Persuader by Amy Campbell

Author:Amy Campbell [Campbell, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Legend Has It, LLC

Chapter Thirty-Two

Passive Aggression

Vixen

Once they finished making plans, Jefferson drifted back to bed, his handsome face lined with exhaustion. Blaise transitioned to a flurry of nervous baking, which Vixen didn’t complain about because everything he made was mouth-wateringly delicious and filled the house with sweet, yeasty scents. Nibbling on an assortment of cookies, muffins, and tarts was a pleasant distraction from what was coming.

Mid-afternoon, Blaise headed upstairs to rouse Jefferson so that they could dress for the gala. Vixen went to her own guest room, sighing as she regarded the lovely dress that had been delivered late that morning. It was a striking emerald green, a color that would bring out the vibrant red of her hair. But the fact remained that it was a dress, and Vixen didn’t much care for them. Trousers were much more comfortable.

She chewed on her bottom lip, reconsidering. While she might have to return to her former life, Vixen had changed—and wouldn’t it be fitting for some of those changes to come with her? With a nod, she decided she liked the idea. Her reintroduction was going to cause a ruckus, so she may as well run with it in her own way.

And in that case, she had just the thing. Vixen grinned as she popped open her travel trunk. In all the chaos of their arrival, she hadn’t even unpacked. She dug around and pulled out the outfit she’d finished back in Fortitude shortly before they’d left. The fabric of the corset had wrinkled, but that was something she could fix.

“Gods, this will be almost scandalous,” Vixen murmured to herself, running a hand over the silky ruffles of the short skirt. But something about it felt right. As the Spark, she’d always been told to trust her gut. That Garus had given her the wisdom to find her way. There had been many times she’d doubted that after she’d discovered she was a mage. But now, in this moment, Vixen wanted to believe that the god she’d been born to represent approved.

She remedied the wrinkled fabric, then set about dressing. Vixen paired it with some flattering striped trousers she’d brought along. They clung to her shape in a manner that a proper Confederation woman would disdain. I’m not a proper Confederation woman, though. That thought made her smile.

To complete the outfit, Vixen pulled out her knee-high riding boots. They were dusty and scuffed from use. That wouldn’t do—if she showed up with footwear in such a state, she’d lose any advantage this was giving her. She visited Blaise and Jefferson’s room to inquire after boot polish. With her prize in hand, Vixen headed back to her room to clean and polish the leather until it gleamed.

Once the boots were on, she saw to her hair and rouged her lips. Then she studied her reflection in the floor-length mirror, swallowing. The creature staring back at her was a cross between the Valoria of old and the Vixen of now. She lifted her chin, deciding that she liked the woman staring back at her.

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