The underwear stopped twirling and wilted limply about Maldynado’s finger. He cleared his throat, but by the time he’d turned to face Yara, he’d reclaimed a calm smirk. “Of course, but I have no need to seek out such personages any longer. I’ve found true love.” He beamed a smile at her.
Yara scowled and stabbed a finger at the string undergarment. “You expect her to wear that? It’s ludicrous.”
“I was suggesting he wear it,” Amaranthe said.
“That’d be even more ludicrous,” Yara said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Maldynado stretched the strings and considered the tiny triangle of emerald green material in the center. “It’d be too small to hold anything of mine in, but it’s a lovely hue. Perhaps this could lie beside my… appurtenances. Like a flag meant to highlight a particularly fine specimen in a garden.”
Amaranthe shook her head and met Yara’s eyes, half-expecting her to slap him on the back of the head. “When he started associating with you, I thought he might be encouraged to say less… well, less.”
“You mean you thought I’d beat such nonsense out of him? I’m working on it.” Yara waved a fist under Maldynado’s nose.
He winked. “Alas, I’m an obstreperous student.”
“Just find her some suitable clothing, so we can get out of here, you clod.” Yara thrust a hand toward the window where another squad of men was marching past. “There are soldiers crawling all over this neighborhood.”
“Yes, you’d think Millinery Square was on the way to a particularly boisterous drinking house,” Maldynado said.
“We’re less than a mile from the Imperial Barracks.” Amaranthe squeezed a little deeper between the clothing racks. “I’m sure Ravido is keeping these neighborhoods heavily patrolled so he’ll get an early warning if anyone marches on his new home.”
“A good reason to finish up and get out of here.” Yara handed Amaranthe two dark brown glass bottles. “Here’s the bleach and the dye.”
“Let me see those.” Maldynado intercepted the exchange and held the bottles to the light, examining the labels. “You don’t want the cheap stuff. Your hair will turn orange. Or white. Then you’ll look old.”
Amaranthe stuck a fist on her hip. “I will not look old.”
“Add it to those bags under your eyes, and you will. Don’t you sleep?”
Yara smacked him.
“More than you,” Amaranthe blurted. It was the first thing that came to mind. Cursed ancestors, could everybody tell she wasn’t sleeping? “Akstyr was complaining this morning about all the furniture moving that was going on in the room you two claimed for your own.” When the truth struck too close to the target, and a suitable comeback wasn’t available, divert the topic of conversation.
“Furniture moving?” Maldynado blinked a few times before a fresh smile sprawled across his face. “Ah, yes. Furniture moving.” He winked at Yara, eliciting a deep blush from her. “It is invigorating. And you sleep like a turtle basking on a log afterward. You should try it, boss. For health purposes.” He tapped his jaw thoughtfully. “Though I’d recommend you try it with somebody fun. For maximum effect.”
Not Sicarius, Amaranthe assumed that meant. This new shift in conversation wasn’t any better than the last. “Still lobbying for Mancrest?” she asked.
“Nah, he’s a grump of late too. Maybe I can find you a sexy young wrestler at the gymnasium.”
“Let’s… focus on acquiring this costume and getting out of here. Finishing this mission will be the best thing for my health.” Amaranthe grabbed the dubious underwear from his grip. If it would move them onto the next round of this dueling bout, she’d take it.
Yara’s mouth drooped open at the garment exchange, but her cheeks were still red, and she didn’t comment.
“Oh, sure,” Maldynado said. “Let’s hurry up and get you onto a ship full of old matrons. Just where a young woman in need of a furniture mover should go.” He lifted his eyes skyward and strolled into the bowels of the shop.
“Don’t stop yourself from punching him on my behalf,” Amaranthe told Yara. “He could use a little-” A flash of light outside of the window caught her eye.
Another squad of soldiers was marching past, identical to the others except for the leader. The man walking at the head of the column had salt-and-pepper hair beneath his cap and a row of medals hanging on his jacket. The sunlight glinting off them-or perhaps off the large four-sword brass rank pins on his lapels-must have been what had drawn her eye.
“A general,” Yara whispered, slipping behind the garment rack with Amaranthe.
“Not just a general.” Amaranthe hadn’t seen Ravido in person before, but he possessed Maldynado’s chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. If all the Marblecrests looked like that, she’d never misidentify one.
“Let’s hide,” Yara said at the same time as Amaranthe said, “Let’s see where he’s going.”
Yara snorted. As soon as the last soldier’s back was to the clothier, Amaranthe slipped out from between the racks and jogged to the window. She leaned close to the glass, only to jerk her head back. The entire squad of soldiers had halted at the shop next door.
A commanding bark of, “At ease,” passed through the window. The soldiers broke ranks, no longer all facing the same direction. More than a few eyed the surrounding stores.
Amaranthe scurried sideways, ducking behind a thick, velvety curtain. She peeled back an inch so she could see out the window without-she hoped-anyone seeing her. Someone leaned an irreverent elbow onto a weathered headless statue perched between the clothier and the building next to it-a military uniform shop, she recalled. Was Ravido shopping for new belts? She pressed her nose against the glass. Gray mingled with the brown in the hair of the man leaning on the statue, and she realized it was Ravido himself. What was he doing? Waiting for someone?
A sergeant barked a few orders to the squadron, but Ravido said nothing. His head did move, though, and Amaranthe stood on her tiptoes, trying to follow his gaze. A second officer, this one with slate-gray hair and a colonel’s rank pins, strode down the street, also with a squad of soldiers trailing him.
In the back of her head, Amaranthe acknowledged that this probably wasn’t a good place for her to loiter, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spy on the opposition. Even if it was some sort of military shopping trip, she might be able to glean a-
A throat cleared behind her.
Amaranthe jumped, letting the curtain fall as she spun about. The store proprietor stood not three feet away, both hands on her hips, her lips pursed as she stared through her spectacles and down a long nose at Amaranthe. When she noticed the nose print on the window, those lips went from pursing to puckering. She couldn’t have made a sourer face if she’d been sucking a lemon.
Yara stepped away from the other curtain, a defiant lift to her chin. Feeling like a kid caught stealing pies from windowsills, Amaranthe couldn’t manage the expression.
“Are you ready to make your purchase?” the proprietor asked.
“My what?”
The woman pointed to Amaranthe’s hands. Erg, she hadn’t realized she was still carrying the skimpy underwear around. At some point, she’d draped it over one wrist. “I, ah, yes, but my designated shopper will be making the purchases. I believe he’s-we’re-getting quite a few things.” She held out the underwear, stealing a glance toward the window as she did so. Ravido no longer leaned on the statue, and the other officer had disappeared as well. “Would you mind putting this with his-our-other purchases?”
“Your designated shopper? Is that the dandy wandering around with a peacock-feather hat on his head?”