Page 86 of Lady Knight and the Thief

“Fine, be that way,” Torren said, peering down his crooked nose. “Dinner in the hall or sent up to you?”

Cypress sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll come down for dinner.”

But only after she had a bath and scrubbed her skin until it was pink. There would be time later to process everything and plan their next moves.

They still needed the scepter and had to subdue the Hunt. The rest could wait.

Torren was right after all. A hot meal that wasn’t a hastily cooked hare over an open fire sounded downrightdivine.

“That’s the spirit,” Torren said and led her to the same plum colored door as her previous stay. “Athima will bring you something to wear while your clothes are being laundered.”

Then, the Prince of Faerie disappeared behind an earthy olive green door only a few down from Cypress’s.

The only thing Cypress thought of while entering her rooms was that glorious crystal-cut bathtub.

After Cypress had scrubbed at least an entire layer of skin clean off, Athima brought her a collection of fabric so soft it felt fit for royalty.

Or, perhaps,nobility.

A fucking Duchess. She was a Duchess.

Cypress donned fine cloth leggings laced down each thigh to the ankle, a low-slung dress-like garment with thick, draped sleeves, and extraordinarily soft sandals.

As always, Cypress tied the reinforced leather armored corset around her ribs. There was still nothing covering her heart. But it was better than nothing.

She’d been wearing the armor given to her at the camp at the edge of the Wylds, but she felt foolish wearing it to dinner.

Cypress hadn’t felt even a flicker of fear while under Torren’s protection. Well, monsters aside.

She didn’t even know if she could bring herself to wear the Captain Cy armor again, now that she understood the true meaning of the emblem stamped on her chest plate and what it represented.

Now was not the time to dwell. Cypress set it aside and focused on her reflection in the gold-framed mirror.

Remarkably, Cypress enjoyed the clothing Athima had found for her. She shouldn’t be surprised, since she had liked everything provided by the Fair Folk so far.

Cypress didn’t feel like the hyper-feminine version of herself that she presented asLady Cypressin the Keep. She often did, wearing some of the frillier garments in trend with the Ladies at Court.

She wasn’t wearing a dress, stuffed with bustles and sleeves so tight they felt like they restricted blood flow.

Cypress still felt feminine in the garments of Faerie, powerful in that alone.

Cypress left her rooms and ventured out into the palace. Already, merriment was unfolding below.

Musicians played stringed instruments in haunting, bouncy tunes. An ethereal voice accompanied the notes, singing softly, their voices in tune with the beat of the drums. The performance was atmospheric, almost unnatural. The drumming reverberated through the floor and shook the canopy high above.

The entire performance was eerie enough that Cypress would remember the song, yet lively enough to encourage dancing and frivolous joy.

The wondrous aromas of roasting meats and sautéed vegetables made Cypress’s stomach rumble in a decidedly unladylike way.

Once Cypress arrived at the grand arched entryway of the great hall, she scanned faces for familiar ones. Not that she knew very many people here.

The apparent Steward, Athima, was not amongst those she could see. Cypress wanted to thank her for the clothing. Once again, the garments fit like a glove.

Beyond the Ziomora, master of stables, whom she did not see anywhere amongst the crowd, she only really knew Torren.

Somefreshcompany sounded much better than bickering with him for the next few hours.

Mother above, Cypress wanted a drink.