Spurred into action by my goading, he cinched me up, pulling much harder on the strings than was necessary so my breath was cut off.
“Not…so hard,” I panted. For someone so dull and bookish, he certainly was strong.
“Can’t you breathe well?”
“No.”
“Good. Then maybe you’ll talk less.”
I elbowed him hard in the chest, and an immediate pain stabbed my own chest. We both let out gasps, and Zafir gave a retaliatory jerk on the dress’s strings, but then choked for air and hastily loosened them.
Realization dawned, and I grinned. “Did the vow bond cut off your air just like you were cutting off mine?”
Zafir let out a snort. “How did it feel when you elbowed me? There must’ve been a reason I wanted the vow bond in the first place. And by the way, aren’t you supposed to be married to some insane murderer who tried to kill you? What do you suppose your crazy husband will do if he finds out I was touching his wife?”
“Then at least I wouldn’t be the one to kill you, and I wouldn’t have to direct him to, either. He would just do that on his own.”
“How’s this?” Zafir had tightened the strings to arespectable amount so my figure was trim without cutting off my air supply.
“Perfect.” I smoothed my hands over my neatly tapered waist. “Now what?”
“Now you finish getting ready. Do your hair and makeup.” Zafir pointed to the drawers on his magic wardrobe. “I have paperwork to do, so don’t bother me.” He turned his back on me and sat down at his desk, pulling a dreadfully dull-looking stack of papers toward himself.
My gaze dragged past the long shelves of potions and ingredients. If Zafir wasn’t watching me so closely, I would be able to swipe a few choice items. There were any number of potions I could whip up with all the ingredients available. I could spike one of his drinks to make Zafir more tolerable, alter his emotions…I could even have him singing and dancing with the right elixir. I smiled to myself. It would have to be an incredibly strong dosage to combat his prickly personality.
Zafir looked up. “What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing,” I said, and approached the wardrobe.
When I opened the indicated drawers, I found them loaded with cosmetics, lotions, and combs, but didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with most of them. I knew how to use lip stain and could comb my hair just fine, but makeup wasn’t something I’d ever had before. I supposed I’d had access to such supplies at Rahil’s, but I’d never been in a hurry to impress him and had consequently ignored everything. How was I to know which to choose and how to use it?
I picked up one of the creams and dabbed it on my face, looking into the wardrobe door’s mirror. That looked right. How much was I supposed to use? I added another layer, then dotted some of the pink rouge onto my cheeks but itsmeared as it combined with the cream to make a strange paste that slowly dripped down toward my jaw.
I frowned and leaned closer, trying to correct it, but only succeeded in making it worse. My skin had thick blotches of makeup that caked on in globs and was completely unattractive. Frustrated, I snatched up the lip stain. At least I could figure out that much, but even that looked like the wrong shade. Looking at the color felt like being punched in the eye.
The longer I persisted, the worse everything became until I finally looked like a court jester who’d been caught in a rainstorm.
Eventually, Zafir came over to check on me. “Is everything a joke to you?” he snarled when he saw the poor job I had done. “Are youtryingto sabotage our plan?”
“Some of us weren’t raised in a palace being given everything we wanted,” I snapped back, standing up to grab a cloth and blot at the dripping makeup. “Now, if you wanted me to poison someone or skin and cook a rodent, I’d be highly proficient. But getting all dressed up isn’t in my set of skills.”
Zafir rolled up his sleeves. “Sit down.”
I crossed my arms. Was that his answer to everything? Ordering people around? “No.”
“I’mtryingto help you, you impossible woman! As hard as it is to believe, I don’t actuallywantto be chained to you forever, so for the love of the flaming phoenixes, would you just sit?”
I lowered myself onto the stool. Zafir, grumbling to himself, set about wiping off the makeup job I’d done and scrubbing my face back to how it looked when I’d first emerged from the bath.
“Always start with the skin first,” he huffed. Then heheld my chin and carefully brushed a thin coating of skin-colored cream over my face. We were so close I could see the individual pores dotting his nose. He studied my face after applying it, tilting my head from side to side.
“You have good bone structure,” he announced, leaning back in with a brush. “Use that to your advantage when you contour and highlight.”
“I don’t even know what that means. And where did you learn so much about women’s beauty products?”
“I had an older sister who never stopped talking,” he answered shortly. “Believe me, it was never a desire to learn that fueled this knowledge.”
I leaned away from him so I could rub my temples. Even the light was starting to hurt my eyes.
