Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(12)

Shanti looked down at her starved body, moderately covered by white garments. “I don’t understand. Why I am wearing this if not to…wear it?”

Molly shook her head in exasperation and tossed the corset on the bed in a temper. She carefully snatched up the green dress. “You will be presented in a dress, and that is final. I will not look the fool in front of the Captain, no matter your plans.”

Anger was so uncustomary of the homely woman that Shanti was struck speechless. Before she could protest further, enough fabric to double as a sail cascaded over her head.

“At least you’re skinny and shapely so the dress still looks decent,” Molly was saying as she worked the dress tightly around Shanti’s middle. “I don’t know what we’ll do about the br**sts. You’re young, and they’re perky, but they’re nowhere as high as they should be.”

A metal contraption made a zzzzziiiiieeeee as it worked up her back, securing Shanti into the “fashionable” death trap.

“Now.” Molly stepped in front of her to survey her work. Her eyes lingered on Shanti’s chest, her eyebrows falling. Shaking her head, she moved forward, one hand grabbing the top of the fabric over her br**sts, the other reaching in to grab boob.

“What are you doing?” Shanti exclaimed as she struggled back, trying to get the woman’s hand out of her top.

“You need to move them to the top of the dress! You can’t have them squished down the middle into your waist!”

“I’m fine as I am. I don’t want young people getting the wrong idea, seeing my br**sts.”

“You just can’t—“

Shanti slipped steel into her voice. “No. This will do. I am not here as an ambassador, so I will not strive to adhere to customs. I am a traveler who wants to be on her way.”

Molly’s eyes burned, but, thankfully, she backed off.

It gave Shanti another dose of humility. If she could barely fight off a middle aged, pudgy nursemaid, how would she defend herself against fighting men?

Deep in thought, she didn’t realize Molly was leading her further into the modest house, which she had learned was a residence that occasionally gave aid to those in need or recovering from a malady. Suddenly she was standing in front of a full length mirror and Shanti got her first look at the fashion.

She looked like a shimmery green monster.

The tight bodice hugged her skin, leading down into a skirt shaped like a bell that reached entirely to the ground. It was adorned with layers and ruffles. Then there were the sleeves. Huge bunches of fabric puffed up, nearly to her ear. The only skin exposed was her arms and chest, where her br**sts were apparently supposed to pop out like a child’s toy.

“Why such heavy garments in a hot climate?” Shanti wondered aloud. “And why the peep show but fear of nudity?”

“Well…this is the fashion.”

“Fashion excuses common sense?”

Molly shook her head in frustration again, not daring to travel along the logic road when it pertained to looking the part.

Shanti could always strip if it came to fighting, not that it would help much in her current state. Still, slipping out of the dress would at least mean she’d be able to breathe when they took her down. “Fine. Can we go?”

“Just a minute, dear, almost time. We won’t have time for breakfast—I didn’t anticipate dressing taking so long.” Shanti earned a scowl.

“Why are you not wearing a similar monster costume?”

Molly scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Molly left Shanti standing in utter confusion as she hurried to the kitchen. Shrugging, Shanti had her first look around. Then she gawked. The first thing she noticed was all the leather and wood. It was everywhere. She was familiar with the wooden items—her people had excellent woodworking techniques and trees in plenty--but the leather was something with which she had little experience. Her people weren’t farmers. Their leather items came from wolves and smaller animals, or were traded for extravagant sums. Yet Molly, who didn’t have much, or so she said, had a full set of leather furniture. Not to mention many artifacts that were metal. By Shanti’s standards, this room was cloaked in wealth.

Shanti sauntered over to the couch, the gobs of fabric adorning her person so loud she’d have to ask her enemies to plug their ears so she could sneak by. What a ridiculous fashion these people employed. Like most ceremonial dress, it was completely without purpose. It was also extremely uncomfortable. It was work just to wear the stuff.

Shaking her head, she felt the leather. Soft as an infant’s backside. And squishy. It was more inviting than a feast.

As she was about to sink into the welcoming leather, Molly screeched. “You’ll be all creases!”

“Do you stop sitting after you get dressed up?” Shanti asked in confusion, butt halfway to the cushion.

“You have to know how to sit, or else you’ll look like a day old kitten!”

“Your people trap themselves in garments that don’t allow them to breathe, let alone move naturally, showing parts of skin that make young boys crazy, then forbid sitting unless a new approach is learned? Are you playing a roark on me? A…what’s the word…joke?”

Molly was shaking her head again, dragging Shanti to the door while shoving a biscuit into her mouth. “The Captain expects it.”