Eleonora shimmered into view, the carriage lamps catching on skin, steel, and scandal. Her outdoor‑maid skirt swept low, yet the loose hem looked ready to rip away at a cruel tug. Her belt‑cinched waist flexed; the long skirt murmured over her boots in a hush of starched pleats. She'd swapped the usual blouse for a crisp suit shirt, its tails and the skirt both tucked into her belt.
The mash‑up looked eccentric, exactly as she intended. Mia had balked at first, saying it mirrored Jett's own clothes, so Eleonora compromised on a black suit shirt that matched the maid dress's darker tones.
With a sword hanging at her hip, she resembled a knight‑maid, a striking counterpoint to Noctlisa.
As much as this situation won't let me soak it in the way I'd like… Jett raked his gaze over Eleonora from head to toe. She's gorgeous! Jett's pulse thumped in his ears—the same cadence the carriage wheels had kept, only faster, rougher.
