Page 34 of Golden Queen
Barrett, Anetta, and Raitha had quieted. They were all looking at Igraine with some tenderness in their eyes. It made me wonder if they knew the story of Igraine's lost virginity and felt sorrow for her because of it.
"My first time was horrible!" Barrett spoke up. "It was one of my mother's friends. Terrible, smelly, creature. It's no wonder I ended up so very, very gay."
I looked at him sympathetically, feeling suddenly sorry for him to have been taken advantage of by an older woman.
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "She didn't force me. I snuck intoherroom in the middle of the night."
I snorted, surprised, and wine almost shot out of my nose from the drink I was swallowing.
Raitha gave Barrett a doubtful look that said she didn't necessarily agree with his assessment of the situation.
When he ignored her, she turned to me. "My first time was in a barn with a boy who had no idea what he was doing. He kept trying to put it in, and I kept stopping him in a panic. The first time, I ran away. When we tried again later, I did the very same thing. I shoved him off the very moment I felt pain. We tried it so many times, that by the time I got the nerve to go ahead with it, it just went right in—no pain, no fuss. I didn't even bleed."
Anetta looked at Raitha in wonder. "Are you saying you've still got your maidenhead, Raith? You've just...what...stretched it out?"
Raitha laughed, leaning forward, holding her stomach. "I don't know. I've always wondered that."
"That doesn't seem possible," Barrett said. "Anatomically speaking, I mean."
"You have to let us check," Anetta said.
"Not a chance! It's not like you'll be able to tell now anyway!" Raitha started backing away, waving her hands, but she was laughing as well.
As the three of them debated the status of Raitha's maidenhead, Igraine took me to Anetta's closet, opening the wide double doors to reveal yards and yards of colorful gowns. "Now then," she said, reaching for one with a sheer black lace overlay. "Let's prepare the virgin for her true sacrifice.”
As she handed me the least virginal dress I had ever seen in my life, I wondered again about what had made her face go so wistful and sad.
It wasn't until I remembered how passionately supportive Igraine was of forming a Courtesan's Guild in Windemere, that I put the two ideas together in my mind. A guild, like the one the stonemasons had, protected the rights of the workers and gave them a voice in the kingdom. Igraine wanted the guild to protect children from being forced into the sex trade, because she had been one of them herself.
Even in my alcohol-infused brain, the horror I felt at what my friend had likely gone through, turned into fierce, gravitating resolve. I would change this kingdom, no matter what, and people like Igraine would help me do it.
By the time I stood outside the Mouse's Ear, in the chilly evening air, wearing an exquisitely detailed, flesh-colored gown with a sheer black lace overlay, I was plastered. Swaying on my feet, fuzzy-headed plastered.
The unfamiliar sensation of the corset with its barely-there sheer cups and incredibly tiny, lacy underpants caused chills to run across my skin everywhere the thin dress raked against my newly bare flesh.
A carriage rolled up and my heart leapt into my throat. I surged forward, on the point of opening the door to hop inside when it opened by itself. A startled man appeared, his dark, wavy hair swept to the side rakishly over vivid green eyes.
"Oops, wrong people," I said, backing away.
The man's face lit with a staggering grin as he ducked out of the carriage and surveyed me. "I am happy to escort you inside so that perhaps we can locate the correct people," he said airily, his grin shifting to a lopsided one.
"Oh...uh, no, thank you," I said, returning the smile and sketching a small, ridiculous bow. I nearly pitched forward under the weight of my own thick head.
The man's hand shot out to catch me, encircling my upper arm. He smiled as he pulled me to his side. "Let me help you," he said quietly, holding me close as he turned back to the carriage.
"No, you're not my person," I said, scoffing. Words seemed quite difficult to manage all of a sudden.
"Yes, of course I am," he said. "This isyourcarriage."
With startling clarity, I realized what he was doing. He was trying to trick me into getting into his carriage. He believed I was much more intoxicated than I was. He believed I was helpless.
I would show him just how helpless I was. I yanked my arm free.
When he moved to reach for me again, I made a fist and popped him in the nose. My knuckles impacted with a satisfying crunch that sent him reeling backwards, his stylish waves coming unstuck from where they had been plastered onto his head.
He grunted, reaching up to hold his nose. Blood was already leaking around his fingers. "Bitch," he ground out, and then he surprised me by swinging his arm out at me angrily. "Fucking bitch," he cursed, the words muffled behind the hand over his nose.
I moved back and the man followed, bringing his arm up to strike at me again. Something caught that arm in midair, though. A look of shock crossed his features as a very large fae man appeared at my side.
