Wicked Honey

Chapter 6 - Salted Earth

I wake with a start to the sight of cleavage—soft mounds of brown skin glowy as sand dunes at sunset, framed in peacock blue.

The warm-toned flesh of an uplander. The fine silks of a royal.

That creamy-spiced-mango vitei.

Chiara.

Jerking upright, I clutch the blankets around my naked torso. Glare at her as she rises from her kneeling position at my bedside, reaching out towards a stray lock of hair that falls before my face.

I bat her hand away.

"What the high hells are you doing in my room?"

I'm too freshly awake, too startled to worry about my tone. To pay heed to the memory of my father's warnings.

"I was going to wake you with a gentle caress of your honeyed locks," she says, a spark of amusement in her eye.

"And I'm going to need you to learn some boundaries immediately or else I'm going to try to murder you, fail, get executed, and then you're going to have to marry that Battisti asshole. You don't touch me without my permission. And you don't let yourself into my room when I'm asleep, unless it's on fire or something. Understood?"

She rolls her eyes, fingers tapping her upper arm rhythmically. "Yes, yes. Understood."

"And you don't use your Blessing to manipulate me without my permission, either."

"A lot of it I can't even fully help, you know. It's just secon—"

"No," I say, tone firm. "You are a master Bard. You can control yourself."

A heavy sigh. A pause. And then—"Yes, alright. Fine." She unfolds her arms to make a dismissive gesture before turning from me.

"In any case, I just wanted to give you a moment to gather yourself before the stylist, Perfumer, and Shields all arrive. As for something to eat, I thought you'd prefer to cook your own meal right before a challenge. I've had a Gourmand's studio set up and stocked for you."

"You thought right," I say grudgingly. "Wait, Shields?"

"Of course. You're consort to the Heir Premier, now. Royalty. I've selected your two already."

Royalty. The word grates my bones, tastes of bile.

"May I at least offer you one boon, to boost your chances?"

I narrow my eyes at her, but I don't taste deceit or trickery behind her words.

"Fine," I grate, narrowing my eyes as she breaks into a beatific smile. Lightly, she steps up to me, brushes her lips to my ears, and whispers in a voice like threads of hand-spun gold.

"You're going to come out on top of this."

Stars dance before my vision. A shiver races down my spine.

"You're my champion."

I nearly sag into her arms as an unbearably radiant glow suffuses my essence, my blood, my bones—but catch myself at the last moment and narrow my eyes to scowl at her instead.

Then she whirls and leaves me to myself, skirts flowing around her and gilded hair flashing in the dim lantern light.

~~~

The subtle aromas of creamy coco, clove and spruce cling to my skin as two of my four new Shields accompany me to my personal Gourmand's studio. I've had to admit to myself that I rather like the Perfumer Chiara imposed on me. At first, I'd outright refused his services like I had the Masseur's, but again—I'd been worn down and agreed to meet with him.