That sank Kell’s spirits even lower. His fingers drifted to the tokens around his neck, as he struggled to suppress the urge to leave. Run. But he couldn’t, because whatever the king believed, Kell was loyal, to his crown, to his family. To Rhy.

The prince sat forward, seemingly oblivious to the storm in Kell’s head. “Now,” he said, “what shall we wear to the party?”

“Hang the party,” grumbled Kell.

“Come now, Kell, the party never did anything to you. Besides, what if a certain young woman with a penchant for cross-dressing decides to show? You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Kell dragged his head up off the cushions. “She shouldn’t be competing.”

“Well, she made it this far. Maybe you’re not giving her enough credit.”

“I let her win.”

“Did everyone else do the same?” asked Rhy, amused. “And I have to say, she looked like she was holding her own.”

Kell groaned. She was. Which made no sense. Then again, nothing about Lila ever did. He got to his feet. “Fine.”

“There’s a good sport.”

“But no more red and gold,” he said, turning his coat inside out. “Tonight I’m wearing black.”

* * *

Calla was humming and fastening pins in the hem of a skirt when Lila came in.

“Lila!” she said cheerfully. “Avan. What can I help you with this night? A hat? Some cuffs?”

“Actually …” Lila ran her hand along a rack of coats, then sighed, and nodded at the line of dresses. “I need one of those.” She felt a vague dread, staring at the puffy, impractical garments, but Calla broke into a delighted smile. “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “It’s for Master Kell.”

That only made the merchant’s smile widen. “What is this occasion?”

“A tournament ball.” Lila started to reach for one of the dresses, but Calla rapped her fingers. “No,” she said firmly. “No black. If you are going to do this, you are going to do it right.”

“What is wrong with black? It’s the perfect color.”

“For hiding. For blending into shadows. For storming castles. Not for balls. I let you go to the last one in black, and it has bothered me all winter.”

“If that’s true, you don’t have enough things to worry about.”

Calla tsked and turned toward the collection of dresses. Lila’s gaze raked over them, and she cringed at a yolk-yellow skirt, a velvety purple sleeve. They looked like pieces of ripe fruit, like decadent desserts. Lila wanted to look powerful, not edible.

“Ah,” said Calla, and Lila braced herself as the woman drew a dress from the rack and presented it to her. “How about this one?”

It wasn’t black, but it wasn’t confectionary either. The gown was a dark green, and it reminded Lila of the woods at night, of slivers of moonlight cutting through leaves.

The first time she had fled home—if it could be called that—she was ten. She headed into St. James’s Park and spent the whole night shivering in a low tree, looking up through the limbs at the moon, imagining she was somewhere else. In the morning she dragged herself back and found her father passed out drunk in his room. He hadn’t even bothered looking for her.

Calla read the shadows in her face. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s pretty,” said Lila. “But it doesn’t suit me.” She struggled for the words. “Maybe who I was once, but not who I am now.”

Calla nodded and put the dress back. “Ah, here we go.”

She reached for another gown and pulled it from the rack. “What about this?” The dress was … hard to describe. It was something between blue and grey, and studded with drops of silver. Thousands of them. The light danced across the bodice and down the skirts, causing the whole thing to shimmer darkly.

It reminded her of the sea and the night sky. It reminded her of sharp knives and stars and freedom.

“That,” breathed Lila, “is perfect.”

She didn’t realize how complicated the dress was until she tried to put it on. It had resembled a pile of nicely stitched fabric draped over Calla’s arm, but in truth it was the most intricate contraption Lila had ever faced.

Apparently the style that winter was structure. Hundreds of fasteners and buttons and clasps. Calla cinched and pulled and straightened and somehow got the dress onto Lila’s body.

“Anesh,” said Calla when it was finally done.

Lila cast a wary glance in the mirror, expecting to see herself at the center of an elaborate torture device. Instead, her eyes widened in surprise.

That bodice transformed Lila’s already narrow frame into something with curves, albeit modest ones. It supplied her with a waist. It couldn’t help much when it came to bosom, as Lila didn’t have anything to work with, but thankfully the winter trend was to emphasize shoulders, not bust. The dress came all the way up to her throat, ending in a collar that reminded Lila vaguely of her helmet’s jawline. The thought of the demon’s mask gave her strength.

That’s all this was, really: another disguise.

To Calla’s dismay, Lila insisted on keeping her slim-cut pants on beneath the skirts, along with her boots, claiming no one would be able to tell.

“Please tell me this is easier to take off than it was to put on.”

Calla raised a brow. “You do not think Master Kell knows how?”