Page 55 of Royal Captive
Calten pulled me out of the way of a horse and cart and onto the threshold of a shop with a rainbow of flowing, colorful fabrics displayed in the window. None of the buildings had actual doors, which I thought was interesting. How did you keep thieves and beggars out?
The answer was glaringly simple: there weren’t any. “To the common folk here, you’re Eve. Back at the manor you’re Princess. That’s not so hard now, is it?”
He pushed me forward into the shop, a wave of heat hitting me from a small brazier set up just inside the door.
“Marcell! New girl!” Calten called into the depths of the shop, shedding his outer cloak and gloves, and hanging them on a small rack by the door.
It was stifling here with the brazier.
I followed mutely behind him, taking off my cloak as well while staring at all the garments. Pants, tunics, dresses, skirts … it was all here and in every shade of color and every fabric imaginable, in no particular order. How were you supposed to find anything?
My hand reached out toward a pale blue dress covered in shimmering white diamonds. Surely only the fae were allowed to shop here, or were the only ones who could afford it?
“Calten! You didn’t tell me you were coming! Naughty boy!”
A middle-aged man and his wife emerged from the back of the shop. Both had graying hair that was once brown, but that wasn’t what caught my eye first. The rich, green silk of the woman’s dress matched her eyes perfectly, which sparkled at me just as much as the expensive gems sewn into her gown.
It was probably worth more than anything I’d seen a member of the royal family back in the Northern Kingdom wear!
Her husband was more understated, but not by much. The cut of the velvet was impeccable, both his tunic and trousers fitting him perfectly. Was that gold thread lining his pants and cufflinks?
“Sorry for the late notice. You know how Prince Shyllon is,” Calten grumbled good-naturedly, the small smile at the corner of his mouth giving him away.
The wife eyed me curiously. “There have been rumors that—”
“This is Eve,” Calten cut across her, grabbing my hand and bringing me forward. “She needs … Well, everything.”
The woman blanched, and the man blinked.
“Everything?” he asked slowly, eyes widening.
Calten smirked. “Everything.”
My lips parted as I whipped around to face him. “What? Why? There is an entire wardrobe of things back at the manor!” I argued, distressed at having to owe anyone anything, let alone the amount it would take to buy an entire wardrobe of the quality here.
“The wardrobe at Shyllon’s is full of things! They might not all fit me, but this hardly seems necessary.” I tried to appeal to the faces around me, but they looked bemused. “Isn’t there someone else who needs such garments? Surely there is someone else. Someone in desperate need of clothes?”
The wife gave me a slow look, up and down, and raised one eyebrow.
My face flushed red as wine.
Calten laughed. “You are in need, Eve. Look at you! In a white shift a foot too short for you, with borrowed boots and borrowed cloaks. The inconsistent sizes do nothing for your stature.”
I still couldn’t believe that was their biggest concern.
“You’re telling me there isn’t a poor woman somewhere who could make better use of them?” I picked at the edges of my cloak, which were worn but still perfectly serviceable. “I have clothes. Surely, there are those who don’t?”
Calten chuckled. “What are you going on about? Do you think there are people running around out there with no clothes? How ridiculous. That isn’t actually a thing where you’re from. You’re lying.”
Marcell and his wife gave polite chuckles, but my mind reeled.
“What? You’re saying there’s no—no poor here?” I squeaked out, desperately confused. “You’re all slaves, though. Right?” The last word was a whisper, because my perception of reality was spinning so far out of control, I wasn’t certain of anything anymore.
Calten gave me a pat on the head, but it wasn’t mocking. He was frowning in mild confusion. “They insist we are slaves. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have basic needs taken care of. As long as we work for a fae, they provide.”
It sounded so simple. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Your basic needs. How do you buy food and clothing?” I asked.
