CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Calista
“Istill don’t understand what the big deal is. They’re shorts. I wear them all the time.”
Jessandra veered right after we crossed the drawbridge and continued along the road that ran parallel to the castle wall.
“This is what people wear. It’s what I wear.” I skimmed over her militant garb. “He can’t expect me to wear ball gowns all day. Or dress like you.”
Her gaze flicked my way.
“I mean, what was the point of bringing my things here if I can’t even use them?”
She remained silent while I followed and conversed with myself. Along the way, fuzziness grew in my peripheral, making the world appear softer than normal. I slowed down and blinkedmy eyes. It continued to take over my vision as if a veil-like curtain dropped in front of me. The sky looked a shade brighter, more pink than usual, and the city street we traveled didn’t seem as gritty and destitute as I remembered. I shook my head to clear my vision. All I accomplished was dizziness and my hair falling in my face and sticking to my cheek.
I tucked the now golden strands behind my ears and scrubbed at my cheek. Astaroth had tried to wipe it away, but his touch was more of an electrifying caress. My stomach fluttered nervously. No, that was just the sweets settling in my empty stomach. The image of his smile shoved out of my mind when I saw a goblin sweeping their porch with a tiny broom. Another leaned out their window and poured a bucket of liquid over the sill. It splattered when it hit the cobblestones. And another banged away on something. I felt like I was in a fairytale cartoon.
“Good morning!” I grinned and waved at them.
They startled when I called out, the one goblin dropping their bucket to the ground. The wood split when it hit, breaking into several pieces and shooting in different directions.
“Good, is it?” They shouted. “That was me only good shit pot!”
I cringed at the puddle of excrement seeping between the bricks. Why did they dump it in the street? The castle kind of had plumbing, why didn’t they?
The other goblins watched our exchange and glowered at me as they clutched their meager tools to their chests.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll get you—”
A hand clamped over my mouth. “You’ll do no such thing,” Jessandra stated. “And do not apologize. An apology is a debt owed.”
I pulled her hand down. “I thought a thank—”
She covered my mouth again. “For Roth’s sake. Do not say that either.”
“I’m not saying it, I’m clarifying,” I mumbled behind her palm.
She dropped her arm and turned a stern face to the goblins waiting for me to screw up. “Go about your business.”
They grumbled and shuffled away.
“Rule number one.”
I huffed. “I know. Never thank anyone.”
Her nostrils flared. “Rule number two. Never apologize. Ever. It’s worse than rule number one.”
My brain worked so hard my brow wrinkled. “That doesn’t make any sense. If it’s worse than the first, shouldn’t it be rule number one? And why is apologizing so bad?”
Jessandra tilted her chin up, seeming even taller. “When you apologize, you take culpability for things that are out of your control. For instance, did you drop the shit pot?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. I’d never touch that.”
“Precisely.”
“But—”
“No. It was not your fault. And if you take responsibility for everything that goes wrong around you, every snollygoster here will find a way to make you pay them for something. And not all of them will want what they originally had.”
