Shadows and Steel | ✓

chapter forty-five

-45-  

The dress fit her like a glove, hugging her curves nicely. Twisting in front of the infirmary's mirror, Elle examined every angle as she would analyse a target.

A slit up her leg, thankfully her good one so that the bandage on the other wasn't on display. Around her neckline were crystals, shining in the low light as well as studded around the skirt. These whorls made the dress shimmer elegantly.

Smaller jewels hung from her ears and the assassin had run a brush through her hair. It had been a while since she had dressed up, gone through the motions of putting on some makeup. A little kohl around her eyes and pinked her cheeks, something to cover the bruises on her face—products supplied by one of the healers.

Hiking her skirt up, she trapped Ravaryn onto her inner thigh. A makeshift hold of ripped linen. She retied it tighter until she was sure it wouldn't come lose while dancing. Some of the other agents in the ward had dressed up as well, doing each others hair. One girl had offered to braid Elle's but the assassin preferred to leave it down.

The boot cast she still had to limp on frustrated her, but the assassin's skirt was so long it hid it from sight. On her other foot she wore a single white heel. Small of course, so that it wouldn't snap or cause discomfort.

Music floated under the cracks of the grand hall's doors, tinkling through the hallway outside. Tittering agents looped arms and meandered inside. She found it unusual to see so many hardened assassins with their guards down and having fun, having made an effort to be presentable.

The hall itself was magnificent. Grudgingly, Elle appreciated they'd outdone themselves just for a single night's celebration. Lights twinkled, garlands of white and navy were strung across the room. Catering, food, a live orchestra. Elle looked over to the dais.

The Imperial Lady sat upright in her chair, something fizzy in one hand and waving vaguely to the room with the other. Cerid chatted amiably with fellow party members, flitting between diplomacy and entertaining guests. Kade would have said they were one and the same. Her stomach churned at the sight of him.

Beautiful music wrapped around her like silk when she arrived in her gorgeous dress. A few eyes glanced up at her as she made her way inside, standing in the throngs of people on the outskirts of the room. In the centre of the polished floor many danced.

Elle hadn't forgotten all the formal etiquette drilled into her for years. She had loved those lessons, to pretend she was a lady and not just some insignificant shadow skulking around at parties. Alas, she never did have the patience to stand and make small talk for hours on end.

Clasping a flute of some fruity-smelling drink off a passing server Elle lodged herself deeper into the milling agents. She stood, watching the swirling skirts, gently clapping when each piece ended and breathless couples started up again.

She caught sight of Cerid as he broke from his polite conversation and wove through the crowd. He halted to exchange a few cursory greeting here and there. The heir was halfway across the room before she realised he was approaching her. Cerid wore a navy suit embroidered in silver. Etchings of leaves travelled up his sleeves, so masterfully done that they looked freshly fallen from trees. A seamstress had spent many hours perfecting their work.

He bowed, flashing her a boyish grin. She dipped her head in return and didn't fail to miss his eyes wander over the dress he had leant her. "You look dashing."

"I knew that dress would suit you," he said. "You look beautiful."

Elle glanced around the hall. "Your mother has truly outdone herself."