Chapter 64 : Uniforms and Expectations
The uniform came in a flat box tied with blue string, as though it were some precious relic instead of the source of what would become twenty minutes of shrieking from a former demon queen.
"I am not wearing this." Revantra dangled the navy pleated skirt like it had been soaked in acid. Her upper lip curled. "This fabric is an insult."
Elias didn't look up from the instruction manual he was attempting to decode—something about enchantments on the collar to suppress runaway spellcasting. "It's just a skirt. All the girls wear it."
"Then all the girls should revolt," she shot back. "This is tyranny disguised as cotton blend."
"It's actually a flame-resistant enchant-weave," he murmured, still scanning the fine print. "See, the embroidery on the hem absorbs—"
"I am the standard," she interrupted flatly. "I will not lower myself to 'blend in.' That's not how queens operate."
He glanced up at her then. Revantra stood with arms crossed, the uniform draped over one hand like a vanquished enemy. She was still technically a child—physically, at least—but there was an intensity in her glare that made her seem much older. Or older again.
It kept happening, in little flashes. A line in her posture. The rhythm in her voice. The way her golden eyes saw straight through him on certain days.
"You do remember this whole going-to-school-in-disguise thing was your idea, right?" Elias said, setting the paper down. "You were the one who begged to enroll and 'infiltrate the capital's magical elite.' Your words. Now you're upset they want you to wear a skirt?"
"I imagined infiltration would be more... dramatic," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Capes. Cloaks. Hidden blades. At least trousers."
"You want hidden blades, I can stitch one into the hem," he offered dryly. "But only if you wear it."