But I knew I’d have to deal with this. As much as I wanted to believe my sex shouldn’t be an issue, Yorans didn’t see gender as role expression. To them, it was nothing more than a person’s physical form. The vessel’s shape, never the contents within. So I was a woman to them, and they thought women were … only.

Only wives. Only mothers. Only chattel.

I ground my teeth.

I heard the main door open. “Are you two ready?”

Senera’s voice.

“One moment.” I sighed and tossed the chemise and red dress over my body. The dress fit tightly around the bodice and flowed below the waist. I thought I’d trip on the damn thing, coming and going, if I ever had to use stairs. Despite the wool, the fabric provided no protection if I ever had to go into the cold, which was probably deliberate.

Winter is a fantastic cage if all you’re wearing is a summer dress.

“I brought shoes. I hope they’ll fit. Qown, why don’t you try those on?”

I entered the room. Senera had switched to a silver dress that made her look like a marble statue enchanted into life. It had the same flaring shape as mine, although the dress had been cut looser at the top. She wore tiny silver pins in her hair and rings on her fingers, but nothing I could take away from her and use as a weapon.

For some reason, she wore a small slate inkstone. The undecorated gray stone rested in a silver cradle hanging around her neck. I thought it must have been a guild symbol or perhaps a scribe symbol.

“You look lovely,” she said to me.

“I don’t feel it.” I walked over to the dresser and opened it. Arrayed in neat rows, I found gold rings and necklaces and a long sweeping metal belt meant to be worn low around the hips. I took it, thinking I could use it as an improvised flail. The jewelry looked to be very fine quality: gold with gems like fire. Rubies, jacinths, topazes, and carnelians. I didn’t recognize the style except to note it wasn’t Joratese.

Halfway through, I realized the signals this would send in Jorat—a powerful, proud, successful stallion—might not have the same meaning in Yor.

I paused.

“Whose jewelry am I wearing?”

“Relos Var’s,” she replied.

I began removing the jewelry.

“No, no,” she said, holding up her hands. “Look, I understand how you must be feeling.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“This is for your protection.”

“In what possible way is that true?”