Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Tears stream down my face, over his fingers, as I try to nod.
He stands, dragging me to my feet, and jerks me across the floor to the bed. He shoves me onto the mattress without a care for how I land upon it, which is in a jumble of limbs.
“You’ll stay here and rest,” he orders coldly. “I expect to see you apply some of your new knowledge at dinner tonight. Dress appropriately.”
“Yes, Guardian.” I somehow manage to force my voice past the tears in my throat.
“In the meantime…” He tucks himself away and laces up his breeches with nimble fingers. “Come. Until you lose consciousness.”
He flicks his fingers, dooming me, and leaves the room.
Chapter Six
When I rouse from my nap, Marie has left a book beside me on the bed. It’s large, swathed in her signature light blue silk, and embellished with diamonds. I flinch at the soreness between my legs when I sit up. It isn’t unbearable, but it does feel strange. Pushing the covers back, I get to my feet and make my way to the tall oval looking glass. There, nestled between my folds, a pale pink pearl dangles on the golden ring that passes through my intimate skin.
The sight of it sends a flush of blood to the affected part, tightens my nipples. I endured that pain, I think proudly. I remember Luthian’s hold over me, how I couldn’t struggle to free myself from the needle. In hindsight, perhaps I wouldn’t have. He could have ordered me to sit still, and I would have obeyed. But being overpowered had been as arousing as Sarta’s tongue on me, or watching Luthian pound into her.
This world is new and exciting and terrifying. It’s pain that becomes pleasure and pleasure that turns into unbearable pain. Nothing in my life has ever prepared me for anything like it.
And the magic…
They use magic here as if it will never run out. Mother warned of temperance. Of not relying on magic. The dangers of overuse. Here, as in most things, there is no taboo. Only flagrant, joyous use of magic with wild abandon.
At that thought, my eyes fall upon the book. I go back to the bed and sit gingerly cross-legged, dragging it into my lap.
I open the cover and a scrap of parchment falls out.
C.
Please forgive me for leaving before you woke, but I do have other clients. Here is the wardrobe I have chosen for you. Use the pins to mark the pages and the garments will appear on the mannequin. I apologize that I can’t dress you, but that requires magic I cannot work from afar. However, Luthian is an expert at handling women’s clothing. I’m sure he’ll help as needed.
S.
“Use the pins?” I wonder aloud. I open the cover fully and note a ribbon fixed inside, holding several long, diamond-topped pins. I turn the first page, decorated with a “C” constructed of loops and swirls, to find a table of contents listing types of clothing. I flip to the first page of gowns.
“I expect to see you apply some of your new knowledge at dinner tonight. Dress appropriately,” Luthian said.
I examine the sketches, each of them accompanied by swatches of fabric, thinking about what my guardian considers “appropriate.” Certainly not the riding habit with the full sleeves and jacket with tails. Perhaps the clinging, pearlescent white gown that hangs from tiny straps that tie behind the neck. I imagine Luthian slowly untying the bow. Or untying it myself, for him. I want to impress him with my boldness, to make him see that I am learning, that I understand what will be expected of me.
I choose instead a gown of black silk so sheer it feels fragile between my fingers. Black leather encircles the waist in a tight band, scooping up beneath the wearer’s exposed breasts.
Luthian will certainly find this appropriate, I think to myself as I select a pin from the front of the book and slide it through the page. The dress appears on the mannequin as promised. The moment I touch it, the fabric flows down my arms and crawls over my body until it is perfectly tucked and fastened.
I check my reflection and know at once that my guardian will be pleased.
* * * *
It’s only when I’m on my way to his chambers that I consider we might not be dining alone. The thought only excites me more when I imagine how pleased Luthian will be to see me, barely dressed, in front of guests.
Mother never instilled any sense of shame in me regarding my body, but she did teach me a sense of propriety. The court she came from—the one that had cruelly rejected her—doesn’t behave as freely, as indulgently as the Court of Pleasure and Torment. Before Luthian, I never would have imagined a scenario when my nakedness would be put on display, or that I would so enjoy it. I’m crestfallen when I enter his parlor and find it is only him waiting for me.