𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 1 Chapter 68 ALEXANDER
Jaylah held out her hand. "Why did I agree to this?" Alexander groaned as he slapped his new wad of money into it.
"Because it is highly in your interest to be on my good side when we enter the world of court politics." Pocketing it, she gave him a cutting smile. "Also because you are too weak where I am concerned."
"The only thing I'm weak for is glazed ptomi," he said, eyes on a nearby vendor's cart.
"Come along, lowly steward," she said, heading in the direction of the shops, "and I may let you eat afterward."
"But I'm hungry now."
She ignored him and entered a little place with glass windows in the front showcasing dresses pinned to burlap-covered figures. Though he didn't know much about fashion, he was sure his mother could have never afforded such clothing. He scowled as he entered the shop, even when the shop-keeper gave her greetings.
Jaylah did not turn when he caught up with her. "Tell me you're not blowing my hard earned money on a dress."
She waved him off and switched to Navrikan. "It took you approximately five seconds to steal it. And you will need to do it again, because you require opulent clothing as well." With that, she turned away to inspect a garnet-colored gown.
Alexander glanced down at himself. "What's wrong with what we're wearing now? We always look good."
"Look at me. A loose, threadbare shirt and pants with the knees torn out are not the picture of a sovereign queen. And you..." She tilted her head to the side as if he was so terrible she could no longer behold him. "You look as though you lost a fight with an entire slaughterhouse. And reek of it too."
Never mind the fact that he bathed himself nightly. Still, he ducked down to smell his underarm. Just as he thought, he smelled lovely. "Fine. But I get to choose my own outfit."
"That remains to be seen. I have an inkling that your sense of style is just as atrocious as the rest of you." The shop-keeper lingered nearby, uncomfortable by their arguing.
A hand to her healing side, Jaylah pivoted. The sun glinted off her sheathed swords. She spun a red dress pinned to a figure as if she already owned it, felt the fabric, then decided some part of it was not to her standard and promptly moved on to the next. This cycle repeated at least a hundred and thirty one times. Alexander greatly regretted his decision to not finish her off. "Just pick one, it doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. After the misstep I had, I must appear devastatingly powerful." She pinned him with a dark glance. "Do you have a problem with powerful women, Alexander?"
"My problem is with you, so clearly not."
Another appraising once-over down the skirt of a dress as black as ink. "You are only pestering me for attention because what I am doing does not involve you."
