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The royal chambermaid had taken one look at her and had her swept her off to a bath. Her clothes were whisked away, and she was submerged in scorching hot water to be scrubbed clean before being wrapped in a soft towel and left alone.
By the look of him when he caught up to her, Locke had been subjected to a similar ordeal. The scruffiness from a fortnight in the desert had been scrubbed away, although he’d kept his clothes. His step stuttered as his gaze fell on her, and the warm flush in his cheeks intensified.
Terra blinked.
“Um,” Locke said eloquently, before finding his voice. “Found you something.”
He held a soft bundle out to her. Taking it, she turned it this way and that. The red dress unraveled in her hands.
“Doman silk. Thought it’d be nicer than that... the Imperial uniform you had.”
“Thank you,” she said, simply. The ice in his eyes when he talked of the Empire melted again.
“Edgar – ...you know, the King – said he’d like it if you’d come join us for dinner.” Smiling, Locke shrugged a shoulder casually. “So would I.”
Terra smiled. “I think I would like that, too.”