The next few days at the manor were quiet.  Cariun did not say anything about what had angered him so much and Olive did not bring it up.  The next morning he’d stumbled downstairs still reeking of alcohol and so Olive had avoided him.  He might be responsible for her well-being, but that didn’t mean she would put up with his tendency for self-destruction.  Tiyrus was right.  He was his own worst enemy.

Sucking up to one of his siblings until she could get off this wretched hellhole was looking more tempting by the day, she thought dourly.

Miene and Lylle were the only high points in her days.  She was able to make an introduction of Miene to Lylle the very next day.  The maid tended to have free time in the late morning, when the day’s preparations were done and her master hadn’t been up long enough to make new requests of her time.  Lylle was embarrassed to learn that Olive wasn’t actually a maid, but Olive quickly laughed it off as an entirely understandable mistake.  She explained that she was a scholar, just as she’d told Miene.  Her parents were well-off, but not so much that she didn’t have an aversion to doing work herself.  Besides, she continued, her university expected their students to fend for themselves in many ways, regardless of a person’s background.  She’d been on her own long enough to know she had to learn to do things for herself.  It was a good explanation for why she had the willingness to work, but lacked the common skills to do many of the basic things in this world.

Olive wasn’t a very good liar, so this was her trick for getting away with it.  Tell something so close to the truth that it felt like she wasn’t lying and could easily improvise without worrying about contradictions.  And maybe it was the truth, she thought.  It was her world explained in a way they could relate to.

Lylle was happy to teach Miene what she needed to know.  While Miene wasn’t willing to talk about her past, she had the rough basics of everything she needed to know.  Her mannerisms were all that needed polishing, and Olive was happy to sit in on those explanations so she could learn as well.  Lylle would come over to Cariun’s manor to visit, as it was emptier and she could use the servant’s gate in the back without being noticed.  They’d sit in Olive’s tower and talk.  By then, the tailor had dropped off two deliveries and the three took great delight in looking through them.

The first dress was rather plain in design, with a wide neckline, loose sleeves, and a sash to gather the skirt.  Suitable for wearing at home, Lylle told her.  But what it lacked in design elements it made up for in decoration.  It was a deep burgundy, and the darker the color the stronger the dye, Lylle said keenly.  It was a quick way to show off one’s wealth.  The entirety of the fabric was crisscrossed with fine white embroidery that had clearly been added after the dress’s construction, in order to ensure the lines all matched up.  It was incredible for Olive, staring at it and knowing it was all made by hand.  Lylle and Miene, however, were more impressed with the color and everything else about it felt ordinary.

The other deliveries were clothing of similar practicality.  Another dress with lace around the neck and sleeves and a layered skirt that could be pinned up around the knees when it was hot.  Suitable for going out in ordinary places, Lylle said.  Enough to show off her status, but not so much that it would attract undue attention.  There was a nightgown, which greatly relieved Olive, and an outfit with pants.

There was still something missing, though, which Olive’s new friends pointed out while she was showing the clothing off.

“You need shoes,” Lylle said.  “Yours are obviously expensive, but you won’t want to wear them everywhere.”

“They don’t match the dresses, either,” Miene commented.  Olive was starting to feel the woman was planning to live vicariously through her.

“I know where you can get some simple ones,” Lylle continued.  “It’ll suffice until the prince commissions a cordwainer.”

Miene was the one to fetch the shoes.  Cariun handed over money without hesitation when she asked.  He didn’t seem to disapprove of Mien.  It was more like he was waiting for it to all fall apart.  But it wasn’t going to just yet, Olive thought.  She was going through the books on history and etiquette that he’d brought and she had new clothing and new shoes.  

The shoes were another unexpected adjustment.  The soles were only a few thin pieces of leather.  It was fortunate she was walking on natural materials like stone or wood.  She’d probably kill herself by slipping on linoleum.

For a few scant days it felt like everything was going to be okay.  And then it wasn’t.

Cariun burst into her room while she sat studying by the window.  He stared at her a moment and Olive didn’t know what to say.  He looked… furious.  No.  Not quite.  Intent, certainly.  Tense.  Aggravated.  But also…

Frightened.

He threw open her wardrobe and started rustling through the dresses.  Olive slammed her book shut and stood.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“How fast can you put this on?” Cariun said, ignoring her question.

He turned, holding up the most ornate dress the tailor had delivered.  The neckline was low and square, trimmed with pearls.  The sleeves were full and cut to trail almost on the floor, with layers of lace on the inside.  The skirt was much the same, slit up the middle and lined with pearls, revealing the stiff lace folds beneath.  Getting into it wasn’t much trouble.  Lacing it, however, was impossible to do alone, as it had to be laced up the back.

“I need Miene to lace it.”

“She’s making tea.  Put it on and call me back in.  I’ll do the laces myself.  I’m sure I can figure it out.”

The last bite of sarcasm was the only deviation from his uncharacteristic urgency.  Olive frowned.  Something was wrong.

“What is going on?” she asked.

“The queen is paying us a visit.  She’s already on her way.”

“Shit!”  

Olive hastily hurried to take the dress from Cariun and he obligingly stepped outside so she could get changed.  She was grateful that Mien had insisted she try the dress on the day it was delivered, because she knew how to get it on by herself now.  Then she called Cariun back inside.  He didn’t even pretend to avert his gaze, much to Olive’s annoyance.  Did he not respect anyone, or was it just her?  

Her heart hammered as he took the ends of the ribbon at the small of her back and drew it tight.  He worked quickly, jerking hard at the fabric so that it took her breath away.  She inhaled, filling her lungs so that he couldn’t tie it too tight.  While it wasn’t the fashion to constrict the ribcage - thank goodness - it was certainly possible if someone went at it as roughly as Cariun.

“If you snap that ribbon, I’m going out to greet the queen in a nightgown,” Olive hissed.

His fingers grazed the middle of her back.  She could feel his touch through the thin layer of fabric and she shivered.  He paused for a moment and in the silence she was aware of his breathing, slightly fast, gently touching the back of her neck.

“Wait a moment,” she said.

The dress was made to support her bust, but it took a little arranging first.  Miene had told her how.  She hastily slid one hand down each side of her chest, grabbing her breasts and lifting them up above the seam that marked the start of her bust.  Her face burned.

“Okay, keep lacing,” she said.

“I’ve wondered how ladies accomplish that,” Cariun remarked dryly.

“A gentleman wouldn’t comment,” Olive snapped.

“Did I ever make you believe you were a gentleman?”

She felt him finish tying the ribbon between her shoulderblades.  She spun before he said he was finished, taking a step backwards and staring him directly in the eyes.  He didn’t seem perturbed.

“No, you certainly have not,” Olive said.  

Then she brushed past him, striding purposefully towards the door.

“Now let’s go greet your step-mom,” she said.  “I’m sure we’ll get along so well.”

She didn’t have to look back to know he was scowling in anger.