Iarion lowered the dress with a scowl.
“Maybe it’s a mistake,” Alfiabalas consoled him. “Maybe she meant to grab something else instead.”
Iarion gave him a black look. “You saw the way her sisters were giggling and how she blushed. No, she meant to give this to me. She probably didn’t even know why.”
He began pacing the deck with the dress clutched in his hand.
“Careful,” Alfiabalas couldn’t resist saying. “Silk has a tendency to crumple.”
Iarion looked up from his pacing to give him a flat look. “Thanks.” He flung the dress over his shoulder instead as he muttered a few choice words under his breath.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to wear Rasniwyn’s dress, you might as well try to look the part,” Alfiabalas found himself continuing before he could stop himself. His voice was thic
