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Now this is what I call a power choice.
Accurate, to be sure. From the first layer to the last, I would need the best armor for tonight. This evening marked the first celebration preluding Reaper’s Fest. Because Poet had a hand in arranging the festivities, he’d departed early to prepare, leaving the task of my outfit to me and the ladies.
“Dazzle me,” he’d instructed before sauntering from my suite.
I nibbled on my lower lip. For a start, the sheer briefs would do.
And in that regard, Eliot’s presence made no difference. Having grown up together, we’d seen one another stripped to the barest essentials several times before, during afternoons when we tried on various Spring costumes in private. Until Poet, my best friend had always been my one exception to every rule. Understandably, Eliot wasn’t interested in the specifics of my relations with the jester, but concealing my undergarments was no more necessary than in the company of these ladies.
Case in point, Posy wasn’t completely dressed yet because the conversation had distracted her. At length, the lady wiggled the chenille gown up her frame. The exquisite design hugged her curvy body, accentuating the lady’s hips to an enviable degree, and the chandelier poured light onto the floral tattoo germinating across her collarbone.
Kicking off the heels, Vale sashayed to her lover and fastened the neckline to Posy’s nape. In the floor-to-ceiling mirror’s reflection, Vale winked, and Posy blushed.
In tandem, their eyes swung to my reflection. “I suppose with Eliot’s restrictions, we’re not getting an answer to my original question?” Posy nudged. “Not even a peep?”
“No, you will not,” I confirmed.
“Not sorry,” Eliot replied, holding up his palms innocently.
“And for that, you’re going to hell,” Cadence ribbed.
Often, these ladies attempted to pry the wanton details from me. Most times, they failed. Yet occasionally, I acquiesced, wanting their feedback and companionship on matters of intimacy. Despite their teasing nature, I trusted them.
For Eliot’s part, he had long since recovered from his heartbreak over Poet. In The Lost Treehouses, my friend had reassured me of that. Therefore, I didn’t fret that his reactions were related to unrequited love. He was elated for me and Poet, and he wanted us to be happy.
Still, I would not make an exhibition of the situation. Most importantly, remembering the other night in the relic vault, I felt protective of that episode. Poet and I had just negotiated with Winter and staged our first appearance as a unit. Never had I interacted with the court while escorted by another man, and I hadn’t liked the feeling, nor what it did to Poet. However experienced the jester was in deception, I had seen beyond the veneer, as he’d seen beyond mine.
The relic vault had been our moment, and ours alone. I would not share the memory of that night with anyone. Just as I would not share the memories of Poet and me in the storm at the treehouse enclave, nor the way his tongue had consoled me in the shower after my allergy poisoning. Nor any of our pivotal sexual interludes since I reentered this castle, for that matter.
But I would hint. “We needed a respite.”
My friends sobered, reading into my words. They may have already gauged how the welcome feast for Winter had affected me and the jester.
Silence infested the wardrobe, with half of us dressed and the other half not there yet. Posy and Eliot were ready for tonight, but Vale had only made it to an underskirt and bandeau, Cadence sported a chemise, and I hadn’t yet removed my dressing robe.
“Fuck,” Eliot muttered. “Can someone please make a joke? Or at least a comment about the weather? We need a distraction.”
“I have a better idea,” Cadence replied. “How about we get our shit together and dress this princess to kill.”
“Sounds like a plan,” my friend said quietly. “A few ballads should relax the crowd, especially if it includes relevant Autumn history about a brief but pertinent era when the Seasons defined humanity differently.”
I nodded. “Good thinking.”
“Vale and I will take the upper nobles tonight,” Posy volunteered. “They need a little charm.”
“We’ll talk up you and Poet,” Vale expanded. “Commend you for winning over the prince.”
“I’ve got the council,” Cadence said while shrugging into a skin-tight strapless gown dyed in ruby. “After the fourth chalice, they’ll be eating out of my Spring hand and agreeing with me on how marvelously you’ve held up since your return.”
“If your goal is to woo the council, I’d suggest you don a turtleneck instead,” Eliot gibed.
Posy took the advice in earnest, her features stricken as she raised her hand. “For the record, I will never be doing that.”
We laughed. After a moment, Cadence sighed. “Too bad Jeryn of Winter eats from the same pig trough as Summer. No asshole should look that hot, much less wear a crown.” She twisted her gaze toward me. “We stand by the one who earns it.”
Posy and Vale nodded. Eliot’s features reflected loyalty as he gazed at me.
On impulse, I strode toward a cabinet displaying my everyday jewels. Remembering Cadence’s words during our journey to The Lost Treehouses, I fished out the belt she’d admired when I was in Spring. The lady gave a start as I strapped the belt around her middle and buckled the clasps, the ruby leaves sparkling around her waist and complimenting her dress to perfection.
