Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Is that right?”
“It is.”
“Then call me Mila,” I say.
Lydia’s eyes narrow a fraction. “I will use your title, as is proper.”
“You’ll do as I say,” I reply. I know I should perhaps avoid the confrontation, but my mother always taught me you need to get the respect of the staff.
Lydia smiles for the first time. Her teeth are sharper than I expected them to be, and the way her eyes flash as she replies gives me some cause for concern. “Will I?”
“Yes,” I say. “Please,” I add.
“You may be the Archon-General’s wife, but you are still a little bitch pup, and I am still a very big dog,” Lydia says, violet eyes glittering with something like threat. “Now, if you will accompany me, Lady Darken, it is time you went shopping.”
It takes me a moment to realize what she just said to me. It is so unspeakably rude that it takes me several minutes to digest it. Lydia’s expression grows increasingly annoyed as I refuse to move the way she wants me to.
“Is there a reason you’re not following me?”
“Are you allowed to speak to me that way? Should I check with my husband to see if he is comfortable with his wife being disrespected?”
“You can run and tell the general whatever you like,” Lydia says. “If that is the sort of bride you intend to be.”
“I’m the kind of bride who won’t be spoken to with that kind of disrespect. I haven’t done anything to you. There’s no reason to call me a…” I can’t even repeat the word. It’s so crude and cruel.
My lower lip starts to tremble. I suck in a deep breath, because I do not want to cry. It would be absolutely humiliating to sob because someone is rude to me.
“Why don’t you like me?” I ask the question with my voice breaking.
Lydia lets out a long sigh. “It is not personal, Lady Darken,” she says. “I am accustomed to speaking harshly to other soldiers. I am not a creature of the city, or of formal situations. I was chosen by the Archon-General to guard you because I served in his personal guard. I forget that you have a more delicate sensibility.”
“I bet you never called Arthur a little bitch,” I complain.
“I did not,” she says, her cheek twitching with amusement. “Now, if you will accompany me, it’s time we got you a nice dress.”
I allow myself to be escorted from the fortress and into the city. New Boston is a gleaming place, full of people and excitement. Lydia and I take the car to a store that has been chosen for me in advance.
Frills and Thrills, the sign declares. It seems very cheerful, which is interesting because I didn’t think that The State did cheerful. I thought it did power and ceremony and war. I suppose it does all that too.
“Ladies! How can I help you!” A very cheery lady with pink curling hair greets us as we step into the boutique.
“This is the Lady Darken,” Lydia says. “She is looking for a formal gown or two.”
“Oh, of course! It would be my pleasure! What a pretty young thing you are, Lady Darken. And such gorgeous coloring. You could wear pink or blue quite easily. Pink is in this season. Perhaps that would be the choice.”
She speaks as though the store contains anything that isn’t pink. I cast a pleading look over at Lydia, in the hopes that she might rescue me, but apparently she is only going to save my life, not my pride. She is standing against the doorway, her eyes roaming the street outside. She is guarding me from danger, and ugly clothes aren’t technically dangerous.
Over the next hour or so, I get festooned with various dresses, none of which feel flattering. There is so much material, and it is all so bulky. I am getting lost in it. The assistant seems to think I want something dramatic to make a scene, but I would be more than happy simply to fit in.
“What is taking so long, Lady Darken?” Lydia eventually notices that this is consuming an inordinate amount of time.
“You’ve taken me to a place that is going to dress me like an overgrown infant,” I complain. “I need something sophisticated to wear!”
“Any dress would make you look young, because you are,” Lydia says. “And most of these dresses are designed to make the wearer look younger than they are, because most of the time women think men like that.”
“Is that it?”
“I have no evidence it is not it,” she says.
“I don’t think that’s the reason… the pink ruffles are too much. The full skirts are too much. The bright fluorescent colors are too much. I want something simple.”
Lydia finally takes pity on me. “The colors of Lord Darken are black and red, so perhaps that is the color scheme we should be looking for.”