Our maid sweeps into the room, ignoring our antics. Her arms are laden with layers of sheer golden fabric. I catch a glimpse of Phaut out in the hall. Her short hair is tucked behind her ears, which are only slightly pointed. She looks like she’s just arrived to join Saengo’s guard, who’d been on the night shift. Then the maid swings the door shut with her foot.

“Come see!” The maid rushes past us into the bedroom. I fling one more piece of fruit at Saengo and then follow after her.

In the bedroom, the maid is shaking out a stunning wine-gold gown with matching robes. I suck in my breath.

The style is a little outdated but certainly Nuvali. Intricate gilt embroidery decorates the high collar and either side of the sleeveless bodice, a shade darker than the flowing skirt, which falls loose and airy in a stream of pale gold broken by panels of gossamer lace. A carmine sash embroidered at the ends in shimmering thread provides a bright stripe of color. Without even touching it, I know it’s spidersilk.

The maid beams as she spreads the lush dress across the foot of my bed. “Isn’t it beautiful? Oh, and this one is for Saengo.”

She rushes over to the second pile of fabric she’d left on Saengo’s bed and shakes it out. The gown is in a much different style. The neckline is cut lower, the waist higher, and the sleeves are long and billowing, spilling down over the full length of the dress.

“Since you’ve made friends with Hlau Theyen, I had to find you something more appropriate to wear.”

“I have not made friends with Theyen.” I cringe at the idea. “And he hasn’t even met Saengo yet.”

She waves away my comment. “Even so. This color will look perfect with your skin tone.”

“Where did you even find gowns like this in Spinner’s End?” I head into the bathing chamber to wash my hands and clean up. It’d be a waste to wear them for someone like Theyen. He’s not a friend, but at least he isn’t an enemy.

My hands still, the water cupped in my palms sluicing between my fingers into the silver basin.

Not everyone stands to benefit from what you can do.

No. He wouldn’t have dared. Sending a shadowblessed with powers not unlike his own would be too blatant. And yet the assassin had called me a weapon of the shamans, and Theyen made no secret of his dislike for me.

“They belonged to a previous guest,” the maid calls from the bedroom.

I close my eyes and resume washing my face. There will be time enough later to consider whether the assassin had been working alone or if he’d been sent.