Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 37: It takes a village

Adela's room was untouched, even after three years, as if the owner might come back at any moment.

Much like the rest of the house, it was simply yet lovingly made. A matching set of white wood drawers, a large closet, a rocking chair beneath a large window, and a bed covered by a flowery knit duvet. It still smelled like her as well, the faint scent of buttermilk and apples from the orchard.

On the bed, Ella had spread a few options. None of the dresses Adela had left behind fit her. Before her illness, she had been a tall, sturdy woman, from good farmer's stock, as she often said. Now, she was considerably thinner. The most Ella could borrow were petticoats, hats, gloves, and accessories.

She decided to go for a dress she'd left behind a while ago, made of embroidered turquoise taffeta, to be paired with a creamy, fur-collared capelet and a matching pair of gloves and hat she would borrow.

Stripping out of her travelling gear—tight trousers that were likely to raise a brow or two—she quickly pulled on stockings and a chemise. Then, she reached for a corset. Upon putting it on, she paused.

Ella had grown rather spoilt by the faerie undergarments. The soft-stays she wore nowadays were made for support, rather than shape moulding. They were hardly constricting, comfortably securing her breasts rather than pushing them up or cinching in her waist. The corsets worn by aristocratic human women were a different matter. Lined with whalebone, they were tightly pulled to create an hourglass figure. And though she didn't mind them too much, she'd never once put one on by herself. Usually, Ella had had a maid to help her with that.

Foregoing one wasn't possible, not with the shape of the dress, especially if she was to pass as a proper lady. She realised she wouldn't be able to do it on her own.

Hesitantly, she poked her head out the door, into the hallway. The upstairs area was composed of three rooms. Further down the hall, in the guest room, she could hear Aedion and Gidden arguing in a low, non-serious manner. Smiling faintly, she called for Aedion by tugging on their bond.

Knowing he would notice, she left the door ajar and went back inside. As she'd expected, it didn't take long for him to come, gently knocking before coming in and closing the door behind him.

He arched a brow when he found her in her chemise and stockings, holding the back of the corset to keep it from falling. "Darling, here in your friend's home? Aren't you shameless. Well, who am I to deny you."

"Hush, I need help tying this." She turned and let him see the laced back of the corset.

Through the mirror, she could see him wander over, assessing her figure through the near-translucent chemise.

"This looks like a torture contraption," he said under his breath, running a finger from her nape to her spine, over the delicate lacing. Her skin pebbled at the contact.

"It's not that uncomfortable." She straightened her back as she felt him begin to gather the laces. "Helps with my posture, at least. You can pull tighter," she instructed, feeling that he was hesitant to cinch it too much. "I used to be able to get down to seventeen inches. My old governess would say I've grown fat and thick-waisted if she saw me now."

"Seventeen? That can't be safe," he frowned, pulling in just a bit more, as she'd instructed. "And you are not fat. You're healthy. Strong. You eat to nourish yourself and you train like a soldier. Isn't that what you should want?"

"Not a lady. Healthy means fat here. Strong means mannish," she said dryly, sucking in her stomach to allow for the corset to cinch. "I have always been either too skinny or too muscular." She paused, observing her figure in the mirror, visible through the sheer chemise. "But I don't care anymore. Now... I think I like how I look."