Page 77 of A Baron of Bonds
I frowned. I wanted to keep them. I wanted them to stay with us in Felgren like we used to. I wanted to spend more sunny days in fields of wild buttercups with them, talking about anything and everything as we once did.
“She’s right. We’ve stayed for a while now, and we need to return. They’ve been wonderful months, and I would not give up seeing you come back to us for anything, Karus.”
I lowered my head and nodded. They were right, of course. They had lives that had gone on after they had become conduits, and we had no right to ask them to stay.
“I will miss you both so very, very much.” My voice trembled as tears streamed down my face. I had lived in Felgren without them already. I had lived and loved Moira, but I had not lived as myself without them by my side.
“We’ll write as often as we can, love.” Figuerah grabbed my hands in hers. “Nyeimah needs me, too,” she whispered, speaking of her companion—the same woman who had loved her before she’d trained as a conduit.
“I can’t wait to meet her someday,” I whispered, sniffing.
“We’ll plan it. You can come visit me in the Attatok Mountains and then travel south to see Clairannia in the Spire. Nyeimah and I will come with you, and we’ll be reunited again.”
I squeezed her tighter.
Rev moved closer to me. “We’ll plan for it then. As soon as we get settled back with the channelers. How are they?”
Figuerah answered, “Oh, they’re fine. We haven’t let them off the hook, and I think they’re glad for a little break. Pompeii promised to watch over them for now. Though…” she trailed off, a slight smirk on her dark lips.
“Figuerah…” Rev lowered his voice in question.
“It’s nothing. I just think you should get back quickly. They need your guidance, Baron.” She turned to me. “And yours,Karus. We told them quite a few stories of our time together as channelers in training and they begged us for more.”
“Your meeting will start soon, I think,” Clairannia interrupted. “But before it does, you cannot meet the leaders of the isle in that dress, Karus.” She looked to Rev. “And I’ve got something for you, too.”
I laughed and pulled her close. “Anything for you, Clairannia. Let’s see what you’ve brought.”
I stoodtransfixed watching Clairannia adjust the delicate skirts and rearrange the fabric flowers of the most breathtaking gown I had ever seen. She draped it across one of the small couches, and her crimson magic flowed delicately between the petals of each one, ensuring they were unfolded and free of wrinkles since traveling from Felgren.
“Don’t forget this,” Figuerah murmured, pulling a headpiece out from the bag.
Clairannia laughed, taking it to adjust as well. “Like I could.”
Moira fluttered to my shoulder, pulling the hair back from my ear so she could whisper, “I actually really like this one.”
I nodded, my jaw still hanging open after the gown’s reveal.
“Well, I think that’s as good as I can get it. C’mon, Karus, get undressed. We don’t have all night like weshouldhave had. Rev’s clothing won’t take nearly as long for him to get into.”
“I don’t…I mean…what do I say?” I stepped forward, my hand tracing the skirts. I shook my head. “How…justhow?”
“Oh, I have my connections in the Spire. This was hand-crafted by one of the famous dressmakers there.” Clairannia started untying the ribbons at my chest, and Figuerah pulled at my sleeves, urging me to keep moving.
“When I explained to her that it was for the first-ever companion of a Baron of Felgren, she dropped everything else and got to work.”
Moira left my shoulder to straighten some of the blooms on the headpiece.
I shimmied out of my dress and stepped into the gown.
If Viridis was something to wear, it would have been this.
If spring in Felgren could be made into a dress, it would have been this.
The silk was a sage green, the same color as Moira’s skin in the afternoon sun. The bodice hugged my breasts and waist tightly. Long trails of delicate leaves fashioned out of fabric had been sewn into the front, which spilled into long vines of blush roses. They fell down the front and sides of the skirts that bloomed off my hips.
A skirt of green moss spilled to the floor behind me, the hem littered with rose petals, leaves, and more vines that trickled behind when I walked. The length in the front hit the floor in a cascade of a sheer-white gauzy material and the sleeves began just below my shoulders, flowing out from my arms and ending in a bundle of sage lace that gathered over my wrists.
I turned to look in the gold mirror above the sideboard. I shook my head, again at a loss of words that I could ever wear something so beautiful. This was art. This was my home gathered into one stunning piece.
