“Does anyone have pants?” I ask, and the arguing in front of me pauses. “Preferably the kind with reinforced knees or a layer of hidden armor sewn in?” I try when everyone just stares at me like I’m speaking a different language.
The human starts to step forward and then balks when both Seza’s and Bettany’s heads snap in his direction, their glares incinerating. Another drake takes it upon herself to maneuver in front of the human as though keeping him from sight will cause me to forget he ever existed in the first place.
“So sorry, uh…” the drake trails off in search of what to call me. Her blue eyes dart to the guards imploringly, but no one takes pity on her and provides her with a name or a title. “Dragoness,” she finally fills in, but it rings with uncertainty when her nostrils flare and she scents me. “I’ve brought the latest fashions taking Four Tiers by storm. You’ll be the talk of the keeps and the envy of all. If you’ll just allow me to show you—”
“Any of the latest fashions include pants?” I ask, cutting the female off just as she calls forward a rack of dresses that look like they’re made of strips of seaweed.
“I don’t understand,” Seza clucks testily.
I turn to her. “You don’t know what pants are?”
Her eyes narrow infinitesimally before she gets a hold of herself. “You’ll be dressing for royal functions, won’t you? Public appearances? Dinners? Important announcements?” the female hedges.
I shrug, and I swear I hear one of the guards behind me snicker quietly.
“Is there a rule against pants at those kinds of things?” I inquire innocently, despite my patience starting to wear thin.
“Those kinds of things?” Seza repeats, slightly scandalized. “A rule?” she goes on, her gaze, like the other female’s, searching the faces of the guards behind me for help. “Dragoness, I dress Arsenna Dacre and her kindred, the Isidores, Varuca Cesarini and the entire Cesarini line, just to name a few of the prominent dragons that trust my expert guidance. But, I promise, not one of them will hold a candle to you under my care and tutelage. Let me show you some designs I’ve been working on that I think will be perfect for what youneed…” she coos at me as though lording a few noble names over my head will put me back in my place.
I smile sweetly at the female, and she mirrors it, taking a step closer, wrongly scenting victory.
“Seza, is it?” I ask.
An arrogant gleam enters her eyes, and she nods, aiming for demure but missing it by a mile—probably because she shoots a nasty sneer at Bettany while she’s doing it.
I lean forward, the saccharine grin never leaving my face. “What Ineedare some fucking pants. Stop name-dropping like some naughty puppy that’s piddling all over the carpet. I don’t care who you dress or whatyouthink I should wear. Do you have what I want or not?”
“I do,” a silvery voice declares as the human man steps out from behind the drake that tried to block him. “Not with me, dragoness,” he corrects when my eyes move to the clothing behind him. “But I can get what you’re looking for.”
Bettany snorts, and the obnoxious sound tugs on my last thread of restraint.
“How did you even get in here, Azo?” the female demands.
The human man glowers over at her. “I was invited, just like you.”
“A mistake, I’m sure?” the griffon shifter mocks.
“Enough,” I bark out, and the room goes silent.
“What’s your name?” I ask the human, who seems to deflate a little.
“Azo Endebry, dragoness. I’m a representative of designer Fenox Lael.”
It’s clear in the way he says the name that he expects some kind of reaction from me, but whoever Fenox is, it’s not ringing any bells.
“Very well. Azo, stay, the rest of you can go,” I order.
“You can’t be serious,” both Seza and the kyba exclaim in harmony.
Several other trumpets of dismay fill the room as Ogdan and Tove step around me to escort everyone out. I’m tempted to trip Tove as she passes, but I manage to wrangle the desire and behave myself. I sit in my plush chair and pretend to be important while the guards herd the whining group and their racks. I’m pretty sure Bettany hits Ogdan with hers on purpose, which earns her a warning growl from the Burner, which I’m pretty sure has the female shitting in her shiny dress.
Quickly and efficiently, the room is cleared and I return my attention to the human. His presence here is curious but ultimately none of my business, so I don’t bother voicing any of the nosey questions flitting around in my head.
“How long will it take to get me what I need?” I ask the man, who looks a little surprised to still be standing here.
“Fenox can have some custom designs for you by tomorrow, maybe even the end of day, depending on what you want. She’ll need to take measurements, and she’ll draw up some sketches when you meet and discuss exactly what it is you’d like.”
“Perfect, how soon can she be here?” I ask, feeling better already.
