“But surely there are other men at Court—younger men with plenty of Royal blood in their veins—that my Uncle might approve,” Rissa objected.
Indeed, almost everyone at Court had at least a faint pearlescent Sheen to their skin, which indicated the presence of Royal parentage somewhere in their lineage. This was due to the fact that when Royal men came into their Heat Cycle, they weren’t required to wait until marriage to one well-chosen suitor, but instead could “sow their wild oats” with anyone they took a fancy to.
By which, Rissa imagined, they went around kissing as many women as they liked, thereby making Royal bastards everywhere.
Of course, as a lady, she was forbidden from such a thing, which didn’t seem fair at all to her. Not that she wanted to go around kissing strange men—certainly not! But it did seem to her that she might have more say in who she could marry and allow to slake her Heat. It didn’t seem fair or right that she should be restricted to choosing from the few males the Steward had approved.
But of course, she had never been consulted on such matters, she thought resentfully, as Lady Mildew helped pull the heavy Court gown over her head. It was made of white brocade, worked with golden thread, and had a high waistline, cinched tight, just under her full breasts.
Unfortunately, her glowing pink points showed through the white fabric, despite the ice pads she also wore. Rissa wished that she might ever be allowed to wear any color but white, but that was out of the question. Every young lady at Court wore white until she was wed—the color was meant to show her purity and the fact that she was untouched, unkissed, and completely chaste. Only after she was wed and had ascended the throne, would she be allowed to wear any other color in public.
Of course, by then, she would have no need for darker colors that covered her glowing points, because her husband would slake her Heat and then her points would no longer glow like two live coals beneath her gown. In the meantime, though, it was embarrassing in the extreme that anyone who liked, could gauge her Heat Cycle, just by looking at the outline of her breasts beneath her gown.
“Push your ridiculous hair to one side, girl! So many buttons!” Lady Mildew groused, as she worked to button up the back of Rissa’s gown. “Confound that seamstress for putting so many in—she knows my joints pain me when I work them!”
“Well, after tonight, you’ll have no need to button me up or help me dress at all, anymore,” Rissa pointed out brightly. “My new robot guard will do all of it and you may relax in your own apartments.”
She tried to imagine what that would be like. She had visited her friend, Alyssa’s country house after the Season last year when they had just bought a new robot butler. She still remembered how the shiny metal man had rolled around their mansion, serving everyone drinks and snacks at the end of the Season party. He hadn’t seemed very useful otherwise, however—he couldn’t even climb stairs because his legs were fused together and he had wheels instead of feet.
Rissa hoped that the robot the kind Kindred Commander and his sweet wife, Sophia, were sending her had more functions than just serving drinks and snacks. She really did need help dressing and undressing—getting into and out of the heavy Court gowns and large, powdered wigs was a two-person job!
Still, she admitted to herself, she would be willing to take even a very limited robot if it meant getting rid of Lady Mildew, who had held the title of “Constant Companion to the Princess” and had been her chaperone ever since Rissa’s dear Mama had died. She could just call one of the maids in and ask her to help with the buttons and wigs if she had to—it would be worth the extra inconvenience to not see her old chaperone’s sour expressions and hear her constant scolding all the time.
“You won’t be rid of me that easily, my girl!” Lady Mildew snapped, as though reading Rissa’s thoughts. “I’ll have you know, I’m still the one who’ll be keeping the remote to your Chastity Wire! And I’ll still be the one to take it off you and put it on you before and after bath times. So don’t get too excited about your new ‘freedom’!”
“Yes, Lady Mildew,” Rissa sighed, feeling her heart thump back down to her feet. “But when can I stop wearing it?” she demanded. “I am of age now, you know! I have been these five years.”
“When you are properly married, you may be allowed to stop,” Lady Mildew said, frowning. “It will depend upon your husband’s will in the matter.”