Page 84 of Lore of the Tides

“Get. Out.” Finndryl growled, his hands stilling where they gripped Lore’s thighs.

“As much as it pains me to break this up, my queen’s orders supersede yours. No matter how vicious your growl.” Cuan dropped something soft at the foot of the bed. Lore peeked sideways just enough to see what they’d brought them. She groaned.

A mountain of clothing. Formal dress, from the look and shape of the many layers of fabric.

“The queen requires your presence at a celebratory feast.”

“We can’t make it—we’re busy,” Finndryl said through clenched teeth.

Cuan sighed, their tone playful. “Unfortunately, you are among the guests of honor.”

Finndryl opened his mouth—to protest further, she just knew it—and so she took pity on Cuan. It wasn’t their fault that she and Finn would rather be in here, alone, than at a feast.

“Thank you, Cuan. If you and the other attendants would leave us, we shall report promptly to—”

“Oh, absolutely not. We are here to dress you. It’s only proper.”

“If she needs help, I can dress her.”

Cuan placed a hand on their hip. “Oh, I hadn’t realized you were so proficient in siren traditional dress.”

Finndryl growled.

“I thought so.” Cuan clapped their hands before pointing at the mechanism that controlled theSource-flow to the glowshells. A fresh-faced attendant with a bright pink tail swam over to it and turned the knob as far as it would go. Lore squinted in the bright light. This was torture! “Up, up! We don’t have much time before the party and have so many layers to don.”

A moment later, Lore gritted her teeth as she watched them bustle about the room, laying out bundles of fabric, while another two fussed with the multiple knots she’d tied in the ribbon, extricating it from her braids with an efficiency that bordered on aggression. A party to send them off? Lore had hoped for a moment of solitude with the queen. Lore washopingit would be quiet, because she had a favor to ask, and she didn’t want anyone to hear what it was. It was quite a large favor. A monumental one, actually.

If Lore had known that they were going to be barging into Finndryl’s rooms this early, she would’ve woken even earlier.

Though Lore grudgingly had to admit, as she pressed the linen flat against her thigh, as flat as it would go with so many layers of tulle, that the garmentswerebeautiful. She eyed the outfits stillhanging from the dressing screen—three for Finndryl to choose from and three for her... But her gaze fixated on the leather satchel nestled among the folds.

The leather was so dark it had a violet hue, and it shimmered iridescently, whisperings of an unknown sea creature. A design was skillfully carved into it, and she instantly recognized the coiling pattern as intricate swirls mimicking the lingering marks of a Puallas Kiss.

This wasn’t just any satchel.

Finally, the two attendants finished coiling and pinning Lore’s braids and moved on to enveloping her in layers of fabric. With a proud smile, one of the attendants bid her to turn toward the looking glass to see the profits of their labor. She gazed in the looking glass, biting her lip. She’d chosen a lovely, perfectly tailored gown. The cut of the emerald-green dress resembled ocean waves that formed to her curves in a way that was flattering but left room to move. She twirled a fraction, marveling at the artistry—weights sewn into various seams of the dress allowed it to flutter in the current, without floating upward. Pearl buttons and golden thread adorned the front layers and bodice, giving the impression of sunlight skittering across the ocean.

But her favorite thing was not the dress, nor how it shimmered. It was the satchel, which came with a matching belt made from the same leather. It had two straps on top that could be slid onto the belt and four crisscrossing lines around it, two of which could be adjusted for width.

Lore was just cinching the belt around her waist and adjusting the leather satchel when Finndryl returned from the bathing chamber. He’d donned his new clothes as well. His shirt was black and formfitting, his pants black, his boots black.Tall, dark, and handsome.A new sword adorned his belt.

He must have finally returned Cuan’s spear, then.

“My gods, Lore, you are stunning.” His eyes skipped across herface, lingered on her dress, and snagged on her satchel. He smiled. “Ah, you found the satchel.”

“What do you know about this?” Lore asked, holding the satchel out from her hip, admiring it once more.

“I know a little.” He crossed the room and ran his thumbs over the satchel in approval. “I had it made for you.” He laughed at her expression of surprise and dropped the satchel so it fell gently against her dress. “The queen was happy enough to oblige my request—they were creating the Nikoryxia scale vest for you anyway, so I figured it wouldn’t be too much trouble, and I’ve had the sketch in my pocket for ages.”

“You designed this?”

Finndryl smiled as he tied a cord around his locs, cinching them tightly behind him. How had he managed to fight off the attendants from fixing his hair? Then again, he had one of those faces—one grimace from him, and she imagined they would drop the hairpins and scatter.

“I did.”

“It’s beautiful.” Lore ran her thumb over the stitching in the leather. She hadn’t noticed before, but... yes, those were marigolds sprinkled here and there among the tendrils of the Puallas Kiss pattern.

“It’s forDeeping Lune. So you won’t ever have to part with it. And the straps adjust, so when you acquireAuroradel, it will fit as well.” Finndryl frowned, crossing his arms. “Well, depending on how big it is, I suppose; I am counting on it being around the same size asDeeping Lune.”

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