“What was your favorite gift?” Maddox asks.
Heavens, he looks so intrigued, and that makes this so much worse. He’s going through all this trouble to try to win this woman’s heart, and the man I was with for four years couldn’t even be bothered to rip a few flowers from the ground.
“Oh, I could hardly choose. Why don’t we go to town and see if there’s anything you think she’d like?”So you can stop looking at me like I have all the answers.Who even am I to give advice on love? I’m a bloody fraud.
“Right now?”
“Why not? I need to see Madame Ella to collect a new dress anyway. Let’s go.” Before I say something silly and out myself for the liar I am.
12
Maddox
“Lethan Wolves have been known to stalk their prey for great distances before going for the kill.”
— Surviving the Unseelie Lands, Author Unknown
Although there are many fine garments in this Madame Ella’s shop, none would suit an Unseelie female, imaginary or not. The skirts are too long and could get caught beneath their boots, making them treacherous when fleeing danger. Then there is the fabric: it is too thin and whimsical, like the Seelie fae themselves, not suitable for the sturdy and shapeless garments worn by our females. Our land is much cooler and very damp, forever on the verge or in the throes of winter. These silks would not fare well in the rain or snow.
However, this shop carries more than dresses. So many items line the shelves, like belts made of good, sturdy leather, and tiny slippers for tiny Seelie feet. How does anyone choose? There are so many things to see all in one room.
Like this. What is this? It looks like a small hat, but there is a spot for a second head, which makes no sense.
Nia comes around the corner and freezes next to one of the many headless bodies made of wood. They are terrifying, the makings of a nightmare. I would not have liked to enter this place as a youngling, that is for certain.
“Why is there a bra on your head?” she snaps.
What is a bra?
She snatches the hat away, her cheeks as pink as the fabric draped over a long table of boxes with more garments inside. By the far wall, one of the headless bodies wears a similar hat, not on its head (it has none), but over its large chest.
“It is for breasts.” The design makes far more sense now. Females have two of those.
“What else would it be for?” Nia chokes, stuffing the bra back into the box I retrieved it from. “Have you never seen a bra?”
“Unseelie females use cloth to band their chests.” They have no need for this bra.
“Same concept, but these are prettier.” Her silvery blue skirts shimmer as she rounds the table and continues to a till resting on a stone countertop.
Does this mean Nia Quill is wearing such lace beneath her beautiful dress?
This excursion was a mistake.
Almost as big of a mistake as my misunderstanding of number eight on her list.
Who knew females could spill seeds as well? This is not something I have heard discussed around the hunting fires. The other males boast about many feats of mating but never this “finishing.”
I am lucky that Nia has been so thorough in her explanations.
If only there was a real female I could use them on.
Perhaps once she and her Nolan are mated, my heart will be released from her grasp, and I can find someone of my own. If that happens, I will be sure to do exactly as Nia has advised to win my female’s affection.
A Seelie with lines at the corners of her eyes emerges from a door near the back of the shop. Her hair is as red as a robin’s breast, as is the matching paint on her lips. Rings and bangles glisten from her hands when she claps them together.
Why does she wear so many? Are they for sale as well?
“Nia, dearest, you’ve been holding out on me. Who is this handsome fellow?” she asks.
