Chapter 293: Crop Tops, Water Skirts, and the Queen Who Demanded a Turn
Chapter 293: Crop Tops, Water Skirts, and the Queen Who Demanded a Turn
Elyn’s POV
Velira grabbed my hand before I could even take a step toward the screen.
"Come on, come on, come on," she said, her purple wings fluttering so fast they were almost a blur. She was already pulling me across the room, her small feet barely touching the woven mats.
Thalira followed close behind, and Brixton trailed after us with the outfit clutched carefully in his hands. His ears were still red from earlier, but at least he wasn’t smoking anymore.
Behind the screen, the painted foxes watched from the panels, their eyes seeming to follow me as Velira and Thalira helped me out of the fire dress and into the new outfit.
The crop top was strange.
I hadn’t worn anything like it since my past life, and even then, it had been a rare occurrence, given the fact that I always worked and my office had a dress code... no crop tops.
The fabric was soft against my skin, cool and smooth, and the long sleeves made my arms look almost ethereal, like they belonged to someone from a painting or a dream. The neckline sat high against my collarbone, but the back dipped low, and I could feel the cool air against my spine.
The skirt was something else entirely.
It flowed from my waist in soft, rippling layers, the light blue fabric moving whenever I shifted. Unlike the other dresses I had tried, this one didn’t have a train or a long hem that pooled around my feet. It stopped just above my ankles, light and airy, and when I turned, the layers swirled around me like waves.
I hadn’t actually worn a skirt since arriving in the demon realm. I had worn gowns and trousers too, but not skirts.
I stepped into the room for my judges to, well... judge.
Zayrion wrote on his card and held it up.
One thousand points.
Azerion nodded slowly, his blue eyes studying the outfit with an expression that was almost thoughtful. His arms were still crossed, but his posture had relaxed slightly.
"It’s beautiful, even more beautiful than what the king chose," he said.
Zorathys rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything in reply... thankfully.
"The Queen looks like a water princess, right?" Thalira asked.
I laughed at that.
"I’m not sure that’s a compliment."
"It is," she insisted. "Water princesses are beautiful. Everyone knows that."
Retheris, who had picked the outfit in the first place, looked immensely pleased with himself. His light blue hair seemed to glow in the light, matching the skirt almost perfectly.
Zorathys studied me for a long moment, his ruby eyes moving over the outfit — the crop top, the long sleeves, the flowing skirt. His shadows had gone still around him, like they were waiting for his verdict.
Then he nodded.
"It suits you," he said simply.
And somehow, that meant more than all the points and praise combined.
"Alright," I said, turning back to the children. "Who’s next?"
Zayrion was already walking toward the racks.
He returned with a deep green jumpsuit — which the fox demons called a "suit jump," which wasn’t actually surprising in the slightest.
The fabric was soft and stretchy, with gold threading along the sides that caught the lantern light. When I tried it on behind the screen, it fit like it had been made for me — hugging my body in some places, flowing in others, somehow managing to be both comfortable and elegant at the same time.
Zayrion had given it a thousand points... again.
Azerion surprised me next.
He walked over to the racks with a determined expression, his small hands searching through the clothes until he found what he was looking for. A pair of black trousers and a matching jacket, both embroidered with silver designs that caught the light — delicate patterns that looked like stars scattered across dark fabric.
I almost laughed.
Behind the screen, I changed into the trousers and jacket. The fabric was smooth and cool against my skin, and the fit was surprisingly good. The trousers sat high on my waist, and the jacket cinched at the front with small silver clasps that looked like tiny stars.
When I stepped out, Azerion glanced at me, then looked away, then glanced again.
A thousand points from Zayrion again, and Zorathys grudgingly agreed it was quite nice.
Velira found a purple gown — of course she did — with wing-shaped cutouts on the back that matched her own wings. The fabric was a deep, rich violet, almost the same shade as her hair, and it shimmered whenever I moved. She held it up to me with such hope in her eyes that I couldn’t say no.
Thalira picked a pale blue dress that reminded me of the morning sky back in Aelthryn — simple and elegant, with sleeves that fell past my hands like water and a hem that brushed the floor.
Brixton selected another too — a cream-coloured blouse with delicate embroidery along the collar. Tiny flowers were stitched into the fabric, their petals silver and gold, and the sleeves were loose and flowing. He handed it to me without meeting my eyes, his ears burning red.
Aziren, still perched on Zorathys’s lap, pointed at a golden dress that shimmered like sunlight. Zorathys’s shadows retrieved it without a word, and when I held it up, the fabric felt warm against my fingers.
I tried on everything. Zorathys was the one who suggested most of the clothes, but I tried everything on. It was quite nice.
But after what felt like hours changing in and out of clothes, of twirling and turning and being rated by them, I was tired.
Exhausted, actually.
My feet ached. My arms were sore from pulling sleeves on and off. My hair, which had been carefully styled by Vaelory before we left the palace, was now a tangled mess that fell around my shoulders in wild curls.
I looked at the children, but they were still full of energy.
Energy which I did not have. It was time to change that too.