The Dark World

Chapter Twelve: A Gown Fit for a Thief

"—and then you demanded a price from the King," Jules cackled, eyes glittering with delight, "to save the city?" He fell back on her bed and laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed some more.

He laughed so much that Mina was tempted to reach over and strangle him. She couldn't, however. Not with Alanna kneeled down, pulling at the layers of her gown. The woman's fingers bobbed with such quick precision as she adjusted the length of the hems. The look on the dressmaker's face was so intense that Mina did not dare disturb her for fear of reprisals.

Alanna was a woman in her fifties, with wiry graying hair pulled back in a severe bun. She was a stout woman, who preferred her silence, her mind constantly mulling over her designs, constantly editing her creations fashioned from silk, satin, chiffon, muslin, and gauze. But, when she did speak, her words landed with the blunt directness of a drill sergeant commanding his troops.

Mina wasn't so much a person when she stood before Alanna, as she was a product, a canvass for Alanna's imagination and talents. And, Alanna was talented, Mina would give the dressmaker that much. Alanna wielded her needle with the adroitness of a swordsman.

She was probably about just as deadly, too.

Mina, however, didn't love playing dress-up. It seemed wasteful. The bolts of fabrics. The jewels. The endless tailoring.

Turning her attention to the tittering heap of emerald green velvets and pale gold silk crowing on her bed, Mina frowned. "Was the King terribly offended?" She wanted to wince when she heard the fragility of her voice. It was raw, and entirely too obvious.

Jules sat up and slumped casually over his thighs. A boyish grin slanted his lips. "He was relieved," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. "You could have set fire to his letters, and he would have declared a war on parchment if he thought it would have appeased you."

Her brows knitted together. "He must be desperate."

"Incredibly."

"And a poor judge of character."

"Obviously."

"This is going to end poorly."

"Quite possibly. But, it wouldn't be any fun if success was guaranteed."

"Guaranteed?" Mina nearly choked on her spit, "I'd settle for a fighting chance." The prospect of success even being on the table seemed remote. "Has this ever been attempted before?"

Jules regarded her with a smirk. "Of course, it's been attempted."

Mina's face fell, as she waited for the inevitable bad news.

"How else do you think we got the God of Darkness running around turning everything into walking death?"

Her lips parted, but there were no words. This definitely wasn't part of the legend of how the God of Darkness was woken. This wasn't the story that had been carved into the Temple's marbles. There was no tale of a failed summoning. Just foolish children and a lantern.

"A story for another time," said Jules, batting his hand at the thought. "The Commander is in a better position to tell it, anyway."

Mina lifted her head slightly, not knowing what to make of Jules's sudden evasiveness. "So, did the King mention what the plan is?"

Jules shook his head. The lantern light lit his blond curls, reminding Mina of the way sunlight shines through yellow stained glass. "The King doesn't make plans, Mina. He has counselors for that."