“I doubt we have ever operated in an ‘official’ procedure.” Silene rolled one shoulder in an elegant half shrug that spoke of little care. “The truth of the matter is, however, that you are in desperate need of new clothing and that I would not have you suffer with Monsieur Soleil accompanying you or, Halone forbid, dressing you as he did with me.”
He handed her the dress that was by and large simple in its design and color. “But there will be no wearing armor at a ball.”
Her expression was flat and blank as she took the dress from him as others would a poisonous spider from a web, but he distinctly heard her mutter as he made her way to the dressing room-
“Okay, Feline.”
F e l i n e
Tyleril Silversword 