Chapter 40: My Bath Declared War on My Clothes

"I haven’t told you everything," Dove said. "That doesn’t make every accusation you enjoy correct. Rusk lied, and you used my body as your explanation for why Thorne stood up for me. I’d like you to deal with that before shopping for another mystery."

Ash looked toward the panther on the bench. He started to say Thorne had been distracted, then stopped when Dove asked whether distracted men routinely bled on the floor just to win arguments.

"I shouldn’t have said it," he admitted at last. He still wanted to know where her goods came from, and she still refused to turn that question into permission to insult her. The conversation ended with one wrong acknowledged, not a declaration of trust.

Behind the tarp, Dove bought the eight-normal-coin hand cream, lowering thirty normal to twenty-two. Her Favor purse held twenty-six. She rubbed cream over her knuckles, bent to hang her washcloth on the hook she had kept, and heard a seam give beneath her arm.

She froze with one hand raised. The dress had been tight that morning, but now the loosened lacing was not enough. Her breasts filled it differently, and when she tried to pull the skirt lower, the fabric caught over hips and a backside that had become noticeably rounder too.

"Absolutely fucking not," she whispered. "We just got clothes."

Sprout opened the pool description. The daily water had been strengthening and changing her body gradually; some changes became obvious only when they crossed a visible threshold. The smoother skin, shinier fur, better tolerance of cold, and altered fit were parts of the same process. A second wash that day would not speed it up.

"Could you have mentioned the structural changes before my dress filed for divorce?" she demanded. She wanted to know whether this kept happening forever. Sprout said it was gradual adaptation toward a stable condition, not endless growth, although it could not give her an exact schedule.

Dove checked her old borrowed shirt and found it too tight across the same problem. The newly unlocked stretch shelf offered a cropped sports top for ten normal coins and a pleated tennis skirt for eight. Their stretch fabric and elastic waist would fit; the proper winter coat was still sixty. She bought the two pieces, leaving four normal coins, and stared at the shortest practical solution she had ever regretted purchasing.

The top covered her, the skirt had built-in shorts, and neither seemed designed for surviving a frozen state. Inside the heated common hall she could manage for a minute. At the service door she would need another layer, improved cold tolerance or not.

She called Thorne from behind the tarp and asked whether he could fetch a loose wrap from stores. When he answered, she opened the gate enough to show him why her dress could no longer report for duty.

His eyes dropped once and stopped. For several seconds the man who caught falling women and loaded heavy crates appeared to forget what his arms were for. Dove felt heat spread across her face while his ears reddened above the silver waves.

"Thorne. Wrap. Before somebody puts me on the visitor notice."

He pulled off his coat at once, holding it open without touching her until she stepped forward. Warm lining settled around her shoulders. She caught the edges herself while he adjusted the back around her tail, careful not to trap it. His hands were steady again, which was more than she could say for her pulse.

"You could warn a man," he said quietly, looking at her face with what seemed like considerable effort.

"I tried warning my supplier. Apparently breasts are a surprise delivery." She immediately regretted saying breasts, because his mouth curved and she became painfully aware of how close they stood.

A carrier walked into an empty stool. Another stopped speaking halfway through a question, and the man beside him asked whether Dove needed anything brought from his household. Their attention would have been flattering if she were not holding her clothing together inside someone else’s coat.

She told them the shop reopened in five minutes and accepted none of the offers. Thorne waited while she fastened the coat, then asked whether she wanted him to stay. She said yes before thinking of a business excuse, and his smile made that answer feel far more revealing than the skirt.

Kael came when she asked to borrow a measuring cord for a larger dress. He checked whether the change hurt or left her weak, then examined her hand when she mentioned the morning’s firmer grip. His own new healing talent had not made him an expert on hers, and he said so. He had brought bread from another meal; using his power had made him hungry again.

Ash arrived while Kael held the cord against her sleeve. His gaze moved from the healer’s hand to the coat that plainly belonged to Thorne, and his expression tightened.

"Another examination?" he asked. Kael said she needed clothes that fit, which was something a leader with full stores could help arrange without solving every question about her. Dove almost kissed the man for the sentence, then firmly returned that thought to an internal waiting room.

Ash told the keeper to check for larger winter clothing. He did not stay to comfort her or ask whether she liked his helpfulness. Dove accepted the practical order without pretending it had become tenderness, then returned Kael’s cord after writing down her measurements.

Hale arrived with Varek as she settled behind the counter. His greeting died when she turned toward him, white hair loose over the dark coat and the borrowed cuffs pushed back from her hands. A thin line of blood appeared beneath his nose.

"Oh, for God’s sake," Dove said, passing him her ordinary personal face cloth. "Please tell me this isn’t another awakening."

He pressed it beneath his nose, keeping it with him, and recovered enough dignity to produce an offer sheet. Thorne moved beside the gate, closer than he had been before, while Dove tried not to enjoy that quite so much.

Hale’s eyes returned to her face. "Terminal could offer you a much more comfortable place," he said, and unfolded a page with her name already written at the top.