Page 115 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

Astin is a walking air elemny stereotype. He gives nothing away and doesn’t seem to talk about himself, his life, or anything outside of serving Prince Reen. But I see their banter, which is weird because Prince Reen seems irritated while Astin shows fucking nothing. Is that why Prince Reen gets bothered by him?

“Why?” I say.

Astin opens the first clothing shop door, saying, “Showing emotion is exhausting and drains me. You don’t use that much energy when you don’t force emotions that don’t come naturally to you.”

He is weird.

I am not interested in pushing him for answers when I know he won’t give me any, so I roam the shop. Clothes clutter every inch of the store and clog my senses. Dresses line the walls, shirts and jeans stack over each other, and through it all, there’s an overwhelming scent of sandalwood and dust mites.

We don’t stay in that shop for long.

Elemny notice me when we walk down the street. It’s weird for me. My entire life consisted of hiding, and even with Xavier, I kept my circle of friends small. But since Prince Reen and Alad’s plan to make us a “couple”, elemny gawk at me more often.

“Does the staring get better?”

Astin points to another clothing shop, which seems more promising, with tall glass windows showcasing sparkling dresses.

“It does when you stop looking for it,” he says.

It seems hard to do.

Astin holds the door for me, and I’m more at ease when we enter this shop. Mannequins display formal clothes along the walls, and vibrant colours dance across silken fabrics.

The woman behind the counter snaps her greedy eyes onto me and bounds over with a beaming smile. “May I help you?”

I tear my gaze away from a frilly pink dress and face her. “I need a formal dress.”

She smiles, but there’s humour in her silver eyes. “Preference?”

“Uh…”

“What is this dress for? A wedding? Dinner? And will you be alone?”

“I’m going to a function and won’t be going alone.”

Her eyes crinkle. “The mutt, correct?”

“Prince Reen,” I say through pressed lips.

Without a care, she spins on her heels and says, “Then I have the dress for you. Since seeing you all over social media, I have wondered what type of dress would fit you.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” I say drily.

She laughs. “Please. It’s my job to give everyone the perfect dress. So…here!”

The woman gestures to a mini white dress that would hug every part of my body, showing everything I would fucking lack to offer. Not only that, but I can imagine seeing the burns seeping out from underneath the dress; it’s that short.

I arch a brow and say, “No.”

Her silver eyes narrow. “No?”

“No,” I say with more confidence than I should. “I want a longer dress, and I want it to be red.”

“Red?” she says flatly.

I smile at her. “If Prince Reen—the mutt you so happen to call him—grows angry and kills someone, it would ruin the dress. Show me the fucking red dresses.”

Astin eyes me and then looks away.