Page 26 of His Bride

“We don’t have a lot of dresses. I do have a latex skirt that would fit you nicely. You have a tight ass and a nice rack.”

I am horrified that someone would speak to me so boldly.

“You want to get started on the Kings Corner, don’t you?” He asks the question in response to my stunned stare.

“What do you mean?”

“Fresh to the city, ready to earn some money selling what nature gave you? You’re pretty. And you look innocent. Don’t worry. You’ll be popular.”

My pre-existing sense of horror deepens. I have never heard of such a thing in all my life. I understand what he is suggesting, and it is disgusting. He is looking at me as though I am nothing more than a piece of meat to be traded.

“I am not for sale!” I say, haughty.

“Oh, are you not?”

“Certainly not! I am an Artifice bride.”

I’ve never used that phrase before, but that’s what I am. I am a woman elevated in status by being chosen by the Artifice itself. There are very few women who can claim that fact.

“So you were sold. You just weren’t paid,” he smirks. He’s unimpressed by my status, but that’s because he doesn’t know who I am. “But that body belongs to a man, doesn’t it?”

“Well, that’s… I don’t think. When you put it that way. I mean… how dare you.”

He laughs, thoroughly amused. He thinks this is funny because he doesn’t know I live inside an armory absolutely filled with soldiers.

“You’d be surprised what I dare, kitten,” he says, speaking far too familiarly.

“Not with me. I am a married, matched woman, and I am not the sort to wear whatever it is you are trying to sell here.”

“Your husband’s mistress will if you won’t,” the awful man says. He seems to enjoy taunting me, which must be very counterintuitive to making money. This is the worst sales pitch I have ever been subjected to.

“My husband is an honorable man! How dare you make such insinuations? I will make you pay for this insolence!”

He laughs at me. “You? With your country accent? How do you think you’ll make me pay?”

“I’ll tell my husband.”

“You go ahead and tell your husband, country mouse, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Yes, we will see what happens,” I say as he looms over me.

“You have a lot to learn about life in this city. You go to the wrong places, annoy the wrong people, you end up in the river.”

“What? Swimming?”

“With the fishes,” he says, as if that’s a threat.

“Maybe I like fish,” I say, confused as to how to continue the argument, but very much wanting to win it. “Maybe I’ll cook some fish. Too late for you, though, mister. Your goose is already cooked. I’m married to…”

At that point, Lydia suddenly appears, claps her hand around my mouth, and bodily hauls me out of the store.

“Don’t throw the Archon-General’s name around casually,” she says. “Especially when arguing with filth-mongers.”

“Are you here to protect me, or to protect his reputation?” I hiss the question once the shock wears off. “You let me go in there, and you didn’t intervene even when he said terrible things to me. He was talking to me like I am a…” I lower my voice, but my scandalized whisper carries anyway. “Aprostitute!”

“That will serve as a lesson not to run off without me. I cannot protect you if you make stupid decisions. Besides, it is a good idea for you to learn that this city is not here to cater to you personally. This is a living, breathing entity, and it does not care about you.”

I stare at her, shocked and annoyed. “I want to go home,” I announce.

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