by Rebecca Grey
Sounding like a wind chime on a particularly gusty day, I shimmied over toward the long mirror that leaned against the wall. The gown was beautiful. But it would look better once I zipped it up. I grinned at myself in the mirror. Contorting my arms, I worked up a sweat pulling the fabric back together and twisting this way and that to work the zipper back.
I relaxed my shoulders with a steady exhale, finally in the dress. I turned, sending dots of light shining over the walls of my room. The dress was magic, utter magic. Somehow it had turned my lean, nearly-flat physique into the curves of a rich, well-fed woman. My hands slid from the small of my waist over the curve of my hips. My attention following the red gown to where it draped over my feet on the floor. This is what it must feel like to be beautiful.
Two rapid knocks at my door drew me from the fantasy I was building inside my head. Every bead clinked loudly as I twisted toward the noise, my face losing all color.
“Ryker?” Dace’s voice called. “Are you in there?”
“Yeah… Yes,” I stuttered, reaching behind me to find the zipper. The tips of my fingers swiped near the zipper but couldn’t quite reach it. I’d just zipped it moments before. Come on.
“May I come in?” his beautiful, dulcet voice asked in a confident tone.
No. I wanted to shout as I arched and curved my back while my arms twisted in every odd angle I swore I had tried successfully before. Why couldn’t I reach this damn zipper?
“Just a minute, I’m changing.”
It was all I could manage, and it sounded more like a question than an answer to his. Dace was waiting outside my door for me, and every minute it took to try and pull this dress off me made the lingering silence between us feel more awkward. Even if I couldn’t see him.
“Are you alright in there? Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” he laughed, after a few more minutes passed.
I whined to myself, frowning at the heat in my cheeks as I tried and failed to snag the one thing that could get this gown off my body. “I’m fine! I’m fine,” I tried again to sound more sure about my answer. But every single attempt was failing and I could live in this gown or make the prince (oops, not prince) wait outside my door forever.
Shit. I needed help.
I wondered what Dace thought of the noise the gown made as I kicked at the trailing fabric on my way toward him. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stuck just my head out. Dace tilted his head and gave me a questioning look, but I ignored him. The hall around him appeared empty, no wandering, gossipy nymphs to spread the word that I was about to snatch him into my room.
The silky, half-buttoned, mint-blue shirt on his chest bunched in my fist. Dace’s mouth fell open as I yanked him into my room and slammed the door closed behind him.
“Woah,” he laughed, holding his hands up. Then his jaw quickly clamped shut and his eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat taking in everything that was the, far too revealing, dress I wore. “I feel like I may be underdressed. What’s the occasion?” he finally said.
This is so embarrassing, I cried internally. Suddenly, I was extremely aware of how much upper and side cleavage I had showing. Plus, now I was going to have to confess to being that stupid girl who wanted to wear stupid, fancy dresses when I was so clearly not that girl.
“I tried it because I thought it was pretty. And now I can’t reach the zipper on my own. It’s stuck,” I whispered like someone was spying on us, as if me wearing this dress was something of significance.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The dress is stuck. On me,” I hissed again stepping closer to him.
He leaned down, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, “I don’t understand.”
“I tried the damn dress on because I wanted to feel pretty, and now I’m stuck in this damn thing,” I shouted, my hands rushing to my cheeks to cover the way they burned crimson under his amused gaze.
He licked his lips, then smirked. “Are you asking me to undress you?”
“No,” I paused. “No.”
But wasn’t I? This had been a foolish idea. I should have just greeted him and fed him some load of bullshit about me getting ready to wander off for some sort of royal meeting that there wasn’t any possibility of. A ball. I should have told him we were throwing a ball. Damn, any lie would have been better than the truth.
“I just need help with the zipper,” I finally frowned, dropping my hands and playing with the dripping crystals.
“All you had to do was ask.”
He straightened the cuffs on his sleeves like this was an everyday thing. He probably had helped many girls out of their gowns over the years. The thought sent a sliver of want straight between my legs and a pang of unwanted jealousy clenched my heart. But I didn’t want to be just one of those girls.
My tangled hair had fallen over my shoulders, covering the top of the dress. Quietly, I pulled the strands to the side and offered him my back. His breath hitched and I felt it drift over my skin. His fingers brushed just above the zipper before he tugged it down. With both arms, I clung to the top of the dress.
Dace cleared his throat and stepped away. “Would you like me to leave the room again?”
“Turning around will suffice.” Holding the gown to my body did at least one thing, it hid how much my hands were actually trembling.
“Alright,” he raised his eyebrows attempting to suppress his smile, not well I might add.
With his back turned to me, I waved an arm back and forth in the air, the other holding the gown as I shimmied. The dress made a little noise as I did my lunatic dance to ensure he wasn’t looking. When he didn’t laugh, I took a deep breath and dropped the dress.
My whole body stretched as I lunged for the clothes I'd kicked aside. Holding the material, I turned back to watch him as I slipped into the items. Better make sure he wasn’t trying to sneak a peek. What would you do if he did, Ryker? The scandalous part of my brain, run strictly by hormones, performed a sexy dance that would seduce him. Though the more prominent part of my brain, the one riddled with the crippling fear of being overpowered, screamed in terror and clutched the clothing to my body like a child with a useless rag doll.
“So, uh, what are you stopping by for?” I asked, buttoning my shirt.
Dace tilted his head back and forth, keeping his back turned. “You mean other than to save you from the restraints of that dress?”
“Clearly.”
“I just wanted to express my gratitude and maybe offer my assistance.”
Fully dressed, I firmly placed my hands against my hips, already feeling less curvaceous outside of that fancy gown, and stared at his back. His shirt was thin enough, and damn near sheer enough, that I could make out the muscles in his shoulders. Dace sure liked to show off his muscular upper body. Not that I’m complaining. I shrugged to myself.
“Yes. Keep talking,” I urged.
“You’ve really taken charge of this place. The nymphs here look up to you as a leader and you welcomed us, me, here without question. I’m sure I’m speaking for Shavarra as well when I tell you how much this means to everyone from the refuge.” He turned his head to the side, his eyes scanning his periphery to get a glance at me.
“Hey! You’re looking at me!” I pointed.
“You’re dressed,” his easy laughter filled the air, as he turned back to face me. “Were you just going to have me face away from you the entire time we had a conversation? Is my face not pretty enough for you?” His polished loafers took a step closer.
“The view from the back wasn’t so bad.” I blinked at the words that escaped my mouth faster than I could tame my tongue. My cheeks burned as another blush bloomed on my face. Why did that always happen to me when he was near? Curse that not prince for influencing me with his beauty.
Dace smiled, unfazed. He managed another step forward before my nervous habit of running away kicked in, and I scooped up the gown from the floor, moving to the wardrobe to hang it.
“Speaking of
Shavarra, you seemed rather worried about her when you arrived. You must be pretty close. Tell me about her.” I looked between the gown and the hanger. How did this hang so nicely before? It had no sleeves.
“I met her in a bar, during a game of cards. Don’t ask her to play unless you want to lose. Speaking from experience, it doesn’t go well. She was different from the other girls at the bar. She wasn’t swooning on the arm of the man she thought would win, or drunkenly dancing to the band. She was there making money and she introduced me to a few of her friends. All traveling nymphs that had stopped in Caratona on their way through to visit. Her love for them was so deep, it didn’t feel right not to tell her about my dreams of the Day of Ruin. She’s the one who really hatched the plan for the refuge. I was just the means to do it.”
I kept my back turned, fiddling with the dress and the hanger as a means for distraction. Dace did think rather highly of Shavarra. Even near death, as she had been when she arrived, she was stunningly beautiful. She had the curves that I envied so much.
Annoyed, I exhaled loudly and slung the dress sloppily on the hanger. I pushed at the other gowns, shoving them apart to make room for the messily hung dress I tried on. Dace’s hand slipped against the dress on the other side, taking the hanger from my hand and slipping it back onto the rod.
Piercing blue eyes stared down at me, watching me expectantly. I should have said thank you but instead I blurted, “Are you lovers?”
SEVEN
Milo
Time does not fly when you are staring at a horse's ass.
My eyes had grown tired of squinting into the sun as it was beginning to set. Every hair in my nose had practically burned away with the rancid smell of the horse's shit as we traveled. What did they feed this thing before we left?
Red laid across the wooden boards behind me, still and quiet. She'd been laying that way for a while, so I assumed she was using her time more pleasantly than I was and was taking a little nap. Gods above I wished I could take a nap instead of steering this horse. But we were coming to a small town inside the Acture Court. Here I would take a much needed break from the travel.
Horse hooves and creaking wagon wheels, drew Red’s attention. She sat up, watching as local traffic passed, uncaring of our presence. I glanced back at her. Sleep was still evident in her eyes as she squinted and looked around. It was hard not to wonder if she had risen to glare at her surroundings, assuming we had finally arrived at Windre’s castle. Not quite yet, Red. Not quite yet.
Pulling on the reins, I slowed and steered our horse-drawn cart to the side of the road. A tall building with green shutters and a freshly painted sign that read ‘Cassie’s Tavern’ waited. Hopefully with something good to drink and a warm meal. I didn’t even want to look at the cabbage soup we had packed or eat one more cold sandwich. What I wanted was a steak. My stomach growled in agreement.
“Well sugar-puss, you want to hop out of that wagon or shall I fetch you myself?” I jumped to the ground, watching her with impatience while my foot tapped in the dirt.
“Where are we?” her scowl deepened, but she scooted herself to the edge of the cart and looked around.
“Some podunk stop on our way to Loutone. I fancy a warm meal. My treat.” I lifted my eyebrows, but didn’t give her any more time to question our stop as I grabbed the extra length of chain that connected her wrists to her ankles.
My eyes lingered on the raw, red skin under the cuffs. That was her fault. She could have had a mostly chain-free ride if she hadn’t tried to act a fool. I guided her forward and through the carefully painted green door of the tavern.
The rich aroma of warm cooked meals greeted us pleasantly as we stepped in. The tables looked clean and full of enough patrons to tell me that this place had been worth the stop. Behind the bar, a short fae with shoulder-length red hair gave us a small wave. Her face was so youthful, I had to do a double take. Was this fae even old enough to be working behind a bar? She looked like she was only ten years old.
The chains rustled noisily between me and Red as I approached the bar. A few lingering eyes stopped to stare at my nymph. Red stared right back at them until they eventually looked away. She was a stubborn, headstrong girl.
“Excuse me, miss, can I speak to your mother?” I glanced back and forth behind the bar, waiting for someone who wasn’t a child to serve me.
The red-haired child rolled her eyes, “This is my bar. How can I help you?”
“Cut the crap,” I shot back with a look of disbelief.
“I’m nearing my eightieth birthday. My stilling happened when I was twelve. So you can either quit staring at me like I’m an attraction in a traveling circus and order, or you can turn around and quit wasting my time.”
Red chuckled behind me. I gave her a hard yank, making her stumble, to shut her up.
“I need two orders of steak with whatever vegetables you have handy and, uh, what do you recommend to drink?”
The girl pointed down to the yellow ale most of the men were drinking at the bar, “I reckon our beer is good enough. Most popular drink on the menu.”
My head felt dizzy and my stomach churned at the thought of another night drinking that terrible brew ever again. “No. No. I’ve found that I don’t enjoy that. It’s bitter,” I scrunched up my nose.
“Hmmm,” she nodded, thinking. “You know what, take a seat. I think I know what to get ya.”
“Would you look at that?” I turned around, giving Red a big fake smile I knew wasn’t reaching my eyes. “Lady can read minds. Why don’t we go find a seat and see what she brings us?”
Red didn’t respond. I didn’t expect her to. But she did openly roll her eyes as she kicked her chains in front of her. There were plenty of seats to choose from between the already filled tables. Booths under large lamps that left little room for hiding. A thought that made me both thankful and nervous.
“Here,” I pointed to the wooden seat.
The smell of the pine cleaner they used on the tables lingered on the wood. Every inch was sanded to smooth away splinters. A basket of warm bread already sat waiting on every table for the dinner rush. Carefully, I slipped into the seat across from her and let the long chain drape between us on the table.
“Do you wonder why you don’t see any nymphs here?” Red pushed her chin forward to indicate the rest of the room.
“Because people don’t normally take slaves out to dinner? Is this a joke?”
I flicked the thin layer of material that kept the flies from the food off the bread and plucked a roll from the basket. Warm, soft, and buttery, the bread made me excited for the rest of the meal. This was good.
“But don’t they make them carry their shopping bags?”
I followed her gaze to a couple who chatted away while they picked at their meals, bags from their evening shopping sitting near their feet.
“Don’t they make nymphs watch their horses or work in their kitchens, or hold their fucking umbrellas to shield their precious fucking faces from the sun?” she snarled quietly through clenched teeth, like I just wasn't getting something. “I didn’t see any outside either. How am I the only one?”
She was right. There hadn’t been any outside assisting their masters. From what I could see around the half swinging doors to the kitchen, it was all fae working back there too. But I didn’t have time to question it further in private before the owner swept back through holding two pink drinks.
“One for each of you. Your food will be out in a minute. Why don’t you give it a sip and tell me what you think? I can bring you something else if it doesn’t please you. But I think it will.”
I examined the short, fat cup with the long stem. Pink liquid with a dark to light gradient, and something floating in a layer along the top, with bubbles that didn’t seem to pop. I sniffed it, pleasantly surprised by the fruity smell.
“What’s in the layer at the top?” I asked. Intrigued, I swirled the liquid in the cup.
“Candy,” she smiled, slipping
her hands into the apron pockets.
Red's bored gaze traveled between me and the cup. She was probably hoping that the cup was poisoned so she wouldn’t have to meet her fate with Windre.
Surprised at how good the sweet flavor sounded right now, I lifted my cup toward Red in salute and brought it to my lips. Creamy, carbonated liquid, flavored like a strawberry pie slipped past my lips and filled my mouth. I swished it around taking in the delicious flavor. This was beyond better than that nasty yellow ale the men seemed to enjoy. I swallowed gulp after gulp, until the cup was empty.
There hadn’t even been time for sweat to form a ring on the table before I was setting it back down, completely empty. Honestly, I’d assume by the freshness of its taste that it lacked what caused that terrible feeling I had the next day.
“I’ll take another.” I glanced at Red, “Drink up.”
The owner nodded with a polite bow, scooped my cup up, and gave Red a questioning look. It made me pause to think that maybe Red was right. Maybe there weren’t any nymphs here.
“Excuse me, before you go, can you tell me why I don’t see any nymphs around these parts?”
She stopped, holding my empty cup with both hands, and squinted, “You must be from another court. Heathern if I’d have to guess by your warm complexion. Windre does not allow common folk to keep nymphs. Only those in his court or someone with money rich enough to buy one from him.”
“I’m not sure if that's a good or a bad thing,” Red mumbled.
“Good for the nymphs, bad for me. I’ve got to pay the staff in my kitchen to work.” She shrugged and headed back behind the bar.
Red watched the bubbles in her drink slowly rise to the top. She stared at it so hard I wondered if she had completely sunken into the deep recesses of her mind. Until she picked the cup up and took a tentative sip.