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Jarin shifted in his seat. “Uh, not really. Nothing to speak of.”
CHAPTER 34
“No, stop. It’s too tight.”
“Take a deep breath. That’s it. Deeper. Good girl.”
Riella did as the dressmaker instructed, inhaling until she thought she’d pass out. The bodice was laced so firmly that she could barely move. How could she save Seraphine tonight in such ridiculous garments?
“You’ll get used to it,” said the dressmaker while he tied the laces. His name was Pierre and he was from Velandia. He had a thin mustache and oiled black hair.
“What? Not breathing?” she retorted.
“The bodice is good for your posture,” said Pierre.
Riella kicked her leg to test her range of motion, catching the many layers of her chiffon underskirts. She narrowed her eyes in the mirror at Jarin, who stood behind her, having already been fitted by a tailor. He wore black trousers and a shirt, long black boots, and a smart jacket with gold edging.
“Why can’t I have clothes like he’s wearing?” she asked with a sigh. “They look far better to fight in.”
“We have to blend in with the guests,” explained Jarin. “We must look like we belong.”
Pierre paused to stare at her. “My beauty, why on earth would you be fighting? It’s a royal wedding.”
Jarin cleared his throat and gave the dressmaker a pointed look. The pirate had given him a hefty pouch of gold coin when they arrived at the studio, for discretion as much as clothing. Evidently, Pierre recalled the same, because his face colored and he fell silent.
As the dressmaker fussed with her skirts, Riella admired Jarin. He looked incredibly handsome, his stubble neatened with a razor and his hair slick. The formal attire did nothing to hide his broad, muscular frame, and his gold pendant sat on his tattooed chest. The tailor had suggested a ruffled shirt that would’ve come up to his neck, but one look from the pirate quelled this idea.
Riella’s dress was made from silk and was pale gold, with tiny pearl buttons along the sleeves and down the back. She’d met up with Odeya at the salon, who’d arranged the siren’s hair in silky waves and enhanced her features with cosmetics. The dressmaker supplied the pair with masks. Riella’s was golden and jeweled, shaped like a butterfly with eyeholes in the wings. Jarin wore a black skull mask that left only his piercing gray-green eyes and chiseled jawline visible.
They arrived at the palace as dusk descended, the huge tangerine sun setting the golden turrets ablaze. Riella was grateful for the distraction of her tight dress and the spectacle of the palace entrance, because otherwise she would dwell on the heartache of witnessing her final sunset.
Jarin, who hadn’t left her side all day, offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She threaded her arm through his and they began the long walk up the red carpet to the palace entrance. Hoards of rowdy onlookers packed the cobblestone street in front of the palace grounds, jostled by royal guards on horseback. Berolt and Silas and the rest of Jarin’s crew lurked among the onlookers, searching for Artus and his men.
“I worry that Artus will talk his way into the palace without an invitation,” said Riella.
Jarin snorted. “Trust me, he won’t.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jarin had told her he cut out Artus’s tongue, though he didn’t say why, and she told him the Count put their names on the wedding’s guest list, though she didn’t say why.
Neither pressed for details. Believing this to be their last day on earth together, Riella and Jarin came to a silent understanding to do naught except help each other achieve their ends. Whatever else happened, it was imperative to keep the Amulet of Delphine from Polinth and Artus.
Closer to the entrance, Riella and Jarin joined the chattering press of wedding guests. Everyone wore elaborate clothes and masks, and spoke in an array of foreign dialects. Spectacular blue birds paraded around the manicured lawn, fanning their iridescent tail feathers at will.
“Peacocks,” said Jarin. “Tempestuous and vicious when provoked, but very beautiful. Reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.”
He snorted with amusement while Riella glared at him.
“How about you keep a lookout for Polinth?” she asked. “Instead of teasing me.”
“I am. But he’ll be masked, at the very least. Or he could’ve taken on another form altogether. I daresay we won’t find him until he wants to find you.”
Riella drummed her talons nervously on Jarin’s jacket sleeve. “Then, let’s hope he does want to find me. At this rate, Sehild may’ve done me the largest of favors, if she did set him after me. We have mere hours left.”
At her last words, the muscles in Jarin’s arm stiffened, but he said nothing.
