Page 9 of WitchCurse
“Mustn’t scare the locals,” I said. “‘Mummy, what is happening to that devilishly handsome creature? He’s being eaten away from the inside out. Horrifying.’”
Nick rewarded me with a light chuckle. “Devilishly handsome, are you?”
“Of course. I was a prince after all. Beauty was a badge of the court.” Though not one I’d ever basked in.
Inside the shop, things were very organized into folded piles. At least there was only the keeper and us. The keeper, a youngish man, greeted Dylan with a familiar hello.
“Good to see you,” the young man said. “How’s Sean?”
“He’s okay, mostly. Lots of therapy,” Dylan said. He waved at us. “These two need some transition threads. Winter to spring, maybe a few things for summer if you have them already?”
The keeper approached, and I took a step back, not wanting anyone close. Nick held my hand tight and took the lead, smoothing his subtle strength over my glamour shield. “Sweaters would be ideal. Maybe a few zip up kind? Kiran is always cold,” Nick said.
The keeper nodded, taking in the friendly smile of my scion, the human’s gaze lingering over the wide breadth of his shoulders, thick muscles, and narrow waist. I frowned, not liking my scion examined like a slab of meat, and tugged our woven hands forward in silent claim. He was the only thing that had ever been mine. Bound to me, willingly, no one could tear him from me, and I found that made me a bit more possessive than I was used to. Nick squeezed my hand, his smile wide. Foolish man.
“Let me grab a stack of things for you to try on.” The keeper pointed toward a side area hallway. “Changing rooms are there. The one in the back should have plenty of room for both of you.”
“That will be great,” Nick said and dragged me down the narrow lighted hall and to a large mirrored box at the end. He opened the door and shoved me inside, waiting near the entrance to the room. I glared at my reflection, looking too ordinary next to the pretty warrior. Should I change the glamour?
“Leave it,” Nick said. “You look fine.”
“I look like me, mostly,” I said staring into the reflection. The pale and unmarked skin uninteresting at the very least. How did mortals find other mortals so attractive when they all lived with such ordinary and undecorated skin and plain hair? The glamour didn’t add any bulk, simply reflected what I was without the rot.
With my magic reserves low, the glamour could only cover the basics. I couldn’t hide how thin I’d gotten, but I worked hard to keep the color of my skin hidden and the gaunt stretch of my face. Nick’s size didn’t use to overshadow mine. Long ago we had sparred, and I had trained him with every bit of knowledge in battle I had gained in my long life, before the blight had taken over and stolen my strength. This projected form appeared unremarkable, but mostly me.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Nick said.
The keeper appeared with a few stacks of clothing. Dylan behind him with his arms full as well. “I have a few pants sizes to try, but the tops should fit,” he offered and left us with the stacks set on the bench behind us.
“I’m out here if you need me,” Dylan offered, and swung the door shut.
Nick released his hand from mine. The glamour flickered a little, but I locked it down, keeping my skin looking pale and boring.
“I like the real you. Your hair wouldn’t be all that unusual, the shades of blue like a really good dye job,” Nick said as he sorted through the stack. “Try these on first. I want to give them a size.” He held out a pair of trousers in a stiff dark blue. “Jeans. They’re called jeans.”
I tugged off the clothing I’d been gifted from the fox and his mate, gray soft pants and a long-sleeved top, nothing special, leaving on the small underclothes beneath. Comfortable, not court wear, though I had yet to see the fox or his wolf call an actual court affair.
“I’m not sure they would know how,” Nick said, helping me into the jeans. He tugged them up around my hips, briefly kneeling in front of me. I clamped down hard on my shields to keep him out of my head. “I hate when you lock me out.” He buttoned the trousers and tugged at them a little, hands examining my hips and buttocks. “Inseam is a bit snug. Let’s try the others.”
“What is an inseam?” I did not loosen my shields as he peeled the trousers off, leaving me with nothing but the thin fabric over my groin. Not that my body responded to anything these days, the starvation and blight devouring all sensation, but Nick at my feet required a lot of mental restraint.
“The space here,” Nick said, swept his hand between my thighs and dangerously close to my groin. “To the floor. The idea is not to pinch or sag.”
Pinch or sag, I said to myself trying to make sense of the words. Human language was very imprecise. He tugged a new pair of trousers on me, sliding them up my hips and buttoned them. They were a bit more like a sort of pant I might have worn previously, with less ties, but not as soft and comfortable as the gray pants were.
“This looks good. How do they feel? Snug anywhere?” Nick asked, hands again roaming all over me without hesitation.
“Not as comfortable as the gray pants,” I said.
“Nothing is as comfortable as sweatpants, but you can’t live in them.”
“No?” I wondered why not. Mayhap there would be a court calling soon?
“No. They are considered very informal, sort of like sleepwear. And, these look good on you.” Nick stood and reached to the edge of the trouser top, flipping the edge to read the small writing. “Let me tell them the size and we’ll start on the tops while they get more jeans.”
“What about you?” I inquired. Nick left the camper more, was learning to exist in this strange new world he’d been ripped from as a child. He should have more modern things than I would ever need.
“Let me worry about me,” Nick said.
