Almost.
Every one of the seventy-two hours since I’d enjoyed even a semi-restful sleep showed in the dark circles under my eyes. If I were a faery, I’d be able to put on a new face in an instant and wouldn’t hesitate. Handy skill, that one. Plus, as Jean would be quick to point out, I’d been wearing the same black sweater as when I went off to investigate the burning of L’Amour Sauvage what seemed like a month ago.
Rand stood in the bathroom door behind me, looking perfectly rested and perfectly perfect, damn him.
I turned to him. “You got anything I could wear that doesn’t, well, look like I borrowed it from you?” No way I could rock the whole tall Russian snow prince thing.
“Some of Vervain’s clothes are still in the closet of the spare bedroom. She brought them with her when she fled Elfheim.” I appreciated him not saying when she fled Elfheim because we’d bonded and she knew Mace Banyan would punish her for it.
Rand pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and I followed him into the hallway, where he unlocked the door to the middle bedroom. “I rarely go in here since … since it happened.”
Oh man, I hated to wear a dead elven clan chief’s clothes, especially those belonging to the woman who’d given birth to Rand. “Never mind, this will be fine. Black is versatile.” I discreetly pulled the neck of the sweater away from my body and sniffed. Other than a bit of brandy, magical elven apple stuff, and smoke, it smelled fresh from the dryer.
“Don’t be silly. I don’t mind if you wear her clothes. I’d actually forgotten they were here.”
I followed him into the room. The last time I’d been here, only a month ago although it seemed like years, the room had been filled with antique furniture and pretty earth-tone accents—all with a heavy coating of blood. Some mine, some Rand’s, some the Axeman’s, but a lot of it Vervain’s. Now the room lay empty but for a set of gold drapes that hung over the window. A splash of brown stained the bottom of one side. Dried blood.
I swallowed hard to get the images out of my head; I could see why Rand didn’t come in here. “Why do you keep it locked?”
He’d opened the closet door and had returned to stand in the hallway just outside the room. “It’s stupid, I guess, but it helps me pretend it’s not here. Would you lock it back when you leave?” Without waiting for an answer, he hung a right toward what I assumed was his bedroom and disappeared.
Rand better be careful or I might start liking him. I doubted he could go twenty-four hours without pissing me off or making a mess I had to fix, however, so I wouldn’t worry about it.
I stared in the closet at the filmy, gauzy, tie-dyed, earth mother smattering of clothes hanging inside. Rand apparently came by his crunchy-granola hippie persona honestly. There wasn’t a pair of pants or top to be seen, but only dresses. Hadn’t the woman gotten tired of shaving her legs? Didn’t she want to have an occasional stubbly-leg and socks day?
One dress after another, I pulled out and rejected. One looked like Jerry Garcia’s grandmother should be wearing it to a costume party. Another was so sheer and low cut, I wouldn’t be caught hibernating in it—although it might create a diversion at the council meeting. Another would out-bling Her Royal Highness Sabine, which she’d probably resent. The only dog I had available to sic on her, Alex, would likely not be speaking to me after this morning.
I finally settled on an ankle-length dress with a burgundy and gold print skirt below an empire waist of gold brocade. The bodice of black velvet was trimmed at the neck and cuffs with burgundy lace. Vervain had been an inch or two shorter than me, so with my sturdy black slouch boots with the silver buckles and a flash of bare leg showing between the boots and the dress, I looked like I should be taking the stage at an Alien Sex Fiend concert. I needed more black eyeliner to complete my undead goth look. At least I’d managed to shave my legs in recent memory.
Oh well, it was far short of my new standard for humiliation—hibernating on Royal Street in broad daylight—so I’d make the best of it.
I locked the door behind me when I went back into the hallway. I stuck my head in the sitting room, but didn’t see Rand, so I knocked at the door to his bedroom. A muffled “c’mon in” sounded from inside.
This room, I’d never visited, and I had to admit I was curious. Rand was in the bathroom, so I took an opportunity to snoop.