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That’s the thing about facts. You can see something a thousand times and never think much of it, but the moment someone gives you a fact, it’s as though your eyes are no longer seeing randomness. Patterns emerge, and… it fully changes your perception.
Too caught up in my head, I don’t bother inspecting the dress Morgana—my half sister—holds out. I just nod and take it from her outstretched hand.
“Okay,” I agree.
When Lupa and Morgana follow me to the lavish changing room, each carrying a dozen or so outfits to try, I feel even more like a fish out of water. Is it normal that we’re trying clothes on together? In the same room? Not wanting to appear even more socially inept, I keep my mouth shut.
Lupa links her arm with mine and the jig is up when she whispers, “There are three changing screens in here, so we can hide behind those. Or if you’re really uncomfortable, I can make something up and we can get a room each.”
I smile gratefully at the Roman Heiress and shake my head. “It’s fine, I think.” I push my shoulders slightly back in an attempt at looking more confident than I feel. “Thank you though,” I add, genuinely thankful for the out she’s offering me.
It’s sweet and I’m definitely appreciative, but I’m no quitter. Now that I know I have gaps in this area, I want to work on it. No one likes knowing they have shortcomings, and for me, it’s downright bothersome. I don’t expect to be perfect, or the best at everything. But I won’t allow myself to back down without at least trying. That’s not how I was raised, and it’s not how I want to live my life.
Morgana is half out of her clothes when there’s a knock on the door. With a huff, she hides behind one of the changing screens before I open the door to the store employee on the other side. She quickly rolls her cart in and pours champagne into three glasses. Lifting the silver dome, she reveals chocolate and fresh fruit.
“There are three tablets on the table,” she says, gesturing towards the white table she’s referring to. “If you want anything brought to you, or have questions, you can message us directly through that. We’re here to serve you,” she says, looking between us.
When we arrived, the staff had a room set up for us where we were meant to sit and have models showcase the clothes for us. However, Morgana quickly squashed that idea. She wanted to walk around the store herself—insisting that was the only reason it was worth going out.
Until I went to Hammil’s myself, I haven’t really been in a store, and I’ve definitely never walked around like we have today. After trying the Morgana way, I can say with absolute certainty that I prefer this way. There’s something nice about walking amongst the fabric, touching it and holding it up to see if it’s even worth trying on.
“Thank you, but I think we prefer to find what we want ourselves,” I say. Lupa and Morgana quickly murmur their agreement, and the woman leaves us alone.
When Morgana comes out from behind the screen, she’s wearing an ice-blue silk dress that almost perfectly matches her eyes. The dress reaches her mid-thigh, and it clings to her curvaceous figure like a second skin. Where the front is modest and only hinting at her generous cleavage, the back is completely open. The shade of the dress enhances the color of her skin. She isn’t as dark as me or Lupa, but she’s darker than her twin—who isn’t really her twin.
Shit… it’s all so messed up.
“Wow,” I gasp, unable to take my eyes off her. The dress looks like it was made for her, and maybe it was. After all, they knew we were coming.
“You look amazing,” Lupa coos, greedily drinking her girlfriend in. The appreciation on both their faces is impossible to ignore, and I swallow back a knowing smile.
Morgana wraps her arms around Lupa and returns the compliment before fusing their lips together.
With a smile, I move to stand in front of the door so no one can suddenly barge in. I keep my back on the two women, a small way to give them some privacy without leaving the changing room.
When we entered, we all scanned the room with the small detectors from my family’s Enterprise that I’ve gifted them. It’s a habit that’s engrained to always make sure we have privacy. Since we’re literally stripping in here, I would probably have done it anyway, but I hate that Lupa and Morgana have to do it before they can even hold hands. I can’t even fathom how hard it must be for them to have to sneak around like that, and I hate that they have to.
While the Kronos Society is modernized in some parts of its structure, I keep coming back to all the ways it’s hopelessly dated and set in the old ways. Men loving men and women loving women aren’t the only parts that need to change. The Leaders really shouldn’t have a say in what their Heirs or Protégés wear.
I know that their clothing is a small—almost inconsequential—thing compared to hiding their love. But I can’t just change the rules overnight. But maybe I can…
“How is it to have Arthur as your Leader?” I ask Morgana.
Lupa giggles and Morgana huffs in frustration. “It’s… interesting.” She sighs dramatically, and since I’m still not facing them, I have to imagine her eyes rolling. “He’s… he’s kinder than our dad was.” I cringe as she says ‘our dad’.
Fuck, I hate that I know Uther wasn’t her biological dad. It’s a secret I have no business knowing before she does.
“Don’t mind her,” Lupa says, laughter palpable in her voice. “Morgana is annoyed because she feels Arthur is trying to meddle in her business. He wants her to compete in the Heir Tournament, and he keeps—”
Morgana interrupts her girlfriend. “I can speak for myself,” she says, but there’s no bite in her words. “It’s weird. He suddenly wants us to talk and do things again like we used to. It’s almost like he wants to keep me away from Lupa.”
I furrow my brows. That doesn’t sound like the Arthur I once thought I knew… but I could be wrong.
“Why do you think he wants to keep you apart?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Is it something he said?” I make a mental note to talk with Kai if Arthur is showing even the smallest hint of homophobia.
Morgana quickly explains that she doesn’t actually believe that he’s trying to keep them apart. “It just feels like that since it’s always when I’m going to see Lupa that he wants to spend time together. Then again, I’m pretty much always seeing Lupa, so I guess I can’t hold that against him.”
I laugh before I remind Morgana of one of the girls that used to be at the cotillions. She was adamant she was gay, and she had the biggest crush on Morgana. Yet Arthur did nothing to keep the girl—whose name I can’t remember—away.
