I sighed and slipped my arms into the wide open sleeves. The garment was loose, the collar lace, and it sank low on my chest, my nipples visible through sheer, delicate flowers. Laszlo cleared his throat and leaned around me, digging into the tangle of fabric. He pulled a long blue tunic out of the bundle, shaking the dust out, brushing the feathered backs of his hands over the embroidery of vines. "Here. This is…this is one of mine," he said, and he helped me dress in the sheath too, which clung a little around my hips and breasts. A brief flash of smug pride brightened his still features,
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