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“What?” Vee asked, smiling. “Trust me, this is for the best. Can you imagine spending so long on something and it doesn’t get eaten? This way, none of them will go to waste, I promise.”
Amalia hadn’t considered that. In fact, she’d never thought about it before, never considered all the days she’d let those macarons be takenback to the kitchen untouched. Thinking about it now made it feel like there was a lead weight in her stomach.
“You should try the cucumber sandwiches,” she said, motioning toward the small triangular pieces on the table.
Vee didn’t need to be told twice. She took one from the stack and gave it a suspicious sniff. Then frowned.
“It's just… it’s just salad, is it?” she asked.
“Well, it’s… it’s cucumber,” Amalia tried to explain.
Vee set the sandwich back on the plate gently and wiped her hands on a napkin. Amalia couldn’t help but think it was probably her best impression at being polite.
“I’m not a big fan of salad,” Vee said patiently, as though speaking to a child. “Wolves prefer meat.”
“And cookies,” Amalia added with a slight smile.
Vee rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously, and cookies.” She then shot Vee a grin, reaching into her bag and popping another macaron into her open mouth.
Amalia giggled.
“So, that’s what sort of Shifter you are? A Wolf?” she asked. She sipped her tea, then frowned at it. It did taste a bit like dirt and leaves, didn’t it? For the first time, Amalia wondered whether she actually even liked tea.
Vee nodded, chewing. “Mhm,” she said, mouth full of cookie crumbs. “There’s a lot of us in the city, you know. We might even be the single biggest group of Shifters in the realm.” She licked crumbs from her fingertips.
“Could I… could I see, maybe?” Amalia asked, nervously. “Your Wolf form, I mean?”
Vee gave her a wicked smile. “Oh, you could,” she said in a teasing voice. “But I’d have to get naked first.”
“Oh,” Amalia blushed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Never mind, then. I’m sorry for asking. That was rude of me.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Vee said with a shrug. She picked the tea up again as though to drink and then, giving it a long look, put it back downagain. “You couldn’t have known. I’m guessing you haven’t had a lot of dealings with my kind, right?”
Amalia shook her head. “No,” she said. She shrank further in on herself. “I haven’t had a lot of dealings with anyone, truth be told.”
Vee just looked at her, head tilting to the side.
“My mother…” Amalia swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. “My mother didn’t let me out of the palace much. And hardly anyone but our own Faction ever came to visit, or petition her for anything, so…” She let the sentence die, suddenly embarrassed by her own ignorance.
“I like your outfit,” Amalia said, looking at Vee’s clothing and desperately wanting to change the subject. She was wearing a simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans, ripped and worn with wear at the knees. It looked… cool. Comfortable and effortlessly pretty.
Just like Vee.
Vee just laughed. “My outfit?” she said, grinning. “I wouldn’t call it much of an outfit, not next to what you’re wearing.”
Amalia winced and looked down at her dress. She had dressed in one of her mother’s fanciest gowns, dressed as though she were attending an official tea party with someone of note.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I think I need some new clothes,” she said, pulling a face. Even after supplementing her wardrobe with her mother’s clothing, she realized she owned nothing that wasn’t either a dress or a skirt. She had no pants, no simple tops like the ones Vee wore. Nothing like what the people she saw in the city were wearing.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Amalia looked down at all the ruffles and lace on her skirt and wished she’d chosen anything else to wear. She tugged at the fabric, as though trying to smooth the lace enough to make it less noticeable.
When Vee reached out, placing a hand over her own, Amalia froze.
“Hey,” Vee said in a low voice, and Amalia looked up at her. She had the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. And her hand was warm, so warm, against Amalia’s. “I like your dresses, okay? You’re so… fancy,” she finished with a smile.
Amalia blushed and lookedaway.
