her…

“I think I am going to be sick,” Emillie breathed, clutching at her chest.

Revelie launched into action and took both her hands, squeezing them tight. “No. You are fine. Just breathe deep with me.”

“My nerves,” Emillie gasped, screwing her eyes closed to try to focus on Revelie’s slow breathing pattern. Why was she feeling this way? The last time she had had such a visceral reaction was when she learned her sister had been taken.

But her friend squeezed her hand again and said, “Nerves and excitement are just different shades of the same feeling in our bodies. So tell me: are you nervous or are you excited?”

Her eyes snapped open. Revelie’s warm gaze washed over her, the highlights on her cheekbones glinting like gold. She sucked in another deep breath, focusing on the way the metallic color seemed to dance across her friend’s skin. “I am excited to see her again.”

“Then remember,” Revelie continued, her voice as calm and low and soothing as it could possibly be, “she would not have accepted the position, knowing full well what it would entail, if she was not also excited to see you.”

Camilla stepped into view, biting her lower lip. “I am sorry if I overstepped.”

The waves of emotions crashed through Emillie and slowly ebbed as she continued the deep breaths. This must have been what Ariadne had always been doing when she was feeling anxious. How she had remembered to do so through the fog of her mind at the height of those throws, Emillie could not fathom.

Emillie released one of Revelie’s hands and held it out to Camilla, who looked relieved as she took it. “No. Thank you for seeing an opportunity to make me happy and seizing it. If only I could have half your courage.”

But Ariadne’s words echoed in Emillie’s mind at that, reminding her of all she had endured these last weeks on her own. You are far more courageous than you believe.

It did not take long for Ariadne to learn Phulan’s history with Azriel. They spent their free time together discussing their long-standing friendship. Phulan had been the one who healed Azriel after he had faced off with Ehrun during her rescue from the dhemon keep.

And it was Phulan’s healing that drew her attention most. She had made the bold decision when she first returned from the dhemon keep to not allow anyone to see the scars she bore. Not her father. Not her sister. Certainly not Loren. Not even a mage had been given the opportunity.

After revealing the torment written on her body to Azriel, a weight had lifted from her shoulders. He had not liked what he saw on their wedding morning, of course, but then again…he had probably known what would happen once he had given her to Ehrun.

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