The pants were navy-blue wool and fit as if they had been tailored just for her. Her new shirt was linen with long cuffed sleeves, and a third package held a vest of dark red suede, similar in cut to the black one Vada wore but much finer. There were boots of supple leather and a small headband with an arrangement of scallop shells on one side. By the time Agnes was fully dressed, she wanted to cry.

She had never felt so comfortable or so much like herself—at least, the self she had always wanted to be. In these clothes, it was as if she had peeled off a layer of Kaolin and left it behind.

“Oh, Leo,” she said, unable to find one snarky thing to say in this moment. “It’s perfect.”

“I had to guess your size,” he said. “I’ve only ever picked out dresses for you.”

“Are you done yet?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m ready,” he said, and he sounded nervous. “Just . . . promise me you won’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?” She turned at the same time he did, and her mouth fell open.

“Leo,” was all she could bring herself to say.

Her brother had always cut a dashing figure in his suits and tuxedos, but to see him in Pelagan clothes, it was like looking at a different person. She wondered if that was how he was feeling as he stared at her.

Leo wore a pair of sleek black pants that tapered at the ankles, scarlet shoes with large gold buckles and chunky two-inch heels, and a champagne-colored shirt of the finest silk made in the traditional style favored by elite Pelagan men: large, billowing sleeves that cinched at the wrists with the front open in a wide V, its point plunging to his breastbone, exposing quite a bit of his chest. A turquoise sash that matched his eyes was tied around his waist.

“They made me buy this,” he said morosely, but before Agnes could ask who they were, he sighed and looked down at himself. “Never in my life would I have thought I’d be wearing the stupid Pelagan clothes Robert and I used to make fun of.”

“Robert was a small-minded idiot,” Agnes said. “And I don’t think you look stupid at all.” He gave her a withering look and she held up her hands. “I’m serious! I mean, it’s different from your usual style, but . . . it honestly sort of works on you.”

“I’m practically naked,” Leo said, tugging at the open V of silk. “Why don’t they button their shirts? Why don’t their shirts even have buttons? These pants are so tight I doubt I’ll be able to sit down. And why do I have to wear heels?”