Page 91 of Forcing Fate

“You want me to wear my own boots?”

They were soft, tanned, calfskin leather, nothing like the thick black ones everyone else was receiving.

He leveled his glare on me. “Did I stutter?”

“No, sir,” I bit out, glaring right back for all I was worth.

“Ah,” the secretary let out a relieved sigh. “From here on out, you are required to wear only the uniform and no other personal accessories. Please dispose of your belongings, as you are no longer a civilian, but a soldier in the ranks of the King’s army. The changing area is around the corner. Please proceed.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

So that was it? Once I changed into this uniform, I was a soldier?

“Go!”

I jumped at General Rafe’s barked command and rushed to the side of the building. Sheets hung from a series of ropes as makeshift curtains, providing separate changing stalls. The breeze tugged at the sheets, showing glimpses of men in various states of undress.

My gaze hit the ground at record speed as fire nipped at my ears.

They were naked.

I was supposed to change behind that flimsy curtain?

Someone ran into my shoulder, and I looked up to see the bounty hunter walking away. I picked up my feet, following him. I knew I probably seemed like a lost puppy, but I had no idea what to do.

He went to the furthest set of curtains, ducking inside. I dodged into the makeshift stall beside his and stood there, frozen. The curtain blew in the breeze, offering a clear view of all the men milling about.

“Trousers on under your dress.”

I stared at the sheet separating me from the bounty hunter. His silhouette shifted on the other side, but the fabric concealed him enough. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I placed the belt and tunic on the ground and stepped into the trousers. I mentally cursed myself when I realized the tie was in the back. Switching legs, I faced the fly in the front and yanked them up.

They were so large they slipped off under my dress. I gathered them in my fist and glanced up. No one outside attempted to peer in at me. Safe for now.

“Turn around and get the tunic on.” The bounty hunter’s raspy voice guided me. As I reached for the tunic, he moved in front of the opening to my stall with his back to me, blocking me from view.

“Hurry, now,” he said, adjusting his belt.

I turned around and yanked my dress over my head and scrambled to pull the tunic on. My movements were frantic as I punched my arms through the sleeves. Dropping my dress, I cursed aloud.

“Hmm?”

I ignored his question and spread my legs wide as the trousers fell to my knees. The tunic reached past my thighs. It had an open neck with a set of laces that dipped low on my chest. I rushed to tighten them as much as I could, then stuffed the tunic into the trousers. The legs were far too long. They covered my boots and flapped as I shook my leg. I shuffled my feet, pushing them through as I yanked the trousers high against my ribs.

Muttering about having to tailor my uniform, I plucked up the belt and shoved it through the loops on the trousers. I ran my fingers along the leather strip, searching for the smallest hole.

The smallest hole was a handspan too large.

“Got it?”

“No!” I snapped.

I bent down to roll the hem of my trousers to my ankles. When I straightened, I clutched my belt with one hand and held my dress in the other.

“This is as good as it’s going to get,” I groaned.

The bounty hunter turned around and broke into a laugh.

The tan tunic billowed around me, four times too big. Laces were drawn up to my neck, finished with a bow. The trousers swallowed my frame, and one hem threatened to unroll. I had a death grip on my belt because if I let go, my trousers would puddle around my boots. I blew a stray hair out of my face and glared.

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