Page 133 of Alpha's Impostor Bride

Leanna Avery

Everyone around me keeps forgetting that I received the same royal education as Vivian. After all, I had to pose as her at times, so I couldn’t exactly be a bumbling commoner. That would have humiliated her. As a result, I know how to study royal trends when it comes to dresses and etiquette. I may have been out of the game for a long time, but that doesn’t mean my skills have grown rusty.

The dresses that Harriet has prepared for me are not in touch with the trending royal fashion that all the noble families in the East and in the human world are following. Since the Northern Kingdom is the most isolated of them all, I have a feeling that Vivian does not have the kind of access to the latest styles that I do. And I fully intend to take advantage of that. After all, in high society, for a female, her clothes are her biggest weapon.

Harriet isn’t insulted when I reject her dress choices. I do some research and call upon a few designers. Since I have to assert my position as Cedric’s mate, it would be best to start the rumor mill now. So, instead of visiting the designers, I summon them to the palace. I force Cedric to accompany me, and while he doesn’t complain, I can sense he’s not interested. At least not until I actually start trying on the dresses.

As soon as I start modeling them for him, he can’t take his eyes off me. He truly has changed. There was a time when he could hide his feelings so carefully, and now here he is, unable to do so. Adoration is written all over his face, and the designers keep glancing between the two of us, amused by his reactions.

“I’ll take this one.” I point at a midnight blue dress that is off the shoulder but covers my back. The dress has crushed diamonds sewn into it, and it shimmers with every movement. Inspecting my roots in the full-length mirror, I add, “I’ll also have to dye my hair.”

“Will you grow it long again?”

Cedric’s question has me looking over at him. “Would you like me to?”

He walks over and gently grabs a fistful of my hair in his hand. He meets my gaze in the mirror, his expression dead serious. “I don’t get a good grip with this length.”

My eyes widen, my face growing a deep read. “Cedric!”

Harriet is shaking her head, and the two designers and their assistants are trying to hide their giggles. It’s more than obvious to everyone what he means.

I bat his hand away. “Stop it.”

My mate gives me a hurt look. “But—”

“We’ll discuss this in private!” I hiss at him, mortified.

However, he’s equally stubborn. “Harriet, how long will it take for her to grow her hair out?”

“If she stops cutting it, perhaps two months. Of course, it depends on how long you want it.”

“You mean, how long I want it.” I glare at my mate, who grabs a fistful of it again, as if to show me what he means.

“For the love of the Goddess, Cedric—” I begin, and Harriet clears her throat.

“King Cedric, perhaps you should let the queen pick out her accessories now.”

But one of the designers chooses this moment to jump in. “If Her Majesty desires, I have an excellent hairstylist who will be more than happy to give you extensions.”

“No,” I reply shortly. Cedric sits down with a heavy sigh, and I roll my eyes at him. “Get over it. If you don’t like my hair—”

“I like your hair,” he cuts me off. “I’d just like it more a little bit longer.”

“I’ll think about it,” I inform him before beginning the process of selecting jewelry and shoes. It takes me a whole day to get fully outfitted, and Cedric doesn’t leave my side for even a minute.

Once we’re alone, Harriet has our dinner served to us. Finn is already in bed, bored with the dresses. I tried to include him, but he was more interested in going outside and playing with Derrick.

I finally broach the subject as the grilled meat and potatoes are set before us. “I’m willing to change my hair, Cedric, but I don’t want it to be as long as before.”

My mate looks surprised. “I don’t need it to be the same length. Just a little longer than it is now.”

Cedric isn’t one to make requests like this, so I’m willing to humor him. “I can change the color back to—”

“No,” he says quickly. “I like the color.”

I smile at him. “Really?”

He cuts the meat on his plate and exchanges it for the one in front of me. “I want you to remain the way you are now. And if you don’t want to grow your hair out, you don’t have to.”

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