Gold Weaver | ✓

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Everyone was bustling about, knocking into each other and cursing, by the time I made it down to the village. It was busier today than usually. I wondered what was going on, whether there was a flash sale I hadn't realised was happening.

"Ele!" Someone shouted. A hand clamped on my arm just as I was about to turn around.

"Martha," I greeted, slowing to a stop and faced her. "What's going on?"

Her wild brown curls greeted me full force, falling about just above her shoulders. She'd had it cut more than a year ago but it hadn't seemed to grow even an inch. She still resented her mother to this day for making her cut it in the first place.

"Babe," she said, exasperated. "You have got to be kidding me. Have you been living under a fucking ro— you know what? Never mind. The important thing is the King is coming today."

"The King?" I asked. "He finally get off his high horse and decide to grace us little people with his presence?"

"Will you shut up!" She whisper yelled. "Anyone could hear you! It's like it's like treason."

"Ooh," I said, waving my hands exaggeratedly. A lady bumped into us. I couldn't really blame her, not when we were the ones standing directly in the way. "Come on, let's go, I'm hungry."

We continued walking down the cobbled streets, careful not to catch our feet on the uneven road.

Benny, manning the bakery stall as always, greeted us heartily— probably because we were two of his best customers. He immediately went to grab his homemade pastry we'd both fallen head over heels in love with. "Good doing business with you, ladies!"

I sent him a small wave. "Why's he coming then?" Taking a bite of the small slice of heaven, I began wondering what the stuck up prince could possibly want.

"Something about wanting to—" she faltered, looking up in thought. "I don't fucking know. And honestly? I don't really care that much. All I know is that he's coming and I want my boobs to look as good as possible and I need your help. So is that too much to ask?"

I sighed. "When did you become such a whore?"

"When you became so frigid," she said with a 'duh' look. "I had to even out our group's average slutiness."

"You know—" I pulled her away from the underwear store. "— I think I'm spending too much time with you because that almost made sense."

She was stronger than she looked and planted herself in front of the large store window, gazing up at the lacy number on display.

"We're going in," she said, resolute.

I stared at the store and then around. Already, just standing outside I knew it would cause a stir if anyone were to see. "I think the fuck not."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you hear that?" For a moment, I listened for what she was talking about. "Oh no, it's just a whiny virgin. Come on, we're going in."

Bracing myself like I was about to go to the frontline of a war, I— for some strange reason— let her drag me inside. Almost immediately, my nostrils were assaulted with the harsh smell of perfume. The stuff certain girls I knew were smothered in, like it'd take away from their lack of brain cells. Okay, that was mean, I thought to myself.