Chapter 28 -- Venice, Italy; 7 August 1650

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"Is that comfortable?" Carissa asks, violently pulling the strings on Lindsey's corset.

Lindsey gasps as the piece of clothing wraps itself around her and strangles her like a snake, but after she takes a moment to regain her breath, she nods. "Yes, that should be fine."

"Then it's not tight enough," Carissa argues, pulling the strings tighter. Lindsey squeals, and Carissa ties the strings together despite the look of extreme discomfort on Lindsey's face.

I can't help but laugh at the way that Lindsey's face is twisted and Carissa's smug expression. "Consider yourself lucky that you've never been a princess, Scotty," Lindsey growls in response to my chuckling.

I don't understand why Lindsey needs a corset at all, or anyone, for that matter. Is the appeal to look underfed? Even Lindsey, who's spent years on an island by herself with little to nothing to eat, apparently doesn't have a thin enough waistline. I can only imagine how tightly Kirstin is going to tie hers. Her waistline may disappear completely. I snicker at the thought of Captain Lewis's entire crew trying fruitlessly to get the corset even tighter than humanly possible. She's so vain that my vision probably isn't that far from the truth.

"Love, you're going to need to take that eyepatch off sooner or later," Carissa tsks as she rummages through a wardrobe filled with ballroom dresses of every color imaginable. She has quite the collection, and the fact that she just had these laying around in a wardrobe in her bedroom suggests that she's quite the party animal.

Lindsey stiffens even more in the tight corset. "I would prefer not to, thank you."

"But an eyepatch? To a ball?" Carissa asks.

"A masquerade ball," Lindsey points out. "The eyepatch will serve as my mask."

"But..." Carissa begins, looking to me for help. I just shake my head slightly, a sign not to argue with the princess. "Whatever you say, Your Highness."

At the formal title, Lindsey's face scrunches up as if she'd tasted sour milk, but she says nothing, presumably deciding that she'll have to get used to it eventually.

"What color dress would you like to wear tonight?" Carissa asks, delicately feeling the material of a few of Lindsey's possible suitors.

Lindsey shrugs, though it looks awkward in the corset. "White?"

"How about maroon? Or violet? Something dark, maybe," Carissa offers, ignoring Lindsey's request.

"I'd rather just wear something light and simple," Lindsey mutters.

"Oh! How about this one?" Carissa asks, pulling a frilly and almost obnoxious red dress from the closet that, to be frank, is neither light nor simple.

"Um...it's pretty?" Lindsey offers with a shrug. She makes her way to the wardrobe and points at a cream-colored dress with embroidered flowers on the breast area and a bottom that flares out into a mess of tulle. "Could I wear this?"

"Well, I suppose," Carissa says, obviously disappointed at Lindsey's choice of a colorless dress. "But it's a rose themed ball, don't you think you should wear red?"

"I think the rose-theme is mostly symbolic," I chime in.

"And roses can be white, anyhow," Lindsey adds.

Carissa sighs, putting the red dress back on its hanger. "Fine, have it your way."

Lindsey smiles faintly at the small victory. "Now shoo, shoo. Go find Scotty a suit. How about you make him wear red instead of me?"

Carissa looks at me hopefully, and I shrug in response. I can hardly complain about any clothing that Carissa gives me, and a red suit may be fun to wear. Carissa grins widely at me.

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