7. That Summer
That Day Between Him and Her: That * Holiday Morning, Emily headed to the dressing room.
One of the many spare rooms in the Duval estate had become hers, so the spacious dressing room within that luxurious chamber was entirely at her disposal. It was nothing like the cramped maid's quarters at the Belpharos baron's household—this vast, empty dressing room in the unused guest room stood bare. That was only natural. Emily's wardrobe consisted of nothing more than undergarments, two maid uniforms, and a worn everyday dress.
The brown maid uniform she wore now would need replacing soon, too. In the year and a half she'd served as Olivier's maid, she'd shot up in height, and her once-flat chest had developed into a modest swell. Slipping into the old dress, which she rarely wore since she only ever donned her uniforms, proved disastrous. It squeezed her bust to the bursting point, left extra fabric bunching at her waist, and clung tightly to her hips and rear. Her short hair clashed with her maturing figure.
The full-length mirror, framed in gilded wooden vines, reflected her revealing silhouette mercilessly. Seeing how the too-tight dress barely reached her ankles and exposed her curves, Emily lost all confidence in stepping outside. It being a rare holiday, maybe I'll just stay in the room, she thought.
Then came a knock. Knock knock. Peeking through the dressing room door was Laura, Shaylin's maid.
"All ready?" Laura asked in her usual bright, high-pitched voice.
Emily shook her head and pointed at the mirror. Laura peered into it with a look of understanding.
"Your hair's too short to go out like that, the dress is worn out and doesn't fit, especially in midsummer—it's a spring-and-fall piece. You'd roast alive wearing it."
Laura eyed Emily up and down as she spoke. "A wide headband like last winter might cover the hair decently enough, but it's too hot for even that. And the clothes..." She trailed off, then sighed shortly. "Looks like you'll need to buy something. Got money?"
Emily recalled the gold coin Olivier had given her a few days prior. "Yes. I do."
"Hmm. Alright then." Laura looked troubled as she studied Emily, then beckoned. "Come on for now. I've got a long robe in my room—you can throw it on till we get to the dress shop. It's still morning; the real heat hasn't kicked in yet."
Draped in the thick gray robe Laura lent her, the ridiculous dress was hidden, leaving just her face poking out comically. Laura rummaged through her luggage and handed over a headband.
"It's plain, but with your short hair, it'll give you a perky look. Such a shame, though. Your hair's so fine and silky, and that unique color—gorgeous. If it were mine, I'd grow it out long enough to brush my hips. Men would line up just seeing you from behind."
Emily slipped the headband on. Simple and narrow, it lent her a touch of femininity all the same.
"Short hair's easier to manage. No need for ornaments or brushing—just wrap it up and it's dry in no time."
Checking herself in the mirror with the robe, she didn't look half bad. If it weren't summer, she might have wandered about in just the robe without buying anything new. But already, the gray fabric felt stifling and humid; she needed to shed it fast, before sweat soaked her, and change into a light summer dress.
"The best cheap, quality dress shop isn't on Citéga—it's across the Poenneu Street bridge in the old downtown. On Salbo Street. Right in the middle of Salbo is the Isildur Temple, so just tell the coachman to head there. Go down the alley beside it, and you'll find dress shops and sundries lined up. Pick whatever suits your taste. How much you got?"
Laura, unsatisfied with the headband's position, fussed with Emily's hair to readjust it.
"One gold."
"Cheap dresses go for twenty silver, so plenty. Even pricier ones top out under a gold. Pay two silver for the carriage, buy the dress, and you'll have change left. I'd love to lend you one of mine, but our sizes don't match, and mine are... uniquely styled. My taste, you know. Too bad."
"Thank you just for offering. I was fretting over where the shops even were."
Laura grinned at Emily's words. "And after buying on Salbo, playtime's in Citéga, got it? Better security there. Whew, I'm worried about you."
Emily nodded like an obedient student. Laura patted her shoulder. Emily was likable in every way—quiet, considerate, the type who wouldn't rub anyone wrong.
"Go have fun out there. This is Eliyum, city of revelry and vice, after all."
Laura smiled at her. "I'll be off then."
With a slight bow to Laura, who had lent the robe and headband, Emily left the room and walked the hall. The early-morning manor was silent. The young ladies rose fashionably late, past noon, so the inner quarters' corridor echoed only with Emily's footsteps. Past the inner quarters, down the servants' stairs, out the back door—she spotted a few staff tending the rear garden. From the back gate, she followed the long side path used by employees.
Clear of the Duval estate, stepping onto the public sidewalk, Poenneu Street's grand avenue stretched before her. Carriages already plied the wide road early on, and a large white one waited curbside. Her first solo outing without the young ladies made Emily pause.
Seeing the noble white carriage, she decided to hail a public one from the street. First to the dress shop, buy and change, stuff the robe in a paper bag or drop it back at Duval before heading out again.
Standing right by the side gate, lost in such thoughts and dithering, a sudden shadow fell over Emily in the morning sun. Her gaze, fixed on the ground, caught black men's shoes. Startled, she looked up.
A tall man stood backlit by the dawn light. Their eyes met. Deep dark brown eyes gazed coolly down at her. Killian, his ash-brown hair neatly combed back, stood in formal attire, watching her.
"How... are you here...?"
He'd clearly left yesterday morning with Evril for the Loren count's estate at Scren Mine, half a day's ride to Aujsiras. How was he here, at the Duval gates, this early? As if he'd been waiting.
"Emily."
Killian's low, resonant voice reached her. She stared into his quiet dark eyes.
"Might I have your day?"
His tone was low and steady as he looked down at her, but Emily caught his fingertips trembling faintly before he clasped them to still the shake. Somehow, it eased her tension, and she looked up at him again. His face, usually impassive and arrogant, was awkward now, shadowed with fatigue under his eyes.
As she gazed silently, Killian slowly extended his arm, lightly grasping her wrist. His warmth against her bare skin burned. He led her to the white carriage parked by the walk.
Once aboard, he sat close, peering down at her. The awkwardness of their nearness—close enough to feel his breath—flushed her face hot. After a long wordless stare, he asked softly,
"Where were you headed first?"
Treated like a noble lady with his formal speech, Emily was speechless. He still held her wrist lightly; her pounding pulse must be transmitting through it. She bowed her head.
What do I even say?
Killian gazed at her ducked head. From the thick gray robe peeked a slender white nape, wafting a sweet bodily scent—or so it seemed. To Killian, ridden hard all night on horseback, sleep-deprived and weary, it was an irresistible, drowsy, dreamlike allure.
He gripped her wrist tighter without realizing, steadying his own tremor. Emily looked up in surprise, eyes wide.
"The robe..."
Killian paused, lost in thought. On this summer morning promising sweltering heat, a thick robe meant one thing, whatever the reason. He turned his gaze back to her. Her red lips, tense and pursed, looked adorably dainty.
Suppressing his urges with a short sigh, he addressed the coachman.
"To Trevere."
Thank you for reading. Romance at last T_T