But that was more than she wanted to think about right now. At the moment, she must concentrate on her new guard’s presentation to the Court and the ball that was to follow.
I just have to get through tonight, Rissa thought, as she rose carefully from the dressing table chair, making certain her freshly-powdered wig was sitting straight on her head. After tonight, at least I’ll be done with Lady Mildew—well except for the Chastity Wire!
She wished she could be rid of that too, but she wouldn’t be able to until after she was married and her Heat was slaked. Because she didn’t care what Lady Mildew said, she would not allow her husband to continue making her wear the awful device, she told herself firmly. It was dreadful to get shocked every time she innocently needed to scratch her thigh or when she was dealing with necessary business during her Moon Blood.
Of course, she had to find a husband first, before she got rid of the wire. And more importantly, before she burst into flames from unslaked Heat.
But Rissa preferred not to think about that either. One thing at a time—for tonight, it was enough that she was mostly getting rid of her irritating chaperone and getting a shiny new robot in Lady Mildew’s place.
She wondered again what her new guard would look like and then Lady Mildew was rushing her out the door—it was time for the presentation when she would finally see him for herself.
4
James shrugged his shoulders in unaccustomed irritation as he tried to get used to the new clothing he had been issued when he arrived on Regalia Five. He had flatly refused the constricting waistcoat, knee-length brocade breeches, stretchy stockings, and buckled shoes he had been offered. He preferred instead to wear the standard Kindred uniform of tight leather trousers tucked into tall, black boots and a long-sleeved uniform shirt made of heavy, silky material.
As a Dark Kindred, his uniform shirt was black, which would have given him a rather monochrome appearance, if it weren’t for the ridiculous golden frock coat the palace’s head butler had insisted he must wear in order to be properly attired for Court.
The coat was too small for James’s broad shoulders and he shrugged them again, feeling the tightness of the golden brocade fabric between his shoulder blades. How could a male fight in such constricting clothing? The moment he entered any altercation, he would split the damn thing down the middle! It was foolish vanity to put fashion before function, which James had attempted to point out to the butler.
“What if there is another attempt on your Princess’s life and I am constricted by this ridiculous coat and unable to fight at full capacity?” he had demanded.
But the male had absolutely refused to listen, insisting that James would not be allowed in Court if he did not at least wear the frock coat as well as a white linen cravat wound around his throat.
“The Steward would have my head, Sir Robot, were I to allow you to enter the Receiving Hall without at least a frock coat and cravat!” he’d exclaimed. “You must have that much, at least, to be considered decent in society. I’m sorry if it’s too tight, but we don’t have any men your size on our planet,” he added, stepping back and considering the tightly-stretched golden fabric between James’s shoulder blades with a frown. “I’ll have the royal tailors make you something more suitable in the future, but for now, this will simply have to do.”
And with that, James had to be content—though he wasn’t in the least content. He was irritated and impatient. He—
Suddenly he frowned, considering his own thoughts. Irritated and impatient? Weren’t those…emotions? Was he feeling?
Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself uneasily, his fingers stealing up to the back of his neck to caress the small silver button of his emotion-damper. I’m not having emotions—I’m simply thinking strategically. I must be ready to defend the Regalian Princess with my life—I cannot be hampered by constrictive clothing when I am trying to guard her.
“Are you ready, Sir Robot?” a voice said in his ear, interrupting his inner musing. It was the head butler again. “You’re about to be presented to the Steward and the Princess Ka’rissa,” he added.
James straightened his shoulders as much as was possible and gave the other male a brief nod.
“I am ready.”
“Very good then. I’ll have the servants draw the curtains and then you walk through. Stand for a moment at the end of the red carpet until the herald announces your name and title. Then you can make your way to the midpoint of the carpet. Stop again, until the guards let you pass. After they do, you can make your way to the Royal Dais and bow low before the Steward and the Princess. Remember, your head must be lower than the Steward’s—that’s very important,” he added. “Do you understand all this or should I repeat it?”