From Iron and Ruin

Summer.

Chapter 34: Summer

The days grew longer. Brighter.

The Gold-Hands seemingly had slipped back into the shadows and the Nirani had settled. I knew they were waiting, biding their time. I had lost my family in the months of winter and snow and death, but Cadelith was now moving into her long summer months. The world had moved on.

I had too, but I could not forget. Never.

The Summer Solstice marked the turn of spring into summer and to mark the Legion's growing power and now quite formidable army, Fyr decided it would be wise to throw a celebration as an excuse to invite important figure-heads from Naredan. Despite the invitations that flooded back with signatures of acceptance and the lords I had greeted as the week before the Solstice approached, I was determined to enjoy myself.

I would not be bound by their conventions. I would show them how a Dratlan Elf celebrated such a time in the year. They were dead, but I would not let them vanish. I would be their Seeker, but I would be Aviana Birchwood too.

So I allowed Fyr to order me a dress. I let the Legion's servants into my room to wash my hair, bind it and pin it down with a net of pearls. They had been soft-handed as they smoothed citrusy cream onto my skin

The quizzical glances. The fright almost, as I strode down the drafty halls with my hair braided and pinned with pearl clasps by servants sent in by Fyr, was worth it. They had worked my heavy hair carefully and meticulously, chatting about their lives, their days working in the Legion.  

None of them seemed to notice my ears. There was no hesitation in their touch as they laced my corset.

I had barely recognised myself in the mirror when they were done. With my hair swept back and my cheekbones highlighted in some kind of strange dust, my cheekbones looked almost sharp enough to be fully Elven. A dress of emerald and gold trim swept the ground beneath me, pinched at the waist. The shoulders were capped, but the sleeves were fine gossamer, with golden thread vines crawling up the arms.

I had stared at myself for too long, before sliding a weapon into the hidden sheath under my skirts. My hands were left bare so that our guests could gawk at my hands and the neck-line swopped low enough to that they could see the third mark that had been burned into the hollow of my throat.

When I was finished looking, I forced myself out into the halls. Gwen found me quickly.

"Shiny," Gwen fell into step beside me, her grin salacious. "You look pretty. If I wasn't breaking bed-posts with that little red-head woman down in laundry, I would use some of my best lines on you."

"I thought you were after that tavern girl?"

"Last week."

I wrinkled my nose. "I wish I was as carefree as you."

Gwen barked out a laugh. "I don't think I have ever seen you like this. Where are your weapons?"

"I have them strapped under my skirt." I pulled at the sleeve of my dress. The schedule for the week was shoved full of meetings with four of the Port-Lords. The ones who held dominion over the western ports – who controlled what came into the city of Naredan. Another group of men who held the ear of the Emperor.

They had travelled far to visit Adotlan and I heard the whispers of what they expected. A dirty, sword-swinging Half-Blood. All of which was true. I was covered in muck and sweat often, but there was a wardrobe of expensive dresses hanging in my wardrobe. Clothes that I could have only dreamed of when I was a child. Clothes that would have been scorned in Dratlan.