chapter 39

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THE LACED FROST was cold against my skin, but it kept me alert and focused

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THE LACED FROST was cold against my skin, but it kept me alert and focused.

It was beautifully intricate, and almost as delicate as snow. But the fabric held its shape and hugged my body as though the dress was made for me.

Edva had told me that the material would adjust and fit to my silhouette. The dress was bold even in its elegant ladylikeness, and every sweep of the gossamer reminded me that I was in borrowed robes. So I sighed. I felt out of place. Removed. This was not me.

The Faerie had agreed that it was not my style, nor had it been his sister's, but that was the point. It did not have to be me. This was simply a disguise. A trick.

It was simply a part that I had to play. I could feign the confidence that was needed to stand upright; I could feign the wealth that the dress represented. I could feign all of that, perhaps until I could become it —but I hoped that the higher Fae were fools.

Because no matter how well it fit, it was not mine.

Thankfully, Edva mentioned that Vassenia had only worn the gown a total of three times before, under the old king's reign and in his castle. It was unlikely that the new court would recognise it.

I strode for the door, the train of the skirt pulling against the wooden floor. Then I stopped —stiffened and blinked as I happened to walk into the path of Adam, who was walking out of the room that we had shared last night; the one opposite to the adjacent one that was beside Edva's. The soldier was dressed in dark emerald and navy silk and linen, edged in silver.

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