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Chapter 22: Lace is war
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Chapter 24: The date (1)
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... reath that did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves and everything to remind him that the lace threaded through his back was alive. Or at least, enchanted. Possibly cursed.
The shirt Gloria had insisted on, a soft, obsidian-black thing with a barely-there sheen and open-backed lace designed to shimmer like liquid ink, felt both dangerously flattering and like a diplomatic risk. The trousers were elegant and white, flowing and long enough to cover his black leather shoes. And over it all ...
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