The next morning, Victoria was looking down at herself, her mouth caught between a smile and a frown. The neck-to-toe black outfit was all made from the same dark fabric—as thick as leather, but without the sheen. It was like a suit of armor, only skintight and made from some strange cloth, not metal. She could feel the weight of her weapons where they were concealed—so neatly that even someone patting her down might think they were merely ribbing—and she swung her arms experimentally.
“Careful,” the short man in front of her said, his eyes wide. “You might take off my head.”
Behind them, Edward chuckled from where he leaned against the paneled wall of the training room. She hadn’t asked questions when he’d summoned her, then told her to put on the black suit and matching boots that were
