Chapter 19
What’s A Girl Gotta Do Around Here To Get Some Bloody Gems?
The attendants descended on Rion first.
“Behind the screen, my dear,” Queen Noemi said briskly, already turning away to fix the collar of the jacket one of the attendants had draped over Corvan. “Quickly now. We all have things to do today.”
Rion disappeared behind a folding screen of hammered gold and silk panels. Fabric whispered as one of the attendants followed her, bits and pieces of her uniform carried out from behind the screen and folded upon a chair.
Eiko stood there awkwardly as everyone ignored her, until Rion finally reappeared wearing nothing but a linen shift that stopped high on her thighs.
It was painfully thin. The weave was so fine that it clung to every line of her body, translucent where the sunlight struck it just right.
It left nothing to the imagination; her hips, stomach, and the subtle slope of her breasts all on display.
Did this really have to be an entire family affair?
Eiko clenched her jaw as the king stared at Rion in appreciation.
Corvan was distracted with his own reflection in the mirror and only gave Rion a small nod in polite acknowledgement before returning to a murmured conversation with the attendant fussing with his jacket.
Ceran also kept his eyes on his mirror, switching out his jacket for another, his attention raised only to glance at Eiko in the reflection, his lips twitching again like he found it funny that everyone had sort of … forgotten all about her.
Chasin had pulled out his timepiece again, and when he sighed heavily and slipped it back into his pocket, it was only so that he could turn himself more fully to glare out of the window. Probably to stare longingly out towards the Godsguard barracks, where he clearly wished he was.
It wasn’t the first time either Rion or Eiko had been forced to strip in front of the royal family, but it didn’t make it easier to see the subtle tremble in Rion’s calves as she stepped onto one of the little platforms before a mirror and allowed the attendants to begin fussing over her.
She held her shoulders back and squared, her posture flawless, her chin lifted, her expression serene.
Queen Noemi circled her slowly, attendants darting in to drape lengths of fabric over Rion’s shoulders—bronze-shot silk, layered mesh threaded with gold, strips of hammered metal that clinked softly as they were lifted and lowered.
“Hmm,” the queen murmured. “Yes. Her frame will carry the weight beautifully.” She cast a quick, despairing look back at Eiko as if to say, “Unlike that one.”
They tried a collar at some point: a broad, crescent-shaped piece of gold that rested against Rion’s collarbones, engraved with geometric sunbursts. Then a headpiece. Delicate chains of hammered bronze that fell like a veil over her hair, catching the light with every movement.
Rion didn’t flinch or fidget or shrink, and even Eiko found herself a little entranced.
The queen was cultivating a theme with the cloth, materials, and accessories.
Eiko could see that now. Everything was themed around the Godsguard—the gold, the metal, the mesh—and yet it was all beautifully feminine, and Rion did carry it well. She turned each new piece into art.
Ceran now watched with open interest, leaning forward slightly. Corvan looked … quieter. Thoughtful. Almost reverent.
The queen began to smile.
The king had colour in his cheeks—a flushed sort of greedy glee that he didn’t even bother to hide. He looked very pleased with how this fitting was unfolding.
Rion was weaving them all under her spell.
Except Chasin, who was still pining after the barracks he had been forced to leave, and who only paused in his brooding to check his timepiece several more times.
By the time Rion was ushered back towards the screen to redress, the princes also seemed to be finished with their fittings.
“You’re excused,” the queen said, as Rion stepped out in her uniform again. “Return to your training.”
Rion paused, just long enough to glance at Eiko. There was something soft there. Apologetic. And beneath it … she seemed resigned. Then she was gone.
Eiko waited for her public humiliation to begin, but the room quickly thinned. Corvan left with an attendant still tugging at his sleeve all the way to the door. The other attendants drifted away in busy conversation. Even Queen Noemi left with a distracted snap to her step, calling after Corvan.
Eiko remained standing where she was.
“Your turn, Miss Eiko,” the one remaining attendant said.
Eiko stepped behind the screen with a burning face, humiliation clogging up her throat. She certainly didn’t want the attention, but it smarted that she was clearly such an eyesore that it didn’t even seem to matter what she wore, as long as Rion was beautiful enough for them both.
She stripped out of her leathers with hands that shook. The attendant appeared with a linen shift, stopping short in shock as she eyed the full extent of Eiko’s bruised and battered body. Eiko ignored her, tugging the shift over her head.
It was even smaller than Rion’s … like they had given her one meant for a child. Too skinny, Cairn’s biting voice flooded back into her mind.
The shift clung to her like a second skin, the fabric ghosting over the sharp angles of her ribs and the soft curve of her hips. It stopped obscenely high on her thighs.
I can’t catch a fucking break around here, she said to Hymn, close to tears all of a sudden. He nuzzled into her palm, a despairing sound vibrating out of him and through her.
You can do this, he whispered. You survive worse than this with Cairn every day.
A tear slipped free. She wished Cairn was there. He would scoff and roll his eyes and insult every little thing in the room that came under his scrutiny.
I think I’m going mad like Vana, she whispered to Hymn. I just realised I miss Cairn.
Anyone is preferable to these people, Hymn grumbled. We hate them.
“Hurry up!” the king suddenly snapped. “Good sky, does she not know how to dress herself?”
Eiko stepped out from behind the screen.
King Grigori’s gaze landed on her and stuck. Ceran straightened, interest sharpening into something more focused. Chasin finally turned away from the window, and Eiko hated his attention most of all.
The attendant led her to one of the platforms and then moved around her, lifting and measuring, murmuring numbers under her breath.
Cool metal brushed her skin, armoured panels, and gilded bodices shaped to boast strength and softness in equal measure.
Metal headdresses. All the same things they had tested out on Rion, they tested again on her.
Just to rub salt in her wounds.
“She looks half-starved,” the king barked. “For the love of light, Chasin, fix the damned bruises. I’m sick of looking at them.”
Eiko frowned, her body locking up as Chasin stepped away from the window.
He approached her with silent steps, stopping only a breath away.
The attendant scattered back so fast that she stumbled, before quickly righting herself and pretending she needed to urgently sort a pile of fabrics on the other side of the room.
Even though Eiko was standing on the platform, Chasin still towered over her, but for once, she was grateful for it.
Even though he was an insufferable psychopath, he was an insufferable psychopath that she was accustomed to.
And at that moment, he was blocking out the other two men in the room completely.
She was used to Chasin watching her, assessing her, surveying her.
She wasn’t used to being on display for anyone else.
She let her eyes drift across his sharply handsome face, the stubble along his chin long enough to almost call a beard today. Her fingers curled. Her blood chilled, her breath tightened. It seemed that the air in the room thinned.
His eyes dropped to her hands, and her stomach flipped so rapidly that for just a moment, she thought she might actually sway dizzily on the spot. This was too familiar. This was what they had done in the first week of her training with Eclipse.
She had stood before him, pretending to be blind, while he moved close enough to whisper if he needed to. Close enough to chill her blood with his power and warm her skin with his body.
And then he would stare at her hands, waiting for the words.
I belong to you.
All while secretly knowing that he had fooled her completely.
He was such an asshole.
Gradually, he lifted his eyes, stroking his dark, pupil-dilated stare across her face.
He raised his hands, and Hymn stirred in panic, shooting down to circle her ankle in trembling fear.
Chasin set his hands against her shoulders, his large grip dwarfing her, and closed his eyes.
Cool, cold darkness swept through her in a rush, tingling against her skin, soothing her sore bones.
She glanced down in surprise as the ache eased from her injuries, the stiffness bleeding from her fingers, the blisters healing on her hands.
The bruises faded, her skin returning to a healthy dusk shimmer. She arched slightly beneath his hands, marvelling over the supple pliancy in her spine, and his eyes flew open, his fingers flexing, his grip tightening. His brows knit as his eyes swept over her.
And then he lifted one finger.
I can feel him, Hymn whispered. He’s hungry. Ravenous.
She assumed Hymn was talking about Chasin’s monster. Is he still hunting us?
It’s something more, now. Obsession. He’s … enjoying the hunt, now.
That sounds bad?
Another finger, and then Chasin managed to tear himself away, stalking back to the window.
It’s very, very bad, Hymn agreed gravely. Try not to act like prey. It will only trigger him.
How the fuck do I act like “not prey?” she asked distractedly, as King Grigori appraised her with an appreciative hum. And also, what the fuck did Chasin just do to me?