The neckline is open to my waist, though.

So's the slit in the skirt.

I clear my throat gently, a silent question on my lips as I play with the (one, small) tie at the waist that holds it together. "Are we missing a piece?"

"Feast wear is very formal," Lady Gerline says, with a downright devastated look on her face. "Do you not like the dress?"

"It's very nice," I reassure her, and I'm relieved when her expression turns into a smile again. Jesus, you'd think I'd kicked a kitten the way she looked so upset. Someone comes forward with a thick, wide belt, and I relax. Obviously we're not done dressing. Thank goodness.

I lift my arms and remain still as servants cinch my waist in the ornately tooled black leather belt, and my fingers brush over Aron's symbol. They didn't know he was coming, so all the axes etched into this leather means they truly do worship him. It's a good sign. With the belt on, my dress doesn't gape open nearly as far, but the slightest breeze will expose everything in a completely scandalous matter. I tug and fuss at the fur hems, but stop when I see that another woman sweeps down the hall in a gown just like mine. All right, then. When in Rome and all that.

"Let me fix your hair for you," a servant says, and I'm ushered to a padded stool in front of a copper mirror. "Does your lord prefer your hair up or down?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her that he doesn't get a say, but then I remember I'm supposed to be the concubine. "Let's go with up."

"And you, my lady anchor?" Lady Gerline asks Yulenna politely as another waiting woman combs out Yulenna's thick red tresses.

"I'll be staying in my chambers this night," she says in an imperious voice, making it sound as if she's the lady of the castle and not Gerline. "You can have my food sent up here."

Lady Gerline looks shocked. "Oh…but my Lord of Storms must have a companion for the feast. It is tradition." She wrings her hands, distressed.

"The concubine can go," Yulenna says with a flick of her hand and then yawns. "I am weary."

"That's right," I say brightly before Lady Gerline can protest. "Aron's asked for me tonight." And I give her an exaggerated wink.

A look of relief crosses her face. "Very good."

Yulenna retires to the sleeping chambers and I'm left alone with Lady Gerline and the serving maid. Lady Gerline's nervous as she gets ready for the dinner herself, fluttering about as if she's a schoolgirl meeting her first crush. It's strange to see. At least I'm not the only one wearing skimpy clothing. She asks if we have clothes to share with her—it seems that I wear her clothes and she wears mine, which is a weird custom, but I'm learning there's a lot of weird in this land. Most of mine are tunics and men’s clothing, which aren't appropriate for a concubine, so I give her one of Yulenna's gowns and hope she doesn't ask too many questions. (I also hope Yulenna doesn't notice.) Lady Gerline seems satisfied when she puts on the gown and it's completely see-through. She fusses with her hair, then applies a pigment to her nipples so they stand out under the gown's sheer fabric.

I avert my eyes and do my best not to stare. When in Rome, I remind myself. When in Rome. I adjust the deep vee of my gown, and I'm glad it covers as much as it does. Sure, one wrong move and I'm going to be tits out, but the girls are covered at least. The slit in the dress is a little worrisome—instead of going up one leg, it goes straight up the middle, following the part of my thighs, and goes practically to my waist. It's like they gave me an overcoat and forgot to give me the garment that goes underneath.

Other than the breezy clothes, so far these people have been nice and welcoming. Just because I had a bad experience at Tadekha's citadel doesn't mean this place is going to turn into an orgy. Maybe the men like eye candy while they eat.

The serving woman pulls my hair into a tight knot atop my head and shows me a series of pots that contain makeup. It's not the usual foundation-highlighter-powder-blush-etc. routine that I'm used to. There's a pot of color for lips (or, ahem, nipples), several pots of darker powders that must be eye shadows, and a carved stick that applies the darker stuff to lashes. I use it all sparingly, because I don't want to look like a clown, but I also don't want to insult my hostesses. When I've got the barest hints of color on my face, I get beaming looks of approval from the women, and then we sit and wait for dinner.

Lady Gerline shifts and adjusts her clothing over and over again, clearly nervous. It's not a bad nervous, though, but one of excitement. She keeps looking at the door with a smile and giggles to herself now and then.

"Newlywed?" I ask, smiling.

She just tilts her head and gives me a curious look. "Lord Secuban and I have been wedded since I was twelve."

Well. A lover, then. My smile turns over-bright and I hope fervently dinner starts soon.

Eventually, a manservant comes to retrieve us and Lady Gerline is all giggles once more, smoothing her borrowed dress and fussing with her hair. Admittedly, she looks great. She's about my age if not a few years older, with thick dark hair. She's got fantastic tits that are outlined to magnificence in the sheer dress. A purple girdle cinches her waist to a ridiculous, exaggerated amount and she looks impressive even to my unknowledgeable eyes. Whoever she's meeting at dinner is sure to be pleased.

The manservant gestures that we should follow him, and I give my gown one last tug and then hold the bodice closed with one hand and the skirts closed with the other as I follow Lady Gerline to the hallway. I'm not surprised that Kerren falls into step behind me, with Markos and Vitar staying behind to guard Yulenna. Poor Kerren—his cheeks are bright red and his gaze is stiffly ahead, as if boobies will turn him to stone if he so much as looks in our busty, busty direction. We head down a long flight of stone stairs and then down another hall. I can hear a low murmur of voices as we approach the banquet, and a nervous flutter starts in my stomach.

I wonder what Aron'll think of my dress. It's been a while since I looked pretty and the last time…

Damn it. Someday I'm going to stop thinking of Tadeka's citadel. Someday.

OceanofPDF.com

49

The doors to the banquet hall are opened and I'm surprised to see that everyone jumps to their feet, gazing in our direction. Everyone except Aron, of course. He remains seated in his throne on the dais, his cool eyes watching everything. Lord Secuban rises, and if I thought Lady Gerline was excited, her husband looks as if he's about to lose control with eagerness. He looks at his wife proudly, and then his gaze moves to me with approval before he turns to Aron and puts his hand over his heart. He's brimming with enthusiasm and as I look around the room, it's full of men who seem just as eager.

Wow, these people must really love a feast.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I, too, love a feast, and some of my nervousness slides away. I ease a hand from the bodice of my dress, and when no boobs come flying out, I let it go so I can walk properly. I notice Aron is watching me, and my shoulders straighten a little. I can feel the heat of his gaze—his and a hundred other men in the room—as I walk next to Lady Gerline. She takes my hand in hers and leads me toward the dais, where Lord Secuban and Aron are waiting for us, and as we swan through the room, delicious smells hit. There are roasted meats and something cheesy cooking, and I smell fruit and something sweet. My mouth waters, and I decide tonight is going to be amazing. If these people throw half as good of a feast as they do a welcome, we're in for a treat.