18.0

"This is too creepy," Charles whispered into Zyrdicia's ear, as he put the finishing touches on her hair. He glanced furtively over his shoulder. Blackpool sat in a chair in the far corner of the room, staring hard at them. For once, the prince was not glaring or smirking. He was simply watching. Charles muttered, "I'm used to getting you ready for an audience, baby, not having one while I get you ready."

"Ignore him," she smiled, unperturbed.

Behind them, the prince nursed a snifter of brandy as he watched. He was frightfully calm. He had a vague sense at the moment that he was invincible. In a little over an hour, he would be crowned king of the North. His power would soon reach a terrifying zenith. He smiled smugly to himself.

He had kept his word about refusing to let Zyrdicia out of his sight tonight. He sent for her servants to dress her here, under his watchful eye. There would be no disappearances to the cloud world, to Lyr or to the ends of the cosmos prior to his coronation. He would have likely chained her in a corner if he had had access to material that would bind her. Charm served as a passable substitute.

Anthony walked in then. He did not bother to knock, already treating Blackpool's quarters as though it were Zyrdicia's. Dirk frowned in surprise at the obvious insubordination. Before he could utter a rebuke, Anthony held up one hand, its palm directed forcefully toward Zyrdicia's fiancee, "Don't start with me, princey! Not when I have work to do!"

"He gets bitchy when he's under a deadline," Charles warned helpfully.

Dirk's eyes narrowed. He fingered the monocle thoughtfully. It would be so easy to be rid of both of them. Soon, he hoped, very soon.

"Anthony, what took you so long?" Zyrdicia demanded.

"I changed my mind about the dress. I had to go back to Lyr to pick up a different one. You remember the one I designed for Old Temple's ten-thousand-year anniversary?"

"There was no ten-thousand-year anniversary. I cancelled it," she reminded him. Zyrdicia had, in fact, declared a new Lyrian calendar to replace the old one put in place by the Priests in ancient times. The new one began the moment of her birth. Now all Temple celebrations corresponded exclusively with her, which was far more palatable.

"I made the dress anyway. It's so totally perfect, honey! The world has to see you in it at least once. Please, please, please!"

"I couldn't care less which one," she muttered. Decisions about clothes were generally Anthony's affair, not hers. He worried about it so that she never had to. The last thing she had in mind tonight was a long episode of hand-wringing over it. She would look beautiful no matter which one he picked.

"Um...It's just...hear me out now! The dress is not...""

"Not what?"

"Err...not black."

Zyrdicia's head whipped around to glare at Anthony viciously, causing Charles to curse under his breath as he lost hold of a lock of hair he was trying to pin up. "You know better than to even ask, Anthony!" she snapped.

"But it's gorgeous!" Anthony protested, unafraid of her. His hands settled on his hips. "The world won't end if you don't wear black for one occasion! It's not like you are going out to kill people tonight!"

"Forget it," she replied stubbornly, turning back away from him when Charles' hands pushed her head back to a position that allowed him to work. Behind them, Anthony pouted silently, ruffling through one of several garment bags loudly.

Dirk's voice broke the tension in the room. "Show it to me," he commanded quietly.

Anthony smiled and then jumped, happy to comply. He carefully unwrapped the requested item, revealing a luscious expanse of velvet in a lovely shade of violet. Zyrdicia pointedly ignored the activity.

Dirk stood up and moved to examine the dress more closely on its hanger. Not surprisingly, the form was trademark 'Anthony', with a plunging neckline and very snug lines. The color was, of course, perfectly matched to her eyes. He ran his fingers along the long, narrow skirt, pondering it. His eyes moved to Zyrdicia's back.

"She will wear this one," the prince announced with an air of absolute finality.

"She will do as she likes," Zyrdicia responded without turning around.

"Exactly," Anthony cut in, his tone snide. "And you like to please him. You said so yourself."

"I did not!"

"When did she admit that?" Dirk wondered, amused. He found her servants less annoying now than at anytime since he'd known her.

"A while ago. It was at the Cauldron. I think it was a few days before your birthday after she'd been off arranging everything to take over the island. Charles and Portia heard her say it too," Anthony said matter-of-factly.

Charles confimed, "It's true. She said it. I think she was drunk at the time though."

"You're both such fucking liars!" Zyrdicia laughed. "I absolutely deny ever saying anything like that. I'll wear the damned dress just to prevent you both from spreading more lies about me."

"You'll wear it because you want to please me," Dirk teased cockily.

"I never told them I like to please you." She glanced at the dress on the hanger and arched a brow. "But what could possibly please you about me wearing color?" She could not resist the urge to sneer as she uttered the final word.

"Novelty."

"I'm not a doll to be dressed in whatever way strikes your fancy."

"Perhaps. But you are my toy nonetheless."

Before the exchange could go any farther, Anthony interrupted, "OH. MY. GOD. What is that - that - horrible thing?" His hands fluttered urgently, gesturing in horror to a purple and silver garment hanging outside an armoir.

"My royal cape. Obviously," Dirk answered, as though the question were quite stupid.

"Oh, no, honey. You aren't really going to wear that piece of textile tragedy tonight, are you?" Anthony grimaced.

"Of course I am! My coronation demands it!"

"Then demand some fashion sense for yourself and burn that thing!" Anthony snapped his fingers loudly. "No. I just can't let you wear it! It would be a disaster. Complete catastrophe."

"It may be a particular disaster for you," Dirk replied coldly, the threat manifest in his voice.

"That's what I mean!" Anthony snapped, oblivious. "What would people think of me if I sent her out with you in that -- that -- thing. I would be a laughing stock. Someone might think I was responsible for it. How embarassing!" Anthony walked over to the cape and shook his head. "How could anyone do this to you?"

"Do what to me?"

"Silver lamé! It's too terrible to even imagine! Seriously, you should execute whoever made it. They had to have meant it as a sick joke to make you look foolish."

Zyrdicia glanced over to see what the fuss was about. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "He's right, Dirk. It is ugly."

"Anthony may be full of crap about most things, but you should trust his eye about clothes, princey," Charles agreed.

Dirk looked at the cape, suddenly self-conscious. No one in this world ever dared to criticize his wardrobe. He always thought of himself as exceedingly well dressed. The glittering lamé fabric was prized among the Aparansian royalty. "What's wrong with it?" he demanded defensively.

"It looks like something that belongs to a Vegas lounge singer," Anthony muttered. Seeing no reaction register on Dirk's face, he explained, "It's foofy! Totally antithetical to the whole tall-dark-and-handsome-mean-and-scary persona you always project. And we just don't do foofy."

"Foofy?" Dirk repeated, looking at Zyrdicia for a translation.

"Tacky. Akin to pink tafetta," she offered, laughing.

"WHAT?!"

Anthony glanced at Charles, uncertain whether to proceed. Charles nodded quickly then whispered, "Now's your chance. Go for it!"

Anthony reached inside one of the garment bags and pulled out a small, black swatch of cloth. He tossed it to the floor, then reached inside the magical space that appeared in the stone. He pulled out a very large, heavy bundle, then proceeded to unwrap it. "Fortunately for you, princey, I plan ahead. And your valet is a sweetie and helped me figure out your measurements."

Dirk pointedly ignored Anthony's meddling - for now. Zyrdicia's tailor had exquisite talent, and for the moment, the prince was too overwhelmed by curiosity to see what was in the bundle. His eyes narrowed in anticipation as he watched Anthony pick up an enormous roll of black leather. Anthony unrolled it, and held it up.

Dirk inhaled sharply at the sight. It was a cape of the same wonderfully shiny patent leather Zyrdicia so often wore. It fastened with a thick, silver chain across the front. He reached out to touch it. It felt surprisingly thick. As his fingers ran along a seam, he realized why. The leather itself was not the source of the thickness. It was something between the glossy exterior and the supple glove-leather lining. He shot Anthony a quizzical look.

"The fill inside is an arcanoid fabric. The magic makes it a little weird feeling," Anthony explained. "It's lighter than it looks."

"Arcanoid?" Dirk repeated, confused.

"Um, a Lyrian thing. Special fabric injected with arcanium powder, maybe an eighth of an inch thick. It's mostly used for body armor."

The prince cocked his head, looking at the garment. His eyes glittered. "Armor?"

"Non-magical blades can't cut through it. Go for it."

Dirk quickly retrieved his two-pronged dagger. He thrust it without hesitation into the cape, right at Anthony. Anthony closed his eyes and cringed. Despite the force, the blade did not penetrate the leather. A scarcely visible scuff mark was the only damage. "Amazing," the prince breathed, gazing at the garment covetously.

Dirk turned to Zyrdicia, arching an eyebrow. "Did you tell him to make this?"

"I had no idea he was doing it," she answered earnestly, shaking her head. She pulled away from Charles to go examine the object herself. She glanced at Anthony, "Moonlighting?"

"Accessorizing!"

She nodded in approval. Anthony had done this with Magnus too. He claimed he needed control over Magnus' wardrobe to make sure the assassin did not make her look bad, or rather, make Anthony's clothes that she wore look bad. Like matching boots or gloves, whoever was at Zyrdicia's side had to complement her visually. She was surprised it had taken Anthony this long to warm up to Dirk. The formal events - and audience - of the past few days seemed to have forced the issue.

"I'm pleased with it," Dirk whispered, still enraptured.

Anthony pointed inside the lining, "I didn't know whether you would want secret compartments for knives or other toys. So I made an executive decision and put them in. Easier to design them in then add them later, you know?"

"Show me!"

"See, here along the inner seams? There's one on each side. Placement is sort of a matter of personal preference, so I just put them where 'Dicia likes them. Hopefully you can make it work. Here, try it on!"

Dirk snatched the cape eagerly, and threw it around his shoulders.

"Who did you pay to enchant the arcanium, Anthony?" Zyrdicia inquired.

"Kruzt. He put it on your tab."

"How is the repair work on my mail coat proceeding?"

"Um, Kruzt said if you asked to tell you that repairing antiques that old takes patience. He's estimating a decade, give or take."

"Your armorer?" Dirk wondered, glancing at Zyrdicia in the mirror as he admired himself in the cape.

"Sort of. A very talented dwarven arcanium crafstman. Mostly he fixes things when I break them." She smiled, and added, "The cape looks wonderful. It suits you."

Anthony looked the prince up and down and advised, "I'm hoping I can talk you into not always wearing your usual costume. It's great looking and all, but we see you in it too much. My thought was by having the cape magicked, you'd lose the other armor once in a while. You looked great last night without all the padding." He snapped his fingers suddenly, "Damn! I almost forgot! I also made you pants out of the same leather."

"You have been moonlighting," Zyrdicia laughed.

Anthony cocked his head cattily. "Stay away too long and I'll find other inspiration, honey."