You Are Mine

by Janeal Falor

  “I'm grateful you liked it and the Envadi didn't punish you for it.”

  “I am wondering,” I begin to ask, but then pause. Am I really brave enough to do it?

  “What is it?”

  “I'd like a new dress. But the only money I have is what is left over from before.” Technically the Chancellor's, not mine, but he hasn't asked for it.

  “What type of dress were you thinking of?”

  Somewhere a clock chimes. I fuss with my sleeve. This is more rule breaking, and asking her to break it, as well. “An everyday dress but more like what you made for the ceremony. Something I could get in and out of myself and not have to rely on Phyllis.”

  She grins. “I'll do it, and you don't need to pay me for it.”

  “I must give you something for it.”

  “I'm not taking the little money you have for such a request. What about something like what I'm wearing, though altered for society.”

  I take in her clothes. A burgundy blouse tucked into a deep violet skirt. They have minimal adornment, just a few buttons down the front.

  “I do like the simpler design. Less fanciful is more to my taste. Mother would never hear of it, but the Chancellor shouldn't care.” Unless his punishment with my newest sister is an indication of how things are going to be. But I think I'm willing to risk it.

  “I wasn't referring to the embellishments.”

  “What then? The two-piece?” A laugh escapes me. When her face stays earnest, I stop. “You can't mean it.”

  “You don't have to.”

  I spring from my chair and pace in front of the fireplace. “A two piece? Do you know what that would mean?”

  She moves in front of me. After grabbing both of my hands in hers, she looks me in the eye. “I know. We would start out subtly. Make them the same color. And fancy them up. You may like simple, but this is too simple for the company you'll be keeping.

  “I'd tailor them to look closer to a one piece and put false buttons on the back so it would still look like you needed help. If you're never comfortable, we wouldn't do anything further. But if you like it and no one rejects it, we could maybe try for something else.”

  Tarnished clothes. She wants me running around dressed as a tarnished. If I haven't doomed myself to be banned yet, this certainly would get me there. Society would shun me. Yet, I did want something better suited to my difficulties with Phyllis. Dressing such seems like going too far. It is going too far. But her gaze is so earnest. Would I like wearing a two piece?

  “Why do you want me to dress like that?” I ask.

  Her eyes squeeze shut. “Don't you ever tire of wearing what others demand of you?” She opens them and I can't help but think how right she is. I'm so tired of it. “Plus, you're a Chancellor's bride. If you happen to mention where your new, fashionable gowns come from, it could mean more business for me.”

  I laugh, draining some of the tension. “So, even if you don't accept payment, it's still about the money.”

  “Money does help. I can't survive on my own without it.” Heading back to her chair, she says, “What do you think?”

  “I don't know. It's like what I wanted, but a lot more. I've never done anything like this.”

  “The engagement dress I made was a much bigger step than this.”

  “That doesn't count. The other options were worse than wearing my underthings.”

  “And you liked not having to do that, right?”

  I sink into my chair. “That's true.”

  “And how could more freedom with your clothes be bad? Freedom not just for one day, but any day you want it.”

  “I suppose it wouldn't be all bad.” My gloves suddenly feel oppressive. One by one I pull at the fingers and discard them on the arm of the chair. “What I'd really like freedom from is my life.” Did I really blurt that out? Surprisingly I find myself meaning it, but still. To say it out loud? Is freedom even an option?

  Katherine goes still. “Would you escape if someone helped you?”

  “There's no escape when your fiance is a warlock.” Of course it isn't an option. A bitter laugh escapes me. “I suppose in contrast, a little wardrobe change isn't so dreadful.”

  “Good. I have the perfect outfit. I'll adjust it and have it sent. May I stop by next week?”

  “Of course. Perhaps Cynthia can join us. I'd like for the two of you to meet.”

  “And I'd like to meet your sister.” She stands.

  “Would you mind coming on a council day? The Chancellor would be gone then, though I don't know when it will be.”

  “I'll figure it out, and come when he'll be away.”

  “Hopefully, I'll see you soon then.”

  ***

  Two days later, I stare at the package Katherine sent. I should ring for Phyllis to help me dress, but instead pick up the package. It feels heavier than it really is, as if the weight of my trying to gain more freedom in clothing is weighing it down. Not having to bother with Phyllis will be better than any consequences this new outfit could bring.

  Chancellor Zade sent a note with breakfast saying he has a gift for me, and wanted to see me in the study. The last, and only, gifts I received were horrid. Despite possibly causing more problems, the dress helps me feel more confident. Will he like it? Hate it? Punish me over it? Or just ignore it? Pushing away my misgivings, I focus on the package.

  The strings come undone easily. Beneath the wrappings are a charcoal colored blouse and skirt. I hold them up. Buttons line the front and back, though on closer inspection, only the ones on the front are workable. It's embroidered with a darker shade of thread. Tasteful, but not overdone. Other than being two pieces, it's too elaborate to be a tarnished ensemble.

  I like it, but I don't know if I can wear it. The thought of getting dressed myself encourages me to try. I step into the skirt and put the blouse on, button it, and place the belt over it like the instructions suggest. It's easier than I expect. Almost like helping my sisters, but on myself.

  The mirror beckons me. I hesitate a moment, then stride to it. The outfit looks good. Really good. I can't believe how much I like it. The blouse is elbow length and has matching gloves. A thick black belt is over the top of the skirt and blouse making it appear that I'm wearing a one piece with the top puffed out. The belt seems masculine, but holds a certain appeal. The material is soft as I brush it with my fingers. The front buttons are appealing rather than confining. They're the size of a strawberry, and spaced apart with fabric covering them instead of tiny ones clustered together. But is it acceptable?

  I adjust the belt, though it was perfectly fine, and head for the study. I pause just outside it. When will I learn to take problems on at full force? Not today. I can't bring myself to touch the knob.

  “You can go in.” I jump at Chancellor Zade's voice. “It's all right.”

  I put a hand to my chest. “I thought you were in there.”

  “No, I was taking care of a few things.”

  He brushes against me to open the door. “Go on in and pick a seat.”

  I walk past him, aware of our close proximity. The maroon chair was unlucky for me last time, so I pick the sofa. No word about the dress. Maybe he didn't notice, or even better, is ignoring it.

  Chancellor Zade opts to sit next to me. Why is he getting so close? The memory of Thomas attacking me surfaces. I inch away from him, ready to defend myself if needed.

  “Serena, my family learned that I'm getting married and wants to meet you.” The thought of having to meet another warlock isn't as bad as being attacked, but not something I'm eager to do. “They can't come now, so they sent a gift instead.”

  I won't have to meet them then. Realizing this, I want to relax, but the threat of a gift still hangs over me.

  “They are sending a lady's maid. She should be here next week.”

  Another living gift? His family wants to spy on me, as well. I force my expression to remain pleasant. How am I to handle two spies? Three if you count Cynthia.
<
br />   A thought hits me. “Wait, what's a lady's maid?”

  “She'll basically do what Phyllis has been doing. It's what we call them in Envado.”

  “What will happen to Phyllis?”

  “I'll send her to the kitchens with a note of apology to your Father. We can't refuse a gift from my family, it would be rude, and you've been able to use Phyllis for a little while at least. Unless you'd like to keep her?”

  Keep her? I'm ready to load her in a carriage. “No, that will be fine.”

  Chancellor Zade shifts toward me. Closer than he's been since my branding. “I think it's important to tell you, that while Waverly's condition of being here is a gift, she agreed to it and will be paid for her services.”

  “She's not working off a debt then?”

  “No debt.”

  “That's different. It's—” How do I feel about this? I suppose it's rather like paying Katherine for making a dress. What if I could work to pay her? Have my own money? Silently, I laugh. An engaged woman never works. Only singles and tarnished. And a woman like me isn't supposed to have money. “It's good.”

  Chancellor Zade relaxes against the sofa. “I was hoping you'd think so. She won't pose the same problems as Phyllis.”

  That isn't certain. “A warlock could still make her do or say what he wanted.”

  “She's an Envadi. Things are different for her than they are for you.”

  “But if a warlock casts a spell upon her, she wouldn't have a choice.”

  He takes my hand. It's big and strong. It's harder to think with him touching me, even through a glove. I don't know if I want him to let me go or take hold of my other hand, as well. “Don't worry about it. Like I said, she's different. She can take care of herself.”

  No woman can do that. The Chancellor wraps his other hand around ours. “You can trust her. With anything.”

  “Except things I want to keep from you.” After the words leave my mouth, I flinch. I want to go back in time and clamp my lips shut. Stop those words from escaping. But it's too late.

  He raises an eyebrow. “You have secrets you want to keep from me?”

  I swallow.

  He gives my hand a squeeze. “I have secrets, too. We all do. I give you my word she's trustworthy and that I have not and will not force her to reveal anything to me you haven't given her permission to do so.”

  I hold his gaze. My throat tightens.

  “I know you won't be comfortable with it, but you can trust her,” Chancellor Zade says. He looks at the clock. “Phyllis will be coming by soon.” He squirms. “There's one favor I, uh, wanted to ask of you.”

  I cock my head toward him, curious about his change in behavior and wondering what he could possibly ask of me.

  “It seems that most engaged men are more, uh, amorous with their future wives. I haven't wanted to—I don't want—” He glances away before looking me straight in the eye. “Phyllis reports to your Father. I wondered if we might show her something favorable to report.”

  “What type of something?”

  “I'd like to be kissing you when she comes in.”

  This is wrong. He's sort of doing what I first suspected, but not even close to how I suspected it. “Why are you asking? Warlocks always take what they want.”

  A light pink fills his cheeks. Is he—? He's blushing. It's strange for him to have the bit of color. I didn't know men could do that.

  “Envadi aren't as aggressive with their kisses.”

  I realize my hand is still in his. It's warm. Too warm. I withdraw. “I see.” I fold my arms then unfold them and place them in my lap. “Why did you want to leave this impression again?”

  He pulls at the cuff of his sleeve. “It seems word has gotten around that instead of harming your virtue like everyone thought, I've been too cold and distant. They're saying you should be taken away from me and given to another.”

  “And this is a problem?”

  “They only way they can legally do it, is if I'm dead.”

  “Oh.” Why does he not force his kisses upon me then? I still don't understand. But I'm sure I don't want to go back to Father's house. “I suppose it would be fine.”

  Instead of relaxing like I expect, he looks more nervous, scratching the back of his neck. He scoots closer to me and puts an arm on the sofa behind me. I become rigid.

  “Before I came here, I was engaged to a girl back home.”

  The shock of the statement shoves the tension from me. “When did she die?”

  He gives an unhappy chuckle. “She's perfectly alive and healthy.”

  “But you can't possibly be my intended then.”

  “Laws are different there. Engagements aren't as binding. We don't have a ceremony until the wedding and no contract is ever sealed. Just an agreement made, which I broke at our engagement ceremony.”

  Another should have belonged to him, not me. I should be back at Father's house or owned by another. An odd pang trembles through me.

  He clears his throat. “I'm telling you so you know why I don't act like the typical groom.”

  I nod, though I really don't know why it matters. At least to me. It's easy to see why he cares how others may view it, but why does it matter if I know?

  “May I kiss you now?”

  No. Kisses leave me feeling sick. “I suppose it would be for the best.”

  He leans closer. I want to pull away. Thomas's kisses were callous. Painful even. The thought of more of that makes me feel queasy. But giving my permission somehow makes it harder to pull away.

  His hand reaches up and brushes my face. Flecks of gold are mixed with the green of his eyes. Suddenly, he scoops me into his arms and plops me on his lap. I yelp.

  “Sorry, I guess I should have warned you first.”

  After straightening my skirt with quivering fingers, I hold myself stiff. His nose nuzzles against the side of my neck. Warm lips brush my jaw and sweep along my cheek until they reach the corner of my mouth. My breath comes in shallow gasps. He smells lightly of citrus.

  I don't move. His fingers tangle in my hair. His lips hover over mine. A nervous flutter grows in my chest. The creak of the door opening spurs him into action.

  His lips touch mine. Flowing and sunny. They grow firmer. It feels so much better than I thought it could. His fingers run through my hair, the tendrils falling out of their confinement. Heat grows between us. He pulls me closer to him. Not only do I manage to refrain from fighting him, but I want to draw even closer.

  “Ahem.” Phyllis.

  He leans away, though still only inches from me. “Why are you interrupting?”

  My face feels flushed. I try to slow my breathing.

  “Sorry, Chancellor. I was told I was needed in here.”

  He turns on her, face tight. “You are, but not now. Didn't you get my message?”

  “What message?”

  “My family also gifted Serena a servant. She'll need to be shown your duties when she gets here.”

  “My duties, Master? Not hers?”

  A grumble sounds from him, vibrating his chest. “No. You'll be working in the kitchen. We're grateful for you services so far, but with this new servant, you're needed elsewhere.”

  “I see.”

  “Then leave. I'm busy right now.”

  My face grows hotter. He presses his lips back on mine. It's much different than when Thomas kissed me. Softer. Slower. Comfortable. Nicer than I thought kissing could be. I don't even mind it. In fact, I think I like it.

  Suddenly, he pulls away and sets me back on the couch. Why did he stop? I realize Phyllis is no longer in the room. When did she leave? My face heats. I put a hand to my tingling lips. The fabric of my glove may be soft against them, but feels coarse after his touch.

  He clears his throat. “Thank you for your help with that.”

  “Certainly.” Just doing my duty as your possession. Though it felt like more. More what, I can't be sure of.

  His lips press together. It's silent a mome
nt before he shakes his head and says, “There's one other thing I wanted to discuss. It's customary for council members to hold a ball the day before they get married.”

  The council? Why do they even care? “It is?”

  “Looks like it. Council members are usually married before they're on the council, so it's not done often, but I've been told we'll need to hold one. Would you be willing to arrange this? I can give input where needed and Waverly's good at that sort of thing. You could ask for help from anyone else you want.”

  Exactly the sort of thing I hoped never happened. Not like I can refuse. Or maybe I can, he is asking, and he let me pick my dress and go shopping on my own. It could be possible to say no.

  I smooth the gown of my charcoal skirt. Perhaps Katherine could make a ball gown for me. I could wear it and tell those who are interested in it who made it. It could aid her, if they like it. But in doing so, I'd create another dress she wouldn't get paid for.

  “Will you plan it?” His voice pulls me from my musing.

  “Yes, Chancellor Zade.”

  He brushes the seat of the sofa. “One thing. As part of this type of ball, there's a sacrifice. That will be mine to take care of. If anyone wants to know about it, send them to me. Okay?”

  A chill runs through me. I nod.

  “Good. Everyone on the council should be invited and those of rank. You probably know better than me.” He waves his hand. I duck, but no spell comes. “Maybe not. I'll get you a list.”

  It sounds daunting. “I'm not very well versed in things like that. Cynthia's good at it. Bethany's better.”

  “The third oldest?”

  “Yes. She loves things like that. She wanted to go to the tournament, but wasn't allowed.” I didn't need to say quite so much, but he doesn't look upset.

  “I'll ask your Father if she can help.”

  My load feels lighter already. “That would be fantastic. I'd love it if she could stay with us.” Avoid whatever punishments she's been taking in my absence. Hopefully very little.

  “I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try.”

  “Thank you, Chancellor Zade.”

  “We'll consider it repayment of the favor you just did for me.” The vague reference to the kiss makes my face heat again. There's no reason for me to act this way about my duty. He stands. “And you can call me Zade.”