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“Is everything alright?” she asked, turning her blue eyes up to me.
I removed my hand.
“Yes. Just guiding you away from stepping in some dung.”
“Oh! Thank you! I didn’t see it. This is my only pair of boots and I wouldn’t want them to smell badly of dung if I could help it.”
“It won’t be your only pair of boots for long,” I said. “We’re nearly at Frilda’s table.”
“That’s alright. They’re holding up well enough. I really only need a simple dress or two. Maybe a pair of trousers,” she said quickly. I cast a glance down at her feet as we walked, hating that that was what she considered, “holding up well enough.”
“No,” I said, my tone brokering no chance for opposition. “You’re getting new boots.”
Wynthea didn’t get a chance to argue because Frilda was calling a greeting to me over the chatter of the market-goers.
“Sigwulf! My favourite Dragon Caste customer! Come, come! What do you need today?”
Her grey eyes, even greyer than her silvered hair, passed back and forth between Wynthea and me as we stepped up to her booth. Unlike some of the other vendors, she didn’t just have a simple table. She had set up a large flat-topped tent to sell her wares, with a closed-off section in one of the back corners for people to try on clothing in private.
“Nothing for me today, Frilda,” I told her. “I need human clothing. Dresses. Trousers. Boots. Gloves. A cloak.”
Wynthea sputtered beside me. “Dresses plural? A cloak? I can’t afford all that even with an advance on this month’s salary!”
“This isn’t coming from your salary,” I muttered as Frilda started unhooking clothing from the wooden racks in her booth.
“I don’t understand. Is this a gift? It’s far too much!”
I turned from watching Frilda with a critical eye, making sure she was only selecting the best garments, to find Wynthea looking panicked.
“Then consider it a uniform,” I said. “You need a uniform to perform your work. Your employer should provide that.”
Her mouth fell open and closed several times, and I allowed myself a smirk of victorious satisfaction that she could not argue against my logic.
“Well, I don’t need a cloak to work in a nice warm library!” she finally said. She smirked right back at me and crossed her arms over her chest. This plumped up her breasts, making their curves more obvious even beneath her current cloak. Which was a clear indication that the cloak was too thin and not warm enough anyway.
“Well, I can’t have my employees dying of cold when they’re not in the library, can I?” I growled. “You’ll be of no use to me even in the warm library if all your fingers have been bitten off by frost. I contracted you to work during winter, so I will also provide your winter clothing. Which means a new cloak. Gloves. New boots. And new shoes for inside, too.” The thin slippers I’d seen her wear had no real structure or support. I had no doubt that her feet ached at the end of each day. As her employer, I cannot allow such a thing to continue.
“Don’t people usually leave their uniforms behind after their contract, though? The clothing belongs to the employer, not the worker. So, you’ll have to take them back eventually,” Wynthea countered.
“What would I do with these garments?” I scoffed. “They’d be far too small to fit anyone else at the castle. You will keep them.”
“Don’t try to argue with him, sweet,” Frilda said as she returned to us, her arms laden with wool, velvet, cotton, and silk. She grinned, several gold teeth flashing where her natural ones had fallen out. “He’s too stubborn. Gets that from his Orcborne side.”
“I get it from both sides,” I corrected her.
“It comes from only two parents and yet it somehow has been strengthened tenfold,” Wynthea said, raising a brow at me. But there was no bite to her words. And when her eyes fell upon the clothing Frilda offered, her gaze grew wistful with longing.
“Try it all on,” I urged her. “And come out here so I can see it. I need to approve your uniforms and make sure you don’t try to refuse any of the clothing by claiming it does not fit when it actually does.”
I could tell this was hard for Wynthea to accept. But her being warm and properly clothed was more important than her pride right now. And I didn’t want her trying to wiggle out of accepting any of the clothing.
Plus, the dastardly, selfish part of me longed to see her in the dresses. A roaring possessiveness had taken hold of me, and in this moment, its empty claws would only be soothed by seeing her in the new clothing. And not just any clothing. Clothing that I alone would provide for her.
Wynthea fidgeted, her eyes darting between me, Frilda, and the clothing. Finally, she stilled and gave one decisive nod.
“Alright. I’ll try it all on.”
Satisfaction soothed the jealous beast inside me.
