Dragon Blood

Thirty-Six: Help Convincing the King

"I mean no offense," Greta chuckled, "but your clothes aren't exactly suitable for a lord. If we're going to use that as our cover story, you need to play the part."

"You know?"

"I was there the night she shifted for the first time," she frowned, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "And I've been there for her ever since. She's my girl, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine, Orion. You can trust me."

Her earnest brown eyes stared up at him. He met them fully, absorbing the truth of her words. He sensed that he could trust her, human or not, and if she'd kept Skylar's secret this long, she knew when to keep her mouth shut. There was also the fact that she looked at him with no judgement, unlike the way Harold and Violet had looked at him last night. She accepted him as he was, simply because Skylar cared for him. Nana once again filled his mind, and he nodded once in agreement. This was a woman whose bad side was not a good place to be.

"Alright," he conceded, rising from his seat on the bed to stand before her. "What am I wearing today?"

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He hated it. Absolutely hated it.

He was essentially wearing a dress with pants underneath it. He'd never worn a tunic before, and he vowed never to wear one again. Not as long as he had free will.

The dark red fabric of the tunic fell to mid thigh and the rest of his leg was covered in black leggings, which were, fortunately, not skin tight. Those were tucked into a pair of slightly worn but essentially brand new black boots. The leather of the boots matched the thick belt that Greta had helped him secure around his waist. He'd adjusted it three times on his own before Greta shooed his hands out of the way to do it herself. Apparently, he'd been unable to give it the perfect look a lord would have been able to, or something like that.

He looked in the mirror and hardly recognized himself. Thankfully his wild hair still fell freely around his face, giving him something familiar to look at.

Greta quickly shattered that comfort. "Sit down here now, so I can fix your hair. It's nearly as bad as Skylar's." He hesitated but she shoved him onto the stool with a surprising amount of force for such a small woman. He wondered if all male humans went through this sort of torture to be presentable.

Greta grabbed his hair and pulled it into a tight plait at the back of his neck. He shook his head to loosen her grip but she raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror and he submitted. His dragon grumbled in his head but gave in as well. He was starting to understand why she'd been able to bully guards away from his door. She was scary.

"Alright, now, what color ribbon would you like?" she asked, staring at him intently in the mirror.

Human men wore ribbons? What was this place?

He must have looked nervous enough that she gave in. A laugh escaped her and she squeezed his shoulder. "I'm just teasing, love. I wouldn't submit a grown man to such a thing. You do look rather handsome like that, don't you think so?"

He turned and looked at himself in the mirror again. He was used to a more casual look, his hair only pulled back loosely, with a simple shirt, simple pants, and simple boots, just like the rest of the men in the clan.

"I suppose," he answered, just because he knew that's what she wanted to hear.

"Well," she said conversationally, moving to the bed to fold up his old clothes, "that's how noble men dress. How Skylar normally sees men dressed."

Of course, this was how Skylar was used to seeing humans. She'd probably thought all the males, and likely the females, in the clan dressed like barbarians. She would think this was handsome. He wasn't sure how he felt like about that, because he had no intention of dressing like this regularly. Or ever again.