“Don’t say that,” I say, leaning my head against his broad chest. “Our work is important, too.”
He’s quiet a moment, his hand warm on my back. Then he pulls me gently away and holds up the cream. “You’re going to try to get in, aren’t you?”
Heat flushes my neck. “I . . .”
“That was a very long hug, and these are a lot of expensive products.”
How does he do that? “I was really close to telling you, I promise.”
“Zahru, what if you get caught?”
“Hen looked into it. They’ll just escort us out. It’s only bad if you try to sneak in as a contender.”
“And if you’re in Juvel? Will they send you home?”
“Hen will be with me the whole time. She’ll buy our passage back if they won’t return us.” I press my hands together. “Please, Fara? It’s just a night. I’ll be back in time for supper tomorrow, and then I’ll be here. Forever.” I don’t mean to say that last word aloud, or in the ominous tone a priest would use to impart a deadly omen, but Fara understands. He kisses my head and sighs.
“You are my world, kar-a. I want you to be safe.” His smile is sad. “I also want you to be happy. It’s only for a night? You’ll be protected?”
“They’ll have guards. And literally all of the country’s top magicians will be within a kilometer of us. If we’re not safe there, we’re not safe anywhere.”
A grunt. Leave it to my father to consider even that might not be enough. “All right. You have my blessing.”
I squeal and hug him again. “Thank you, Fara! I’ll bring you something from the royal city.”
He shakes his head. “Just bring yourself back.” He pauses to think. “Though I wouldn’t mind some chocolate, if you can manage it.”
I smile. “Of course.”
I help Fara put away the remaining salves, excitement bouncing through me. My fake name is on the ledger. I have Fara’s blessing—now I just need to hear from Hen. But just as I’m starting to worry that “phase two” will involve me negotiating her release from jail, quick footsteps beat outside the stable, and she comes bouncing in.
“Zahru!” she wheezes.
She’s in a green jole, her arms bare and her deep beige skin glowing with pearl dust. Swirling golden circles—Numet’s symbol—curl around her bicep, and her short hair jingles with beads of gold and emeralds. She carries a bundle of garnet-red cloth wrapped over something that chimes as she moves.
“You look amazing,” I say.
“Storeroom!” she says, jogging past me without a glance.
“Is everything all right?”
“No time to chat. Phase two is complete, and they’re boarding the boat.”
She disappears behind the storage room’s tan curtain, and I nearly trip on the water jug as I hurry after her. “As in, boarding now?”
“Strip!”
“Has it been an hour already?” I pull my arms out of my sleeves and tug the slip off, while Hen sets the red bundle on a grain sack. “Wait. How did phase two take you an hour?”
“Less talking, more dressing!” Hen gathers the red dress into a loop and gestures for me to raise my arms, then pushes the bundle over my head. The shining fabric spills down my body, flaring from red to gold with the light. It’s sleeveless like Hen’s, but the top gathers in the center instead of the side, forming rippling pleats that overlay the dress all the way to the floor.
“Hen, this is . . . stunning,” I say, looking over my shoulder. The back opens to the base of my spine, where fine chains connect the fabric on either side. Hen flits behind me and mends a torn chain with a press of her fingers.
“It’s boring, is what it is,” she says. “But Mora wouldn’t let me dress you in only river reeds, so this is what I have to work with.”
“Is this fire silk?”
“Look straight ahead.”
I do. Hen grabs one of the things that had been bundled in the dress—a thin brush and a jar of black pigment—and holds my jaw with her free hand. “Close your eyes.”
“I already lined them,” I say as the brush kisses my eyelid.
“Mm hmm.”
The brush trails out to the edge of my eye and loops beside it.
“You better not be drawing anything gross.”
Hen snickers.
“Hen!”
“I’m not!”
The brush retracts, then starts on my other eyelid.
“There’s no phase three, right?” I ask. “Remember when I asked if I’d have to prove I was a Potionmaker? And you didn’t answer?”
This side of my face doesn’t get the same loop as the first. Hen has me look up and starts lining the bottom lid.
“The others had to prove their identities at the temple,” she says. “We don’t.”
“What does that mean?” The brush lifts, and I blink down at her. “You . . . made a deal with someone?”
Hen considers this, a small smile in her lips. “Yes?”
“See, when you give me an answer that sounds like a question, it makes me think you’re lying.”
“When you ask me a question you already know the answer to, it makes me want to lie.”
“You blackmailed someone.”
Hen just grins and lets down my hair, threading crystals into the brown waves around my face, then lifts a delicate tangle of chains from the grain sack. It separates into three fine loops in her fingers, a garnet pendant dangling from the place they connect. A protection rune flashes from the gem’s face. I realize what it is just as she lowers it, and I grab her wrists.
“I can’t accept this,” I say.
“But it’s yours.”
“No, it was my mother’s, and now it’s your mother’s, after mine gave it to her on her deathbed.”
“Mora wants you to wear it.” She secures the last hairpin so the jewel dangles by my left eye, and starts taming flyaway stands of my hair. A new wave of appreciation for everything she’s done floods through me.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say.
“I know.”
She grabs my hand and tows me from the storage room. Fara turns from where he’s mixing a poultice, and smiles as he takes us in.