Remembering all the glorious details about last night, I grin as I pass it.Astep later, I’mhit hard with hindsight and regret: the slipisthe only thing Ihaveto wear.AndI used it as a rag last night, wiping all the cum off my face.
I wrinkle my nose.It’sgoing to be dried and crusty now.Scratchy and gross.Yet, what else do I have to wear?
My eyes linger on my wedding dress.Nope.Out of the two of them, the cum-covered slipisstill the prettier option.Nicholas’ taste reallyisawful.
After washing up in the bathroom, I tug on the slip andtrymy best to ignore all the parts where itstickstogether.It’s not like I lefthisstudy very sneakily.Crusty clothes or not, everyonealready knows.And if I’mbeing honest, a part of me likesthem knowing.
Back off, people.He’s mine.
I grin as I open the door of the suite.
“Gods, you look awful,” Ajaxsaysas he bargesin before I can step out.“I hope this isn’t your default setting.”
My mouth dropsopen as Iturn to followhim.“What are you doing?I’m about to go see Richard.”
His lips pursed, he looksme up and down.“To do what?Ask for payment for your services?”He shakes his head, thesilverhair that hangs to hiswaistswaying back and forth.“No, that can’t be it.Even prostitutes have better style than” –he wavesaringedhand at me– “whatever this is.”
“Hey!I’m –” My attentionissnagged by a young girl wheeling a full-length mirrorin front of herand a railing of clothesbehind her.She settles both ofthem in the middle ofmyroom, causing me to groan.
“Please tell me I only have to try on one thing.I have to get home today to… uh, pick up some belongings.”Thatisn’ttechnically a lie.Waspsaresort of belongings – if anyonecanreally own a ball of angry, violent, do-their-own-thing fluff.Thatdoesn’tlisten to a word yousay, ever.
“If it’s the right thing, then yes.”Ajax turnsto the girl.“Ella, step aside and let her choose.We’ll see what her taste is and go from there.”He purseshis lips.“She can’t exactly choose worse.”
“Hey!The dress I wore to my mum’s weddingwas pretty.I just took it offbecause it was too restricting.”
“Well, luckily, everythingwe’ve broughtis designed for ease of movement because restrictions can get you killed.”He flicksthrough the rack and grabsa purple jumpsuit.“For instance, this.The legs are loose, allowing full kicks to the face.The skirt is reinforced woven spider thread, making it virtually stab proof.The belt has a wire underline, allowing it to be used as a garrotte should the need arise.”Pullingit out, he wrapsit around his throat.
I cringe, deciding against this piece immediately.
“The cape sleeve is brilliant for hiding your knives and otherweapons, and most importantly,” hesays, digging his hand into the trousers, “it has pockets.”
I force a smile.“Well, uh, it’s very pretty, and I really love that it has pockets, but is there anything that’s less… lethal?”
Ajaxblinks.Then shrugs.“I guess you don’t need any weaponised clothing given you’ll always have a guard on you.And you know, the whole, being executed thing.”He nodsas he rummagesthrough the rack again.“It’ll probably be kinder to let someone kill you now.”
“Oh, no,” I assure him.“I’m not being executed.”
He glancesat me over his shoulder, a dry look in his eyes.“King Morningstar doesn’t share anything, sweetie, least of all his crown.You can ask his sister that.Wait, no, you can’t becauseshe’sdead.”Grabbing a short black dress with silver embroidery crawling across its hem, heholdsit up to me.“This has concealment straps for about a dozen weapons but nothing built in.”
Ishakemy head, still stuck on the whole ‘I might be executed thing’.“But Richard said if I married him, they’d stop the execution.”
“Did he?Because our king is many things, but he’s not a liar.The Court decides executions, not him.”
“But, he –” I trail off, realising henever actually said I wouldn’t be killed.He said I wouldn’t be tortured.
My breathcatches.
My mindscreams.
The mother flippin’.
Frecken’.
Bloody.
Poopface.
No.I hesitate, a pressure building in my chest.A good brownie never curses.But…
