A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 47 - There Will Come

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.

- Jane Austen

Song: Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

"Are the outfits really necessary?" Emerie asked, observing her reflection in her guest room mirror disparagingly.

For the Summer Solstice, Gwyn, Emerie, and Morrigan were made to wear clothing more suitable to the Spring Court, in an effort to fit in. The other members of the Night Court donned darker ensembles, making an obvious display of their newly formed alliance with Tamlin.

For their search of the village in hopes of finding traces of faebane, Morrigan and Emerie both wore cloaks of pastel green paired with white linen tunics and light breeches.

While Morrigan didn't seem to mind such casual clothes (probably because they looked amazing on her), Emerie sorely missed her leathers. Gwyn, on the other hand, had been made to wear a white, silk shift. It put her freckled arms and calves on display, and while she had grimaced at her reflection Feyre had assured her she would be glad for the delicate material when she stepped out in the summer heat.

Gwyn surprisingly didn't require convincing. She found herself wanting - excited in fact - to wear the dress in public. It was a much larger event than all the parties she'd attended with the inner circle, composed of an army of strangers... but it didn't matter. It didn't scare her. Not anymore. She was eager to test her limits. To stretch her metaphorical wings.

It had taken nearly three years, then wearing form fitting leathers in front of males and attending parties in fancy dresses, but Gwyn had finally made it. She'd finally arrived at being comfortable with herself.

No.

At embracing herself. Publicly.

"I think you look ruggedly handsome, Emerie," Gwyn smirked, adjusting her friend's cloak over her wings.

Morrigan grinned from her seat by the vanity. "Indeed she does. Strapping even."

"Both of you, enough compliments," the Illyrian grumbled. She turned away from her reflection to admire Gwyn, her fingers tracing the seams of her shift's straps. "Don't drink too much tonight."

"There's no nursery to vomit in here," Morrigan snickered.

Gwyn groaned, turning from Emerie to slump onto the bed. "Gods, does everyone know now?"

"Pretty much. When Cassian finds out anything top secret it spreads like wildfire." Morrigan examined her nails. "It isn't intentional. It just slips out and he pretends it was on purpose to avoid embarrassment. Better an ass hole than an imbecile."

"Debatable," Gwyn groused. "But I won't be drinking tonight. We're all on duty."

"I can see that." Morrigan gave a pointed nod to Gwyn's right leg.

She looked down to see the very tip of Truth-Teller poking out from beneath her shift. Damn Azriel and his abnormally large dagger...

Morrigan crossed the room, kneeling before Gwyn. "Let me help."

Gwyn gave a subtle bob of her head and tugged up the hem of her dress.

"I have a lot of experience with concealing daggers in dresses," Morrigan winked. As she adjusted the top thigh strap, her fingers stilled. "Is this... is this Truth-Teller?"

"Mmhm."

Morrigan's expression softened then she set back to work on tightening the thigh strap. When she finished, Gwyn dropped the hem so it fell back to resting on her knees. No hint of the dagger in sight. There was something unspoken in Mor's eyes as she lifted a strand of Gwyn's hair. She seemed content. At ease. Almost relieved.