Page 68 of All the Pain of Promises
“Now, go try on these dresses for the Yuletide Ball.” Narissa winked. “I have to go find a pair of stockings.”
“Make sure they’d gold!” Sarelle cried as she closed the door to the fitting room.
Gold stockings.
Narissa shook her head but made her way toward the front of the shop to the massive drawer displaying dozens of gloves and stockings. The options were seemingly endless. She’d never seen so many different lengths, different colors, and different details. Lace with pearls. Silk with diamonds. Each set more fine than the last. Perusing through the extensive selection, Narissa’s breath caught when she found a pair in gold.
The material was sheer, and would do absolutely nothing to keep her warm, but the back seams were dotted with aquamarines and the bands were intricate lace, woven with threads of pale turquoise.
Set on her purchase, Narissa scooped them up when the bell above the shop door jangled, and Lady Trysta Starstorm walked inside.
Narissa ducked behind the tall drawer of stockings and gloves. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was hiding. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she and Sarelle were just discussing her mother. Or maybe it was because the Starstorm matriarch was slightly terrifying.
She marched into the shop with a commanding air, decked in an excess of violet silk and silver beads. Her long white hair was carefully plaited and elaborate pins depicting stars pierced the coiffed braid. Heavy kohl lined her lids, though it did little to mask the deepening lines fanning out from her eyes. Her gaze was keen, her lips were pursed yet smug, and with each step, those atrocious bangles she wore clanked together noisily.
Narissa remained in her crouched position, carefully turning over the stockings in her hand, the perfect excuse would be to claim she dropped them if she were found out. But for now, the spot behind the oversized drawer was perfect for listening.
Eavesdropping, as a matter of fact.
“I just do not understand why it is so difficult,” Lady Trysta muttered, her crackly voice grating like a shard of glass againstrough stone. “All I want is a small vial of moonshade, how hard can that possibly be?”
Narissa frowned.
A vial of moonshade was an odd request. And to be fair, it was not easily harvested. The last time Narissa had seen it on any shelves was some years ago in Galefell, and even then, it was a rather elusive element. She couldn’t even begin to imagine why Lady Trysta might need it, or what possible use for it she could have. On its own, moonshade was unremarkable. Yet mixed with the proper ingredients, and imbued onto tools or ornaments, it could become something of great power with the ability to turn the mundane into the extraordinary. Like the creation of glamour.
Lady Trysta’s impudent tone drew Narissa from her thoughts, and she peeked around the drawer.
“Honestly, Livian,” she scoffed loudly. “Hespira was far more adept at her position than you.”
Hespira.
She was the one who came into the coffee shop with Lady Aria. As though she’d been drowned by a rogue wave, recollection slammed into Narissa. She remembered why Lady Aria’s lady’s maid looked so familiar—Hespira had come to Narissa a few years prior asking for honeysting. It wasn’t in her interest to ask why a servant would have a need for honeysting, because the plant was often used to rid a home of pests. But honeysting also emitted a sweet-smelling lethal toxin, one that could be crafted into a poison, and if Hespira was employed by House Celestine all those years ago, then…
Narissa clamped one hand over her mouth, silencing her gasp. She twisted the stockings in her hand, wrinkling the fine fabric, as Lady Trysta swept from the shop with her cowering maid in tow.
Moonshade could create a glamour.
Honeysting could be used as a poison.
And the cause of death for Lord Zenos Starstorm, Solarius’s father, remained unknown.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Narissa had no idea how she would prove it, but she was fairly certain Lord Zenos had been poisoned. By his wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Solarius took it upon himself to unpack and organize most of Narissa’s belongings.
The whole of her wardrobe, along with quite literally everything else she owned, had been delivered while she was out shopping in Celestine with Sarelle. Solarius had to admit, he was impressed with the speed at which Lord Marintide accomplished getting it all packed up and delivered for her, but then again, being a fae had its perks. Unfortunately, Solarius now found himself overwhelmed with dozens of underthings. Who knew a female even owned that many nightgowns?
There were garters, panties, stockings, nighties—a damn plethora of lace, silk, satin, and other soft fabrics he was too intimidated to touch. He didn’t even know where to put all of it, or if he’d set aside enough space. He might need to devote an entire dresser to Narissa’s undergarments.
But Solarius had chosen his bedroom when he was younger for specific reasons. The first being, it was at the back of House Celestine and had a sweeping view of Moonfall Peaks, and in the distance he could see the Arcasian Sea. The second was for the adjoining sitting room. Granted, he had never actually used it foranything other than lounging or drinking the night away with his brothers, but now it would prove to be more beneficial than not.
The sitting room would double as Narissa’s own personal space. An area where she could dry her herbs and flowers, brew her potions and tonics, and generally escape whenever she felt the need. Tovian and Kjeld helped him arrange most of her supplies. Together they sorted the numerous mortars and pestles, attempted to identify and group together her plants, and shelve her books and crystals. The only thing still needed was a place for her small, worn cauldron. He made a mental note to have a table especially crafted for her in mind, as well as to find her another, larger cauldron.
