to be around. We'd share a smile over something. More than anything, he'd understand if I complained about feeling out of place.
He knows what that feels like, after all.
"Did you bring in the concubine's new dresses?" Yulenna asks in an imperious voice when the servants bring another round of food. I shove a nut-covered pastry into my mouth, licking my fingers as she turns and gives the servants an angry look. "Haven't we asked for our clothes? Repeatedly? She needs them so she can be ready to greet our lord of storms when he returns to our chambers this evening."
"I'm sorry, revered anchor," a female maidservant stammers to Yulenna. "We were told to bring the clothes, but then you asked for more food and—"
"And now the food is here, and we still need the clothes." She looks down her nose at the woman. "Go and retrieve them."
"Right away, revered anchor." The servant drops into a quick bobbing curtsy and then races out the door.
"Laying it on a little thick, aren't we?" I murmur to Yulenna, who just gives me an impish grin. "I mean, she's got a point. I did ask for more food. Whatever these little nutty things are, they're fucking amazing." They're shaped like stars and taste like heaven and I might have already eaten an entire tray. Or two.
Definitely two.
Yulenna just tosses her hair. "Oh, if we don't order them about, it messes up the pecking order. The more demanding that we are, the more it cements our power. We act like they're here to serve our every need and it reminds them who's in charge."
That's an odd way of looking at things, but it makes sense. I've been nice and polite to the soldiers, and while Markos and Kerren are kind and courteous to both me and Yulenna, Vitar smirks a lot and Solat flirts far too much for his own good. Maybe if I'd been firmer with them and established that we weren't supposed to be buddies, things would be smoother. As it is, I inwardly grimace every time Solat stares at me a little too long.
It's just a matter of time before Aron catches him and removes his head with his bare hands.
Of course, I'm a sick woman because that thought gives me a stupid little thrill that Aron would act jealous over something like that. Not that I want Solat to lose his head…but I like the thought of Aron being possessive over me.
Yulenna's smarter than she lets on, though. I eye her with new appreciation as the servants return and she gives them impatient looks and acts displeased. They all scramble to do her bidding and fill the room with their apologies, until her frown lifts and she gives them a tiny incline of her head, indicating they're back in her good graces.
She's got this shit down pat. For a moment, I feel a twinge of remorse. Would Aron do better with someone like Yulenna at his side? Someone who knows how to play the game and who knows this world and its customs? Probably.
Instead, he has me. I don't know anything, I can't fight for shit, and I'm bad at pretending that I do.
I suck as an anchor.
"There. I think these are acceptable. Try one on, Faith." She moves to the long chest of gowns and pulls the first one off of a stack.
I wipe my fingers, take one last sip of my wine, and then get up to join her. “Did you say these were new?”
“Yes. I figured I’d ask and see what we could get away with.” She gives me sly look. “The men only think about armor and weapons, but you and I both know that sometimes our only weapon is the way we look.”
I hate that she says that, because I hate that I have to agree with her. It’s become quite clear to me that the rules in this world don’t always apply like they do back home. Women are most definitely not equal here. Not anywhere here. That’s been a hard lesson to learn. I hate that I’m about to play up the only weapon I have because I want Aron to notice me. “Which gown’s the sluttiest?”
Her eyes gleam with approval and she puts the one in her hands back on its hook and pulls out another. “This one, I wager. Look at the material. It’s as thin as cobwebs.”
It is rather pretty and shimmery. The pale fabric reminds me of opals, with different