Chapter 8
“Are you used to them bowing to you?” Yvette was trying to understand why Peter looked so very frightened. She had never seen him afraid, even when she described the horrors of the world that he had missed. “Not used to being so close?”
“Too close,” he said. “They have no regard.”
Their hands brushed up against each other, and she took her chance in squeezing his hand. She didn't mean it as a romantic action. When she moved, it had been one of support. But as soon as she touched him, she felt the familiar jolt go through her.
“Where would you go?” he asked, looking down at her. He didn't react at all to the fact that they were now holding hands. She realized, mostly by his body language, that what he was actually asking was where she would like to go.
This was also different than she was used to. Whenever she went anywhere with Thomas, he had an agenda, and there was no deviation from it. He was an alpha male, used to leading armies. She would have expected the same from a king. However, Peter's kind face told her otherwise.
“I usually look around the book stores and at the clothing.”
“Clothing is not made for you?” He was trying to take it in all in.
“Oh, well,” she realized. “I mean, you can get some that is custom made if you have a lot of money. But most people buy ready-made clothes. Pre-made. Look, ten of them,” she pointed to a dress in a random shop window. “Different sizes. Pick it up and try, and then buy.”
Peter looked horrified at the very idea of that.
“No. Clothes should be made by a…a–”
“Tailor?” she asked with a smile. “Not everyone has that money, Peter. That's all. This is cheaper. And that's nice.” She did like the pink gown in the window. It was a cute party dress, with a tank top and a fluffy skirt. As an added bonus, she could see that the sale was enough to meet her budget. She got paid well, it was true, but her hospital bills would never match her paycheck.
“You would buy that?” he pointed to the dress.
“Yes,” she said, and he shook his head.
“No. You work in the palace now. I want a good gown for you.”
“What?” she cocked her head, grinning. “You want to take me to a tailor and get some custom-made gown?”
“Yes,” he repeated bluntly. “Where?”
Yvette lit up. She wanted to hug him.
“I know a place,” she said “But how will you pay for it?”
“Magic,” he said. “You are not a carapace.”
“That is true,” she said.
“Then it's done,” he said. “Show me.”
“This way, I think.” She had seen malls like this, and if she was right, there was a high-end dress shop on the top floor that had custom-made pieces. All the malls looked alike and were populated by the same companies.
She pulled him through the mall, finding the escalator. He stopped for a second, confused by the technology. It seemed so primitive and yet confusing.
“It's alright,” she said, tugging at his hand. “Just step.”
“I can just…” he moved to snap his fingers and transport them, and she shrieked with laughter.
“Peter, no!” she cried, grabbing his hand and pushing him onto the escalator “We're on Earth. You can't just do that. Hey, look. It's you.”
They were passing a shop with branded t-shirts. One–a mannequin on the window–was a screen print of a dragon that looked suspiciously like Peter.
Dragons will eat us all soon; don't waste time.
“What a distasteful t-shirt,” she said in shock.
“What does it–”
“You don't want to know,” she said. “Trust me. It's just rude. I mean, people died.”
“People died because I killed them.” He looked her into the eye.
“I know,” she said. “I sat at home and watched you on TV. And I was frightened, of course. And people did die, but I saw more than that.”
He watched her silently, waiting for her words. He knew what she could say. She could tell him that he was a monster; that he had lost control, and he had to gain it. He had done terrible things; he knew that. Alexander had almost been killed because Peter was too caught up in his blood lust to notice that his brother was sickening and that the carapaces were attacking him. He would never forgive himself if Alexander did not recover, and even now, Alexander was not at top strength. Peter had killed innocents, something he had vowed to never do.
“I knew you were dangerous; I knew you had done wrong, but I also thought you were scared. I mean, I've seen how dragons come back from the Other. They are terrified and messed up and confused. Thomas still can't get his head around the world. His blood lust continues weekly. And no one was helping you; no one was guiding you; no one was even listening to you.” Her eyes filled with emotion. “I mean, you were ripped out of Heaven, Peter, and expected to live in this world that was half Hell. How can people think that it's easy?”
He only caught about 75% of the message, but he could see the emotion in her eyes–the compassion. Compassion was a trait that kings were supposed to have. They weren't looked upon with compassion or kindness; it was unheard of. People flattered them. People gave them gifts and lied to them about happiness, but they generally didn't show them kindness without a motivation.
Yvette looked upon him as if she had seen into his very soul.
He didn't have the proper words to respond. So instead, he squeezed her hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
She fell into his arms, just for a quick hug. And to her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her. In the sea of moving people, they were a rock, unmovable for that moment.
When they finally broke apart, she wiped her eyes and smiled.
“Dress?” she asked. “Gown?”
“Yes,” he laughed, and she led the rest of the way.
He was surprised at how much the shop looked like the tailor shops that he knew on Umora. The tailors may be oddly dressed, but they walked around with the same measuring tapes and pins in their mouths.
“Can I help you?” A girl approached them, who didn't look much older than Yvette.
“I–” Yvette said, but Peter put a hand on her arm.
“We need a gown.” When he was speaking to someone he didn't know, his confidence in English faltered. She smiled, trying to give him confidence. “For her.”
“Perfect,” the girl had no trouble understanding him. “Any budget? Any style? Any occasion?”
“Ah.” Yvette turned to Peter, to see if he caught that.
“Grand,” he managed. “For a ball. Money is not a problem.”
“Money is magic,” Yvette smiled at him.
“Come with me, and we'll look at some of our building pieces. And bring your boyfriend,” the girl turned to lead them to a private room.
“Oh, he's not my–” Yvette said, but stopped herself. She couldn't exactly say that he was her dragon boss who had half enslaved her. Besides, what harm would it do to pretend for just one day?
She noted somewhere in the back of her mind that she hadn't texted Thomas at all since she got here.
“Oh?” said the girl, and Yvette shook her head.
“Nothing. Where do we go?”
The next hour was like a dream. She had never been the girl who shopped, especially after she got sick. She didn't have time or money before, and she didn't have energy after. But now, she felt like a princess. They brought out tutus and full skirts, corsets, bodices, A-lines and princess cuts. All the pieces would be matched together once Yvette found her perfect gown, and she would have a custom-made gown within two weeks. She delighted in not paying any attention to the price tag, but rather, the mirror, and she noticed Peter's watchful eyes. He smiled as she spun around, or indicated that she should show off the diamonds or the bodice. She felt like a princess, strutting gowns down a runway.
“Ah,” Peter said when she came out with the sixth gown. It was a huge, fluffy skirt with a sweetheart neckline. She had it in pink, but the salesgirl had a different idea.
“Perhaps green to match your eyes?” she suggested, getting up on the end of the runway to indicate Yvette should come closer.
Yvette walked over, and she held up the green swatch of fabric.
“Um, do you think…,” Yvette indicated the neckline. “It's just a bit low cut. And this ball is a classy place.”
“I have just the thing,” she said, and reached down to a pile of fabric. “Spin around if you don't mind.”
“Sure,” Yvette spun around, and the girl moved her hair. She realized a bit too late what was happening, and ducked at a bad time. She didn't do well with halter tops because they pushed on her neck, but she also ducked right into the girl's hand, jarring her neck at the base of her skull. “Oh, ow!”
“I'm sorry?” the sales girl was confused how a minor movement suddenly caused Yvette to wince and turn pale. “Are you alright?”
“I just need to sit down a moment.”
Peter was beside her on the platform in a moment, wrapping his arms around her.
“It's alright,” Yvette tried to assure him. “Just need to sit down.”
“She isn't well,” Peter said, as explanation. “Regularly, not just today. Some space, please.”
“I'm so sorry.” The girl backed away, and Peter supported her off the platform, and onto the only chair. He bent his knees to help her, and somehow, she ended up on his lap.
“Oops.” Yvette smiled as she laid her head against his chest. She knew that this was unacceptable behavior, but she couldn't stop herself. She needed strength and healing, and he provided those things at the moment. She closed her eyes, taking comfort in his body heat and his strength. “Mmm. Thank you.”
“I should have not brought you here,” he said.
“Peter, I'm alright, really.” She rose to look at him, and she got a glimpse of the shop behind him.
That was when she screamed. In the shop behind him, leading into the public area, was a giant dragon. It was the grandest dragon she had ever seen–green and gold, his long neck extended and his eyes flashing. This was not an idle dragon; this was one that intended to kill.
“Peter,” she managed, and he spun around. His eyes widened.
“Father,” he said, standing up and nearly dropping her. Yvette shrieked in surprise and hid behind him. The grand dragon roared, and tipped his head to the ceiling. Fire came out of his mouth, hitting the wooden ceiling. He then turned his blast towards the walls, setting fire to them and the clothes. Everyone screamed and ducked. Peter pushed Yvette back, his eyes flashing, and she knew he was going to transform. It terrified her because she knew she wasn't safe. If he lost his human consciousness, she would die in the fire. She needed him; he was her only chance at living through this obvious attack.