I nodded, continuing to pull on my socks, but this time she laid a hand over mine, stopping me. She disappeared into the washroom and I followed, dropping my boots. She sat on the bench by the door, flipping her skirts up and unlacing her boots. They were good quality for a steward. She began to roll down her stockings, and I realised what she was doing a second too late. They were already off her legs, and she was handing them out to me.
“I couldn’t,” I told her, knowing how long she would have saved up to afford clothing of that quality.
“You better,” she said, causing the other two attendants to gasp. She looked at them with a sigh. “She’s going to freeze. These are made of real wool.” She shook the stockings, and then held them out to me again.
They were the kind that pulled up past the knees, with a ribbon or a string to tie them around your thigh. They were cream-coloured and looked barely a year old. I pulled them on, and when I stood up, there was only an inch of skin visible between the tops of the stockings and the bottom of the cloak.
Elin snorted out a laugh, and we all glanced over, surprised.
“You’re not supposed to see the tops of them,” she said, between giggles, her face turning red.
I almost smiled in response, but the sun was beginning to set, and I could feel my remaining seconds slipping away like the water rushing down the drain of the terracotta bath. I rushed back to the dressing room, pulling on my boots and lacing them past my knees. I pulled open the top fastening on my cloak and stuck the oyntille to my chest.
“Take any dress you want,” I said to Nette, motioning those that hung on the rack before me.
She only laughed. “And where on Ledenaether would I wear something like that? I’m happy I could help you, Tempest.”
I thanked her again, and spared only a moment to gather my composure and suck in a steadying breath before I was twisting my ring and saying Helki’s name.
I fell into another woman, tripping in the silk that trailed from her dress, causing us both to lurch to the side, crashing into Helki’s lap. I scrambled off first, clumsily stepping back as she took full advantage of the situation, reaching up to twirl her arms around his neck, as though someone had finally given her permission to touch him. She said something to him, and then laughed at her own joke.
His eyes were stuck on me, a look of annoyance flashing in the translucent depths.
“What are you wearing?” he growled.
“A … a dress?” the woman answered, quickly scrambling from his lap, frightened by the thunder in his tone.
I glanced at her, noting her sparse covering and the flowers tied into her hair. There were a dozen women dressed and adorned similarly to her, drifting around the five masters, who were gathered on the dais at the front of the hall. Vidrol was on his throne a step behind the cushions where the other masters sat, a woman seated on each arm beside him.
“What are you wearing?” Helki repeated, his words a rumble.
I glanced down. “You don’t like it?” I traced my fingers over the seam of my cloak, skimming the edges of the oyntille.
He ground his teeth together. “Is our training a joke to you, Tempest?”
Vidrol stood, weaving through the members of his harem and the cushions scattering the ground. He stopped before me with an earnest look on his face, and that was how I knew he was about to back me into a corner.
“My darling champion.” He smiled, his hands clasping my arms.
I was the only one who could feel how tight he gripped me. I was the only one who would recognise the shiver beneath his sincerity.
He hated being disobeyed.
Too bad for him, he didn’t own me anymore.
“I know you like to think of yourself as a Vold, even though you’re so much more.” He smiled condescendingly, giving me another painful squeeze. “And I know how you Vold struggle with fashion, but…” He leaned forward, delivering an intimate whisper that wasn’t very quiet at all. “You aren’t exactly dressed suitably for the court.” He drew back, but not far enough for the oyntille to see him. He tipped my chin up, his face a breath away from mine. “Allow my ladies to help you remove a few layers.”
He stepped away suddenly, motioning to the two women who still sat on his throne. They jumped up and hurried over to me, giggling in excitement, but I held my hand up and they skidded to a stop. Whatever was on my face frightened them to a standstill.
Vidrol laughed, his eyes flashing green fire. “Don’t take it personally, ladies. She’s very picky with who touches her. It’s a very exclusive group. Only five or six of her favourite friends, isn’t that right, darling?”
“La-ven-ia,” I seethed. “My name is Lavenia.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” He turned his back on me, returning to his seat. “As soon as you choose one of us to dance with, we can begin the dinner. We would love a private moment with you, but only if there’s time.” He smiled again, and this time there was no hiding the cruelty in the curve of his mouth. “If you think we don’t have time for it, we can skip it all and just start your training for the night.”
I swallowed back some of my fury, passing my attention over each of them. Vale was hidden within the dark depths of his cloak again, the scattered women steering clear of him. Andel was leaning back on his hands, his scarred head tilted to the side, his violet eyes irate as he surveyed me. The women were also skipping around him, repelled by some invisible force. I frowned, taking in Fjor—who was also given a wide berth by the harem members. He had his legs crossed beneath him, his blue coat contrasting against the deep velvet cushions. I was pulled in two directions by a memory and flash of realisation. I had seen that coat on Fjor before. I had briefly run my fingers beneath it as I chased the intoxicating rush of his power. I was also noticing that the women were giving all the masters a wide berth, except Vidrol, who seemed to touch them and interact with them easily.
“You,” I muttered, pointing at the King. “Let’s have a private moment.” I touched the oyntille, putting it to sleep and slipping it into the leather tie binding my hair.
Vidrol crooked a finger at me, and I walked to his throne. The women backed away, as though I were one of the other masters and they weren’t allowed near me. I stopped out of arm’s reach—or at least I thought I did, but it turned out I had underestimated the length of his arms. He reached forward and gripped the front of my cloak, dragging me between his legs. He caught my knee, pulling it up and notching my boot onto the base of the throne, right between his legs. He began unlacing my boot, and I felt the muscles in my leg twitch, the need to shove my foot forward becoming almost overpowering.
“Don’t even think about it,” he drawled. “You’re lucky Vale didn’t make you strip completely. You can choose that option, if you prefer. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
I grew still, searching his face. He was focussing on his task, his fingers making quick work of my laces. He was talking about my bath with Vale.
“How do you know that wasn’t a completely organic moment of genuine friendship?” I uttered dryly. “Just two people, bonding over hygiene.”
He yanked my boot off and tossed it to the side. Helki coughed out something that might have actually been a laugh. He was sitting closest to the throne. Vidrol knocked my leg down and pulled up my other boot.