Selvara stared at her reflection in the mirror.
The village had provided traditional festival clothes for them, simple but elegant garments of deep blue and silver.
The dress felt strange against her skin, softer than the harsh leather and steel of her usual combat gear.
A small, hesitant smile touched her lips. It was a foreign expression, one she rarely used.
"You are looking too beautiful in this dress."
She spun around. Orion was standing in the doorway of her small, allotted room, leaning against the frame with a lazy grin on his face.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped, the smile vanishing instantly. "Get out. Oh, and that flattery won't do anything for me."
"Wait, I never said it would," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "And why would I? I know I never stood a chance against you. Not in a fight, and definitely not against your beauty."
She turned her back to him, facing the mirror again. "Enough."
