Boy of Shadows by Camilla Vavruch

Author:Camilla Vavruch [Camilla Vavruch]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter sixteen

Liam's Secret

“Are you serious? I look like I’m playing dress-up.”

Tristan chuckled. “You are gorgeous.”

Will twisted and turned in front of the three mirrors. Tristan wasn’t lying; the suit matched Will beautifully, the dark color bringing out the blue of his eyes. With his newly cut hair, he looked like a young lord. The tailor sat hunched, fastening pin after pin to make sure the garments fit to perfection.

“Would you rather have your rags back?” Tristan smiled.

“Even if I did, you burned them,” Will said, sounding put out.

“I did the world a favor.” He ignored the stab of bad conscience.

“They were still my clothes.”

“They consisted more of holes than of fabric,” Tristan said. Gentler, he added, “You look great.” He turned his head to Shade, perched on his shoulder. “Doesn’t he look great?”

She cooed in approval.

Will chuckled. “This won’t be practical in the fields.”

Tristan had no intention of ever letting Will return to the fields, but it was not a discussion for day two of their relationship, at least not at the tailor’s. Here, they were merely friends, for now. At some point, the world—or at least the Upper’s gossip mongers—would find out, but not today.

That was when Liam Garrensor entered the tailor’s.

“Overster Arrington,” he drawled, tone suggesting he did not think Tristan should have such a title. At least he didn’t call him Oddington this time.

Tristan did not feel like talking to Garrensor when he was enjoying his day with Will. “Lord Garrensor.”

Garrensor glanced at Shade and sneered. “You really think you need to add to your weirdness by walking around with a bird on your shoulder?”

Shade let out a squeak, flapping her wings.

Garrensor backed away a step and Tristan smirked at him. “You’re not afraid of a bird, are you?”

“That thing might be diseased,” Garrensor said. He stepped further into the tailor’s, keeping a wide berth from Shade, his gaze on Will. “And who is your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met.” He eyed Will from his blond locks to his bare feet, appraising him as if he was thinking about buying him.

Tristan stepped in between Garrensor and Will, who watched Garrensor through the mirror but didn’t dare move for fear of the tailor’s pins. Garrensor moved away from Tristan as if he carried the red plague rather than a pretty bird.

“Do you have a booking with the tailor?” Tristan asked.

Garrensor scoffed. “I don’t need one. I’m Overster Garrensor’s son and if I need a suit, he will make time for me.”

The tailor in question did not seem inclined to go between the two nobles.

“Not right now, he’s busy,” Tristan said. “Go bother someone else.” Orson’s words about gaining the respect of the nobility echoed through his mind.

“Always so tetchy.” Garrensor shook his head as if Tristan was a disappointment. “And here I was, only trying to greet your friend. Though I will admit my surprise—I didn’t think anyone could actually stand to be close to you more than a minute or two, Arrington.”

“That is Overster Arrington to you,” Tristan snapped.

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