“Perhaps my attendants should dress you in a different gown.” As he leads her away by the small of her back, I resist the urge to slice off his hand.
It takes me several seconds to drag myself back to the chairs. When I finally get there, my head falls into my hands, and I scrub my palms over my face. If her goal tonight is to drive me insane, she’s doing it.
I haven’t forgotten the way she rubbed her soft arse against me at the cake stall.
Or the way her eyes found mine as she slid that icing-covered finger inside her?—
“Tauren.”
I lift my head to see Girabalt standing in front of me, and he’s not happy.
Unluckily for him, I’m not either. “Do you have a death wish? Tell me the gown was not your idea?”
“The princess has a very creative mind,” he muses.
Any other faerie and I’d knock him to the floor. Peace treaty be damned. But Girabalt and I have been friends since we were children, though we won’t be for much longer if Dahlia comes out in another see-through dress.
The smile falls from his face as he studies me. “I asked your bride if she needed my help in the changing room.”
This time, I spring up, ready to punch him. Until my brain catches up with my fists, and I let out a breath. Girabalt’s been married to his husband for years. He’s not interested in any princesses, let alone mine. “What kind of help?” I manage.
He gives me a look. “Normal brides don’t walk into my shop with collars around their necks.” His stare hardens. “I asked her if she needed help getting away from you.”
Panic grips me. I storm towards the changing room, half-expecting to find it empty.
A firm hand on my shoulder stops me before I can tear open the curtain. “She said she didn’t need my help.” Dragging me back to the seats, Girabalt forces me down. “But it looks like you might.” He laughs knowingly.
Air lodges in my throat. I should’ve been more careful about bringing her here. I should’ve known Girabalt wouldn’t approve of the sacrifices I’d make to rescue my sister.
But then what he said hits me. “She didn’t accept your help?”
He shakes his head. “She said, ‘the Tauren situation is under control’, and after seeing your reaction to the gown she chose, I think I understand what’s happening here.” He chuckles before his tone turns serious. “But, Tauren, the collar needs to be removed. I don’t know what the circumstances of this wedding are, but I cannot sit here and allow you to keep an innocent woman prisoner.”
Innocent? After what she did tonight, I almost laugh. But the weight of Girabalt’s stare is enough to flatten my tone. “The collar is a necessary precaution until I can trust her not to run from me.”
“That is no way to win a lady’s heart.”
My jaw tenses. “I am not interested in her heart.”
“Really?” My friend smirks. “Then perhaps you will see no issue with her next gown choice.”
I narrow my gaze, but the curtain to the changing room opens before I can reply.
My chest seizes. If I thought the previous gown was bad, this one has crawled straight up from the depths of hell.
“I love it,” Dahlia beams, swaying her hips with each step.
I force down a groan. One tiny white band of fabric covers her nipples, while her lower body is completely bare aside from the long, narrow strip of fabric covering her sex, hanging from a chain around her waist. Silver, chain-like straps decorate her shoulders, while a matching strip of white fabric teases the seam of her rear.
I shoot a murderous glare at Girabalt, who holds up his palms innocently. What kind of twisted bride would even want a dress like this for her wedding?
Dahlia catches my gaze, grinning wickedly.
Mine, apparently.
“Leave us,” I bark at Girabalt, not taking my eyes off the gown.
“Are you sure that is wise?” His voice lowers.
