I’m a little terrified to see the final look.
I’ve never considered myself feminine, much less pretty—though Lee made some progress convincing me otherwise. My shoulders are too broad, my calves too thick, my face too round. The only thing I ever really liked about myself was my thick, dark hair.
Of course, this place has taken that from me.
Right now, I’m sure I look absolutely ridiculous. Every bit like a pig in jewelry—plus a fancy dress and makeup, with my hair pinned and curled and gelled into place.
At least the boots fit, and they’re gorgeous, too. Sleek and elegant, made of shining, butter-soft leather. They hug my legs like a second skin all the way to the knee. I could do without the heels, but at least they aren’t very high.
The dress, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. It’s made of some silky material I can’t name and dyed deep, plummy purple. It has a faint shimmer to it, like oil on water, and it’s quite revealing, with high slits on either side. It’s so light and clingy that I feel close to naked wearing it.
“There,” Izabel says, straightening away from me with a little tin of lip dye in one hand. “That’s the final touch.” She looks at Venna, who grins and nods.
“You look amazing,” Venna adds, clearly proud of her handiwork. “Thanks to your talented new friends.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure. As long as I don’t look out of place at the Presentation.”
“Out of place?” Izabel says. “No. But you’ll certainly stand out with thathair.”
Izabel and Venna exchange quick, worried glances. “What?” I ask sharply.
There’s a huff from my left and I turn to see a brown-skinned woman with curly hair staring at me in assessment. She was the person crying silently in the courtyard last night. “You wouldn’t want to stand outtoomuch.”
“I know, I know,” I say. “I need to fit into the pack.”
The woman shakes her head. “It’s not about that.” She raises her eyebrows at Venna and Izabel, who give her matching winces in return.
“Why are you all being so cryptic?” I ask.
The woman eyes me up and down and says, “I think you’ll be fine. The hair is attention-grabbing, but you’re not clearly trying to win his eye. Some of the other women here are more obviously vying for that.” She gestures behind her, where two women are laced into gowns with such little fabric that they’re practically naked, their toned and beautiful bodies on display.
“Nevah,” Venna hisses at the woman.
I level Izabel with a look. “Whatis going on? And remember that I know nothing!”
Izabel sighs, shifting uncomfortably. “I told you, we’re on display during Presentation for the king and the nobles. This is their opportunity to… choose among us, if they’re interested.”
The implication slams into me with the force of an unexpected hit from the ring. Choose among them. Amongus. For… sex.
“That’s disgusting,” I spit out, my stomach twisting. Sure, the Bonded are granted an opulent lifestyle if they survive this training, but at what cost?
Izabel shrugs. “It benefits everyone,” she says, speaking quickly, her cheeks flushing at my judgmental tone. “We get the opportunity to mix with the nobles of the kingdom. I’ve heard that every once in a while, a Rawbond actually makes a match with a noble. And we’re not required to do anything if we don’t want to.”
I wonder if she believes this load of wolf dung. If she’s truly okay with it, or if she too can sense how messed up this is.
Nevah scoffs. “Unless, of course, the king chooses you. That one’s not optional. Every time there are Bonding Trials, King Cyril picks a Rawbond to be his companion, for the duration of the four months.”
My skin crawls. “And that’s why I need to be worried about standing out too much? In case the king of Nocturna decides to turn me into an unwilling sex partner?”
“Don’t worry,” Nevah says, patting me on the arm. “There are too many obviously willing candidates for him to go for you.”
I look again at the women in the flimsy dresses, who are now sending each other icy glares, clearly each put out by the other’s lurid appearance. “Why would anyonewantthat?”
“It’s an honor for our families,” Nevah says, her voice barely masking her own disgust. “You’re supposed to be proud to be one of his chosen.” I notice that Nevah is wearing a dress that fits in with everyone else’s, deep green and cut low at the chest, but not particularly scandalous.
Guess she’s not trying to win the king’s attention, either.
“Go check yourself out in the mirror,” says Venna. “Izabel and I still need to get ready.”
