I’m panting, short of breath as this dress is so tight that I’ll be lucky if I don’t pass out in the next five minutes. Sliding my palms down the skirt of the dress, I moan at the texture, velvet. It’s so soft and supple. The arms are tight to my elbow and they thankfully bell out to deep points at the bottom, edged in gorgeous black lace.
“Your shoes, milady,” one of the girls offers, crouching down in front of me.
Grasping my dress, I tug it up and hold out one foot, she slides on a slipper that is at least half a size too small, then helps me put on the other.
“Please, have a seat so that we can pin your hair,” Jasmine says, pressing her palm to my back.
Nodding, I walk over to a small vanity and sink down on the bench there. The good news is that I can sit in this too-tight dress, the bad news is that I may pass out at any second. One of the quiet girls takes a step up behind me and I look at myself in the very small, rustic mirror.
The dress is a straight slash across my chest, but my breasts are barely contained. They are practically exposed for the world to see. So much so that I have to glance down to ensure that there is no areola showing.
Once I’m satisfied that nobody can see every single inch of my breasts, I lift my head back and look in the mirror again. Raising my eyes to the girl behind me, I smile in the reflection. She has white-blonde hair and green eyes, she’s simply beautiful.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Katrina, milady,” she whispers.
“And the brunette?”
“Ellyn, madam,” Ellyn answers.
“I’m Sybilla,” I offer.
They all dip their chins but don’t say anything else. Katrina fiddles with my hair and when she’s finished, my lips part in awe. From what I can see, it’s fantastic.
There are twists and braids all over that come up to a high ponytail. The pins that hold it all in place are gold with little black accents on the ends.
I open my mouth to thank them, but there is a loud pounding on the door. Jasmine hurries over, and I hear her whisper, then she opens the door to one of the hot guys and the woman with the white hair.
Chapter Three
SYBILLA
The woman, a witch is what they called her, eyes me warily. She takes a step forward. Hot Guy at her back doesn’t move, but he’s watching every single moment and it’s clear that he’s on the alert.
The maids, I assume that’s what they are, disappear. I’m now alone with Hot Guy and the witchy lady. She continues closing in on me. I don’t move, my legs somehow stuck to the stone floor beneath me.
“I’ve cast a simple spell to keep you in your place while I do what’s been asked of me.”
Gulping, my eyes lift from the woman to Hot Guy, but he’s glowering at me so I decide that the witchy woman is a better view in this moment. She circles me, murmuring unintelligible words beneath her breath.
Stopping in front of me, I watch as she lifts her hands and then gold sparks fly from her fingertips and swirl around me. Something washes over me, my back arches pushing my chest out, and my head snaps back, causing me to cry out in pain.
Then, as quickly as it started, it disappears and my knees give out, my entire body falling to the hard stone floor. Nobody comes to my aid, and I’m okay with that as I attempt to catch my breath.
“The enchantment is in place. If she has any magic at all, I have suppressed it,” she states coolly.
Hot Guy nods his head once, then takes a step to the side. “Back to your cell, witch,” he growls.
She stares at me for a moment, unmoving, her eyes focused on me. Something flashes in her eyes but she shakes it off and turns around, walking right out the door. I stay frozen to my spot, feeling too weak to move when the door opens again.
Thankfully, it’s Jasmine who enters. She hurries over to me and helps me stand to my feet. “Oh milady, are you injured?”
Shaking off my strange feeling of exhaustion, I look to the woman. “No, I’m all right.” I nod.
“His Majesty would like to speak to you in his chancery, please, follow me. We must hurry without delay.”
I don’t know what the hell a chancery is and this whole thing is freaking me the hell out. I bite the inside of my cheek, praying that it isn’t a sex room. I can’t handle medieval sex. I don’t even know what these people would want and all I can imagine is a bunch of rudimentary torture devices.
Her hand is in mine as she quickly leads me out of the room. I stumble as soon as the two other hot guys close in behind us. I can hear their heavy boot falls with each step that they take, but they don’t say a word or make a move to restrain me, so I guess there’s that.
Jasmine stops in front of a closed door and knocks before stepping to the side. There is a long silence and I clasp my hands together in front of me, wringing them with a flicker of apprehension that fills my entire body.
“Enter,” a deep voice rumbles.
I don’t move. I can’t. I know that it isn’t because of some weird witch lady this time, no, this is because I’m terrified of what will happen to me beyond those doors.
One of the hot guys leans forward and pushes the door open with a grunt, while the other one places his hand on the middle of my back and pushes me into the room. Before I can spin around, I hear the door slam closed behind me, the noise echoing all around me.
“Sybilla,” a voice rasps.
Turning to face the direction of where I heard the voice, I lift my eyes to find him sitting behind a desk. My face heats because I realize that we’re in an office, not a sex chamber. He stands slowly, moving around his desk almost elegantly.
I take a long look at his clothes, something that I didn’t do the first time that I saw him. He’s wearing what looks to be thick black tights, man tights. He has a burnished gold sleeveless tunic on, the hem brushing just above his knee and has a cut on each side, all the way up to his mid-thigh, I assume so that he can walk easier.
He’s wearing a long-sleeve tight shirt of some kind beneath the tunic, again in black. We look super matchy and I’m completely confused by this. His vibrant steel-blue eyes scan my entire body, lingering at the exposed cleavage for longer than should be acceptable before he takes a step toward me.
“You look lovely in my colors,” he murmurs.
Taking a step back, avoiding his advance, I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means,” I breathe. “Take me home, please. I’m scared.”
He doesn’t stop his advance. Instead, he continues until I slam against what I can only guess is a bookshelf. He lifts his hand, immediately wrapping it around the front of my throat. My eyes widen and my breath hitches.
“You cannot leave without my permission. Your powers have been blocked until I give an order to unblock them,” he rumbles. “Including any powers of seduction that you hold.”
“Seduction?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side, his fingers flexing against my neck, his eyes focused on mine. “If you’ve come here thinking to use powers of seduction on me. You’ve been blocked. Whatever secrets you’re trying to discover about my position, my people, or my crown, you will be sadly disappointed.”
Shaking my head, I narrow my gaze at him. “Look here, asshole,” I snap. “I don’t know why you kidnapped me. I don’t want to play your freaky game. All I want to do is go back to my apartment in Portland.”