"The Match has arrived?—"
"Inform the Emperor?—“
"—her condition, look at her condition?—"
One grabbed her other arm as another touched her hair.A third was speaking directly into her face in accented English, something about protocols and timing, but the words blurred together into white noise.
"Hey!"She tried to pull back."Excuse me, I?—"
Nobody gave a flying rat's ass.They moved, and she was forced to move along with them, swept along like debris in a current.She craned her neck, looking for Raaevik, and found him a couple of steps behind.He stalked after her like a shadow, his violet eyes tracking every hand that touched her.
Good.At least the fanatic was consistent.
They herded her through a set of massive doors and down a corridor that seemed to stretch forever.The walls were inlaid with something that looked like mother-of-pearl, catching the light and fracturing it into rainbows.It would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been frog-marched through it like a prisoner.
There was another door and another room.
This one was smaller.Private.And packed with even more of the fussy, robed male attendants.
"In here, Your Grace."
The title made her blink.She opened her mouth to correct them, but hands were already pulling at her jacket.
"Wait!Stop?—“
They didn't wait.
The jacket came off.Then her shirt.Then everything else.
She stood frozen, stunned into immobility as strangers stripped her with the efficiency of a pit crew.Her brain couldn't catch up.Shit.This wasn't happening.This couldn't be happening.She was standing in a room full of alien men in her underwear, without so much as aby-your-leave.
"The fabric is unsuitable," one announced, holding up her pants like they were contaminated."Dispose of it."
“Hey!They’re mine!"she managed, but the bustle around her swallowed her voice.
"Unsanitary."
They peeled off her bra.Her underwear.
"Eep!"She squeaked as heat flooded her face, burning all the way to her hairline.She slapped her hands over her chest and groin, curling in on herself as her gaze shot toward the door.
Oh god.Raaevik.
He was right there.
But he wasn't looking.
The big warrior stood just inside the threshold, feet planted wide, arms crossed over that massive chest, staring fixedly at one of the ceiling panels.The leather of his jacket strained across a chest broad enough to land a dropship on.
He was guarding the room.But he was giving her the only thing these other men wouldn’t… Privacy.
The attendants tutted at her modesty, pulling at her hands.“Please, Your Grace.We must assess the canvas."
Canvas.She was just a freaking canvas to them.
They guided her into an adjoining room.A bath… no, not a bath.It was a damn pool.The water was warm and smelled of flowers she didn't recognize, sweet and cloying.She was all but shoved into the water, and myriad hands scrubbed at her skin with soft brushes.Fingers worked through her hair, untangling the curls that had become matted during her alley adventure.Something oily was massaged into her scalp, her shoulders, the small of her back.
She stood in the center of it all like a prize poodle being groomed, or… cargo being polished for delivery.
