As the diplomats nervously shrank back to let Teia’s squad come forward, Teia saw what Karris was wearing, and she almost laughed aloud. Whoever was shocked by Karris’s choice of clothing had no idea who they were dealing with. She wore an outfit much like what she’d worn to Teia’s swearing in. White Blackguard blacks, tight fit around her athlete’s body, infused with luxin, and decorated with silver thread. She had even—whimsically?—denoted her rank on her left shoulder. A Parian zero, the stylized circle looking something like an eye.
Given that her clothes were white, the outfit did reveal her curves far more than identically cut blacks would have, but to Teia’s and the Blackguard’s eyes, it mostly revealed that Karris hadn’t let herself grow fat when she’d left her official Blackguard duties. Neither modest nor immodest, it was amodest, clothing indifferent to any man’s or woman’s sexual interpretation of it. Here was the body as power, as an implement of war sharp honed with use. Her clothing said, ‘Remember who I am and where I came from and how I intend to rule.’
It would take a soft, lustful man like a luxiat to see this body in harness for war first as a receptacle for his illicit desire.
“I just did something shocking,” Karris told him, “and worthy of complaint. But that thing was not what I’m choosing to wear. If you’re such a fool that you use your eyes when you ought to be using your ears, you’re too much a fool to advise me. You may dare correct the White, but do it for the right thing. Tell your superiors that I wish never to see your face again, and if I do, there will be consequences. For them. And for you. There are many souls beyond the Everdark Gates who crave a luxiat’s wisdom.”
“High Lady, I didn’t—” Sweat stood out instantly on his face.
Karris said, “In another time, I should delight in giving you a second chance. Lust, after all, is a sin of the body. But you have gone beyond lust all the way to the depths of pride in giving reproof to another for your own sin. Thus does the weakness of your body cloud the eye of your mind. Orholam shall forgive you if you repent truly, but I have no time for you while there are still holy men and women in the Magisterium with unclouded sight who might give me true counsel. Begone.”
He looked at her for only a moment, seeing iron there. Then he looked to the Blackguards, who hadn’t even stepped forward, but their eyes were walls against him. He looked to the other courtiers, and saw no aid from any of them. Some, doubtless, he had worked with for years.
He turned on his heel, back straight, and strode from the room, huffing.
Karris obviously dismissed him from her mind before he got to the door. She gestured for the courtiers to leave.
She walked toward the slaves’ nook and sat in a chair there, allowing her slaves to work on her hair while she spoke. “My brothers and sisters—my former brothers and sisters,” she said to the Blackguards. “I hope you will not find me impertinent in borrowing a semblance of your garb. I should have asked first. I recently fought in a dress, and it nearly cost me my life. We are at war, and I will not be helpless. I trust you to defend me, but in turn, you can trust me to be as little of a burden as possible.” A grin stole over her face. “Plus, it’s impossible to find anything else nearly as comfortable as the blacks.”
They shared her grin.
“I think offense is the last thing we feel, High Lady…” Tempus paused. It was within protocol to address the White as ‘High Lady,’ but he’d obviously meant to append her name, and his wits failed him. ‘High Lady Karris’ because of their Blackguard friendship, or was that too informal? ‘High Lady Guile’ because of her long-hoped-for marriage? But that had been so brief and so painful, and did that seem to ignore all she had accomplished under her own name? ‘High Lady White Oak’? But did that seem to ignore her marriage?
She saw his dilemma. “I prefer ‘High Lady White,’ thank you. I am those other names as well, but for the time Orholam has given me in this office, I am the White before all else. Caleen?”
Her slaves had finished putting the pins in her hair, and now they set a large wig and headdress on Karris’s head. Luminous sea demon ivory had been carved into a seven-pointed crown. Suspended above the central point was a single winking diamond, smaller than one would expect. Platinum-white hair cascaded down around Karris’s shoulders, but each tip had been dyed one of the seven colors where it swept back up to entwine with the ivory crown.
Her only nod to her origins as a green and red drafter was a single earring in each ear, a ruby and an emerald. She waved away any powders. “I’m pale enough,” she said. “And I care not if they see me sweat.” Even while the slaves worked, another held up a series of parchments for her to peruse. The White would nod every so often, and the slave would turn the pages. The woman was illiterate, and once Karris had to motion for her to turn the page right side up.
The White was practicing her speech, Teia realized.
“I take it back,” Karris said. “Give me some powder.”
Captain Tempus cleared his throat. “On most days, the White being late would be expected, High Lady White. But noon waits for no one.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Karris said, peeved. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry. In the unexpected absence of my chief room slave, it is kind of you to remind me. I am well aware of the pressures of time today. Please don’t act differently. I’m not accustomed to… all of this. Any of it. Orea made it look so easy.”
“She’d been doing it ten years by the time you knew her,” Samite said. “Your first time in the sparring circle, you don’t try to win; you try to survive.”
“Doesn’t seem like an ideal time to be learning as I go, does it?” Karris asked.
Tell me about it, Teia thought.
Karris stood, her makeup finished. “Shall we?” she asked.
Samite said, “You aren’t… I mean I understand dismissing some slobbering luxiats, but you aren’t actually going out there like… Or do I need to find a new job?”
Karris grinned. “Ha! I was just playing with you. I wondered how far you’d let me go. All things may be permissible, but not all are fruitful.”
She beckoned, and two slave women came from the closet, carrying a dress between them. It opened like a clamshell, sideways. Karris stepped into the sleeves as if into a jacket, and the rest was buckled tight around her.