"You need a bigger room. Rooms, actually. Plural." He shot a sour look at her door, the frame of which was likely the cause of more head injuries than all of the immortals in the realm put together.
"This room is plenty big enough, Numair. Not all of us have so much extra of ourselves," she motioned at him and he ignored her teasing.
"It's a closet, magelet."
"It's a fine dwelling."
"No, I mean it's quite literally a closet. It wasn't meant for someone to live in, and certainly not for years."
"Onua's assistants usually sleep in the barracks. It was very generous for them to give me my own quarters."
"Yes, when you were an assistant." He couldn't quite believe he was explaining this again. "You're the Wildmage, Daine. I think your service to the realms has earned you decent rooms, at the very least."
"Hush, I just need to get rid of some things. Help me sort." She moved to the chest at the foot of her bed and took a deep breath. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why she looked so nervous but his question was answered when she unlatched the chest with what could only be described as a tiny explosion of fabric.
"Mithros, how did you get it all in there in the first place?" He plucked a pink cotton dress from the ground and threw it on the bed.
"Alanna magicked it for me a couple years back," she sighed, "but even that doesn't seem to be helping any more. I hate to throw any of them away when I've managed not to ruin them but," she shrugged.
She pulled out a dove-grey tunic style dress he recognized from her first winter at court. "Surely you've grown out of some of these."
"In height only, I'm afraid," she replied, looking down at herself with a sour look. He ignored the comment, not sure how to reassure her without crossing lines he shouldn't even be thinking of. "But yes, Kuri said she would take anything that didn't fit or wasn't needed. If it's too out of style she'll turn it into something else." She looked at the mess in front of them, hands on her hips and head cocked.
"Throw that on the chair over there," she pointed. "That can be the give pile."
They worked together efficiently when they wanted to, taking time to be silly and wayward as they pleased. She was characteristically unsentimental when it came to making decisions and the pile of fabric on the chair grew quickly enough. She kept select pieces in addition to her regular seasonal dresses —a gown from Carthak, and an embroidered cloak gifted to her by Alanna and George among them. He had expressed disappointment when she had tossed a blue dress he was fond of onto the pile and was pleased to see her pull it back out when she thought he wasn't looking.
"Oh, looks like Kuri has some more work ahead of her. This one's not even finished." He held up an emerald green dress of draped silk. She looked up at him and turned red.
"Oh, no—that's finished."
He looked back at the gown, holding it out in his hands to inspect it. It was missing fabric in areas that he was sure usually required it to be considered finished. Particularly for the dresses he was used to her wearing. He looked back at her, eyebrows raised, and she laughed.
"Are you blushing?" He knew she was teasing him to distract from her own blush, it was a tactic that often worked.
"A little," he admitted. "I'm not sure I want to know where you've been going in it," he muttered, lowering the offending garment.
She laughed outright at that. "Nowhere . Gods, I haven't been able to work up the nerve." She stood, wiping dust from her breeches, and shook her head. "I'm afraid I was a little more ambitious than I could handle when it came down to it. Not everyone can handle the most daring fashions," she mimicked Thayet, a little too well.
He handed it to her, shaking his head. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, magelet. Looking poorly is the last problem that dress would bring."
"So I should keep it?" She raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised. "Midsummer?" She held it up to her shoulders and he tried not to imagine what it would look like on her.
"Absolutely not. I said it would look good on you, not that it wouldn't be trouble." He rolled his eyes. "Dresses like that attract nothing but mischief and trouble, and boys that like to make mischief and trouble."
"You speak from experience?" She flashed an impish grin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he teased back, mirroring her smile and tweaking her nose. She cocked her head, biting her lip, before tossing the dress back to him.
"Start a pile on the desk; things to move to the Tower."