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“Unreal.” I flop over, shove my face into a pillow, and groan.
Well, it could have been worse. I could have been screaming his name.
twenty-three
He’s a True Nightmare
Alessia
The next morning, a beam of light bursts from behind my eyelids.
Cracking my eyes open, I inwardly curse at the sight of Das Celyn standing before the window. Tracking their movements with sleepy eyes, I wipe away a bit of crust with my sleeve. They move with purpose to the armoire, yanking out a dress and tossing it onto the bed where I sit.
Great.
As if last night wasn’t terrible enough with Rainer walking in on me pleasuring myself—to thoughts of him no less—now I have to contend with Das Celyn instead of Ken this morning. I’ve grown rather fond of my training routine with the shifter.
“Get dressed,” they say.
I take in the dress they chose—a frilly purple thing. “I can’t wear that to training.” A bit of humor bubbles up at the absurdity of the dress. “And what’s with the attitude? I thought you were finally warming up to me.”
“You’re not training today.” They cast me a stern face, ignoring my question.
“What? Why not?”
“We have guests and I need your help tending them.”
“And I must wear a dress? This dress?” It’s a straightforward question. I’m not pouting or throwing a fit about it, but Das Celyn, who is now rummaging through a leather bag, rolls their eyes all the same.
“You must be presentable.”
“I’m presentable in pants.”
They pull out a few various cosmetics, entering and exiting my bathing room swiftly and returning with a hairbrush and scented oils.
“No you’re not. And honestly, I don’t think the dress will be enough to help you either. At this point, only magic could help you.”
“Ouch,” I say, mockingly rubbing at my heart.
“Oh please. You know it’s true.” They gesture toward me. “Look at your curls! They’re a knotted nest. Better suited for the birds than anything.”
“That’s… kind of mean.” If I cared more about my appearance, their words might hurt. But I really could not care less about how I look. After living with the lord’s wandering eyes and drunken touches, the last thing I ever cared about was being pretty.
Except… maybe deep down I do care.
A small wave of jealousy washes over me as I remember seeing Fern the first night I met her and Rainer. She looked absolutely stunning, confident. Maybe a small part of me wishes that, for once, I could care about my appearance, make myself pretty, and attract the attention of someone I like.
Like the prince.
Perhaps I could be the one pulling him into my room instead, living out my fantasies in reality instead of in dreams.
A blush paints my cheek and I chew my lip.
“Fine. Yes. I see where you’re coming from.”
“Then get over here.” They pat the settee, clearly ready to clean me up and make me over. “I’ve been hoping to do this since I met you.”
“What, insult me? You have been doing that since you met me.” I hop out of bed and join them where they’ve set up their tools for making me over. I perch on the settee as they use their fingers to unknot my curls.
