Page 43 of Antiletum
Blair’s shrewd gaze pops to mine. I meet it in stride, not looking away. Half bracing for that cigarette holder to test the mettle of my skull next, Lady or not. The assault doesn’t come.
She scoffs. But I think there’s a new crease at the corners of her eyes. “That’s debatable.”
Impatient, her hands begin ripping at the shoulders of my dress, all her smokey companions wisping away into nothing or being sucked in through her mouth and nose. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I even saw a scorpion scurry into an ear. Harsh scratchiness is expected, given her prickly nature, but her skin is surprisingly soft and supple. Like worn, well cared for leather.
A concerning rip has me yelping, “Hey!”
No thought is given to preserving the gown—or my modesty. Blair tuts, finally pulling me completely free, the dress falling in a sad and dirty heap at my feet, chemise along with it. It’s at this moment I remember I’m not wearing any underwear.
I can’t decide if I should try to cover my naked breasts or the far more intimate parts of myself staring everyone in the face. Neither is the option I choose, arms hanging limp at my sides.
Looks like mine and Selise’s burgeoning friendship has leapt to new levels.
I’ve changed my mind, Blair’s not a mystical butterfly. She is a straight vulture, come to peck at the carcass of my dignity.
“Scraps!” Blair shakes a finger at the mess, ignoring my nakedness.
“I liked that dress.”
“And I like having proper warning to make a true masterpiece.”
That’s right. We left the manor earlier than intended. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Val had the celebration moved up as well. Critical thinking skills have taken a step down, thanks to all the change layered on top of my mourning. I’m barely a functioning thing these days, too dazed to partake in my surroundings. But everything is starting to become clearer, blurred edges taking a smoother shape.
A jeweled toe kicks the gown away like it personally is the cause of every negative thing that may have ever happened in Blair’s life.
Gazing down at the heap with a frown, I grumble, “The dress and I may have had some deep rooted disagreements, but it’s nothing we wouldn’t have worked out.”
It was too pretty not to try, at least. And technically, it was a gift from my husband.
Val’s wide, arrogant smile plasters itself at the forefront of my brain. How the earrings I pierced him with myself complement his strange,black eyes and the rings in his lip. His build—wide, tall, and strong. Striking.Devastating. The ease and contentment of spending time with him. Allowing myself to enjoy it, even if not for exactly what it was.
Unbothered, Blair pulls out a long strip of measuring fabric and gets to work while an apprentice simultaneously drops a thin slip over my head, hiding my nakedness. Several garment samples are brought forth.
Modiste is not the profession I would have assumed for this woman. Especially not with all the smoke wisps she commands. A very large part of me wonders how Parliament sees her gift as best utilized while she’s making clothing.
As if Blair can hear my thoughts, she offers, “You’d be surprised secrets people are willing to spill in the presence of those they have hired. Not deemed important enough to tighten their lips. A special level of narcissism, if you ask me.”
Selise pauses her discussion on fabrics with one of the apprentices. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Blair tuts. “Hubris. Such a ridiculous thing to exist. We often do have mighty opinions of ourselves. Though at the end of the day, we all eat and sleep and shit and die. We all stink the same beneath our perfumes. All the nobles in The Citadel and otherwise are no different from the squalor patrolling the streets of the city when their finery is peeled away. In the end, we’re all the same.”
An apprentice raises his glass of water in salute, drinking it down in a single gulp as if it was the finest spirit. It makes me wonder just how far discontentment spreads.
The young man brings forth a bolt of shimmery black fabric, presenting me with a monumental decision that he is most likely unaware of.
Last night was the first time I’ve openly worn mine and Val’s colors and barn owl symbol. The robe in my chambers at the manor doesn’t count since it was only the two of us.
But now is the true test on just how publicly committed to my husband I’ll be. If I can fully accept the role meant for my sister. Val gave me the option of choosing my own clothing just the same as my path forward. And right now, I feel like I’ll be submitting my answer, whether he intended for me to give it this way or not. I have the option to turn down our official colors. Or, I can make the decision to commit as the Lady ofNoctua. Provide a strong front with Val, so early in our positions. Whatever that may mean.
Another wardrobe stands tall, a spill of rainbow hues tumbling out in a promise of defiance.
The decision is mine. Keep to my muted tones and pastels that I’ve used to blend in, or accept the black and silver that will make me stand out.
After last night, I’m an even bigger tangle of confusion, battling with my wants, my heartache, and all the change around me. Nothing feels real. Every morning, I open my eyes expecting to find myself back in my rooms at my parents estate. To hear the sounds of workers tending the fields of ourantiletum. It was those crops that helped my parents present Rainah to court, that found her betrothed to the former Lord’s son.
I nod encouragingly to the apprentice. More sheets of black and silver fabric are brought forth, as well as stitching samples of owls, wings, and feathers.
My acceptance is easy, natural. A part of me feels like Val was right when he said that us, two necromancers, finding each other through such tragedy was meant to be.
