Lucien
Seven days. She stayed seven days, dressed as a maid, blending seamlessly into my castle. She was in the kitchens, thick as thieves with the rest of the help. She was in the revelries, drawing more attention and trouble than any noble woman in the gathering could and flirting carefree and hard enough to get the clothes off the backs of both men and women. She was in the stables, tending my horses. She was amongst my personal maids, helping me get dressed for the day. She was fucking everywhere.
And at night, she'd fall asleep on my couch, a book fell over her face, silky mane scattered about and wearing nothing but another one of my shirts. And she never picked the regular ones. She wore my most astounding pair and used my oils, my scents, my everything. She was worse than Evadne. At least, with my cousin, I could express my irritation.
If I so much as scowled at her, she would giggle and kiss both my cheeks soundly. Or walk about naked in my chambers until I ran from it.
