At first light Yinric got up. He hadn’t slept so much as he’d tossed and turned on the floor all night. Sarin was sleeping in his bed, wrapped in his quilt. Her night dress had been hung by the fireplace alongside her cloak to dry. Her hair had sprung up into a halo of thick black curls. His breath clouded the air. He folded and organized his belongings as quietly as he could.

He didn’t have much. Everything fit surprisingly neatly into his pack except for his lute, but that had its own case. Luckily, he had some savings set aside. They weren’t much but it would buy them at least a night at a cheap inn to figure out a plan.

After a moment of deep breathing he stepped out into the common room. He hadn’t heard the front door open at any point during the night but somehow his father had already headed out for the day. The door to his room hung ajar. A newspaper was laid open on the table. A heavy pouch weighed it in place on top of a pile of folded clothes.

Yinric opened the pouch first. Gold. Enough of it to make his stomach turn with guilt. He didn’t dare count it. The newspaper was opened to a page of advertisements and room listings. The cheapest ones were circled in red ink. His father only ever wrote in red ink. He said it was more romantic and made written songs extra potent, whatever that meant.

“Is my shift dry?” The voice made Yin jump. Sarin stood in the open doorway to his room with the quilt acting as a make-shift gown. Yinric glanced back at the fireplace. Her night dress was gone. He looked under the paper at the folded pile of linens. Under them were a pair of simple shoes.

“I think my father used it for measurements and got you a new dressing set.”

“Oh.” Sarin walked over, her bare feet patting the cold stone. She ran her hand over the top garment. Her thick eyebrows hung low over intense eyes. She refrained from offering her thoughts on this, though she clearly had many. “I don’t typically dress myself,” she said slowly before moving a probing gaze to Yinric. “Would you know how to assist me?”

He stepped to take the quilt from her. “I’ve undressed and redressed many-“

“-Don’t look.” She pulled the quilt tighter around herself. He blinked. The house creaked.

“I’ve already seen you naked.”

“This is different.” A blush started from the base of her neck and bloomed in her cheeks. Yinric blinked again.

“I’m not gonna be able to tie the lacing with my eyes closed,” he insisted with a tentative step forward. She looked about ready to cry. He sighed. “Alright, alright. You should be able to get the shift on by yourself. I’ll close my eyes until you’re ready with the kirtle.”

She glared. “Fine. No peeking.”

“I will not.” He covered his eyes with his hands.

“I’ll punch you in the dick if you do.”

He uncovered his eyes to squint at her. “Excuse me?”

She raised her chin at him indignantly. “I did not stutter.”

He laughed and recovered his eyes. “You don’t dress yourself, but you swear. What kind of household are you from?”

“My father is an herb merchant. Under the current circumstances, I think I’ve earned the right to a few choice words.”

He laughed again. “Only a few? What others have you selected?”

“Hopefully I won’t need to say them. Ready.” He uncovered his eyes again. She had turned her back to him. 

She managed to put the shift on without issue, he could see the hem of it poking out from underneath the neckline of the yellow kirtle. She had pulled the kirtle on with the laces at the back. The front of the bodice was far too tight and the shoulder blades were awkwardly frumpy. There were additional slits and lacing along the sides as well. 

He reached out, unsure if it was appropriate for him to touch her or where. Grabbing her waist would be too much. Was a hand on the shoulder tactful? Inordinate? Ultimately he decided not to.

“I think you have it backwards.”

“But the laces-“

“-This one has them on the front so you can dress yourself.” He helped her wriggle her arms back in and spin the garment around. Instantly it fit over her breast better. His father had gotten the measurements near exact. It was baggier around the midsection than what most women would prefer. That was probably intentional. Sarin got to work lacing up the front. Yinric knelt beside her to start on the sides.

“The only thing I'm not sure of are these side slits.” He said while lacing up her left. “The buttons at the top of the bodice are also strange.” He pulled at the thick ribbon to tighten the fit. The fabric pulled taut across her stomach. He looked up at her. She looked down at him. Her face burned scarlet. “I see. It’s adjustable.” He loosened the tie before doing the same on her right. Once he’d finished he took a step back. Sarin covered her face with her hands.

“It looks weird?”

“You look fine. I wouldn’t notice you in a crowd.”

She let her hand fall to her hips, unamused.

“You look ethereal! I would stop in my tracks to watch you pass.”

“That isn't what I meant.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone will be able to tell.”

“Ah. Y-yes.” He couldn't imagine how anyone previously didn’t until now.

“Well then. We may as well milk this to get sympathy points in the form of discounted rent.” She tied the apron around her waist, making her figure visually more pronounced.

“You are indeed the daughter of a merchant,” he whispered.