The handmaidens mostly behaved themselves while getting Lily prepared for the ball. There were no wandering hands, no sly remarks, and Enid and Ayika seemed to be leaving Motley well enough alone. Lily truly hoped that this meant she’d gotten through to them the other day. She didn’t want to have to raise her voice at them again.

“My Lady will shine brighter than the stars,” Motley whispered as she finished tightening the laces. “No one will be able to take their eyes from you!”

Lily squirmed slightly. “Um. We’ll see.”

Only a few hours ago, she would have sworn she was ready for this. She’d expected to be a little unsteady. She’d braced for butterflies, for buzzing nerves, for her voice to shake or knees to wobble.

She hadn’t braced for the intensity with which she simply did not want to go.

It was a good thing they’d started early, because twice already she’d asked Enid to redo her entire hairstyle. She felt awful about it—awful about wasting Enid’s time and awful about looking so blatantly insecure.

But it felt like whenever she tilted her head, a new wrong angle appeared. Her jawline would sharpen, or flatten, or her chin would look wrong, or her shoulders too wide. She was supposed to go in front of half the realm’s nobilities like this?

It was stupid. This was all… she looked… she looked unfit. She looked bad. She looked absurd. She wasn’t ready.

“You look lovely, My Lady,” Ayika murmured in her ear from behind, reaching around to gently pat her cheek with blush. Sunsets bloomed across Lily’s cheeks. “You don’t doubt our little Motley, do you?”

Lily resisted the urge to bite her lip and risk smearing the lipstick. At least her lips were nice. Her lips were fine. Her eyes were fine. Her hair was fine. But the rest of her…

“It comes and goes,” she made herself mumble, trying hard to push it all back. “I know you mean it. Thank you. It’s just…” And now it looked like she was fishing for compliments. Her hands tapped at her sides.

She heard Enid giggle. “All done, My Lady!”

Enid let go of her hair, and Lily watched in the mirror as select locks spilled on either side of her head, curling slightly inwards to frame her face. The rest was done up in a loose braided bun at the back, bound in a length of long black ribbon decorated with silver teardrops. The ends of the ribbon were allowed to dangle, forming twin tails behind her ears.

“Is that better?” Enid asked.

Lily stared at herself in the mirror. She hesitated.

She tried to imagine she was looking through the eyes of a stranger. A man, maybe. Someone shallow who knew nothing about her, who didn’t care about who she was, just what she looked like. She studied the jawline, the pink cheeks, the way the corset under her lacy, diaphanous white dress hugged her small chest and pushed the almost-breasts slightly together, the way her waist tapered in and then swelled out into nice, round hips…

Ayika and Enid tittered.

“My Lady,” Ayika purred, “I’m sure the people of the party will be admiring your pretty face, not your… body.”

Lily saw her own cheeks go redder. Heat rose inside her, and she had to fight not to squirm or duck her head in shame. Why had she jumped straight to trying to sexualize herself? The hair. She asked about the hair, not your butt, Ha—Lily.

“It looks lovely,” she said weakly. It did. Having some of her hair go in front of her shoulders nicely accentuated the daintier parts of her features, and while she hadn’t seen girls wearing ribbons in their hair like that since she was very young, the dangling tails seemed to lend her a sort of playfulness.

She looked… cute, she thought, and smiled tentatively.

“You’ll learn in time how to judge these things, My Lady,” Enid said sweetly. “But in the meantime, you should trust that if a girl says you look pretty, it’s because you do. We do know these things.”

“Verily!” Motley agreed, and the three maids giggled.

Lily’s cheeks got hotter. “I-I know that.”

“Such a fast learner our Mistress is,” Enid cooed, and the affectionate condescension in her voice made Lily want to hide behind her hands. She didn’t have it in her to call it out. Not today.

As they applied the finishing touches—setting powder for her lips, mascara, silver teardrop earrings, and twin heart-adorned hairpins to keep the rest of her hair in position—Ayika’s hand went to her back and began drawing gentle, even circles.

The minutes went by.

Lily felt her shoulders relaxing. Her eyelids fluttered low, and she slowly let the embarrassment trickle down into the shadows of her mind. Ayika didn’t talk about anything in particular—just chatter about the fashions, about how to avoid smudging the eyeliner, about what she’d heard would be served in the dining hall later. Lily just smiled and made quiet sounds of agreement.

She was glad for the chance to collect herself, focusing on Ayika’s soothing voice and the feeling of those slow, familiar circles. Around and around, spiral after spiral.

Lily had never asked Ayika to do this. Ayika just always seemed to know when she needed it. It was nice to have her needs… anticipated like that, she supposed, gazing at herself in the mirror and watching her lashes flutter with freshly-applied mascara. Ayika sometimes seemed a little sly to Lily, but she could also be very kind sometimes. Very nurturing.

She realized she wasn’t listening to much of what Ayika was saying. In fact, she didn’t even notice the maids had finished until Ayika put a hand on her shoulder. “Mistress?”

“Right.” Lily shook herself a little and smiled at Ayika. “Thank you three. Do you… have plans for the night?”

For a split-second, she thought Enid’s and Ayika’s eyes went to Motley.

“No, Mistress,” Enid said, shaking her head with a smile. “Just dinner and an early bed.”

“Well… good.” Lily hesitated, looking at Motley. Motley’s eyelids still looked a little droopy. Lily frowned. “I trus—”

There came a sharp knock at the door. She and Motley gave twin starts; Lily hadn’t even realized she was still a little under.

“My Lady?” Settie called. “Are you decent?”

Lily grinned. “Settie, you’ve seen… nevermind. Yes.”

The door opened, and Poinsettia peeked in—almost tentatively at first, as if confirming Lily’s honesty. She walked in and shut the door behind her. The flower witch stared at Lily for a moment, arms crossed.

Lily pursed her lips. “Is something wrong?”

Settie’s eyes drifted up and down Lily’s form. Lily shifted. They’d talked about the dress thing, but… Settie was staring very intently.

“Yes.” Settie walked up and cupped her cheek.

Lily’s breath caught. She barely kept from flinching away—she was still sensitive to unexpected touches. She sensed the handmaidens withdrawing.

Settie’s other hand reached into her hair and slowly pulled out one of the hairpins, and Lily realized what Settie was doing as Settie pushed something else in to take its place. Lily looked in the mirror to see the bright, vivid poinsettia flower now tucked into her hair where the pin had been, giving her face a striking asymmetry.

“You wear my colors out there,” Settie whispered to her, her voice slightly husky. She licked her lips. “Mine. O-Okay?”

Lily blinked twice. Settie, the maids are seeing all this. Her cheeks were getting hot again. She knew Settie was probably still a little prickly about the fight earlier, but to be grabbed and… physically decorated like this by her own flower witch, as if she was still a child…

She nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of going without them, Poinsettia.”

Settie blinked back.

Then she nodded, smiled, and drew her hand away. She bowed. “My Lady.”

* * *

Lily wasn’t looking around when she exited the dressing room; her mind was firmly directed inward. Settie was acting strange, obviously—she’d been in a bad mood ever since they’d arrived, if not before—but that wasn’t what she was lingering on.

At least, not exactly.

Lily’s nails scratched at her palm.

She was lingering on the touch. Settie’s hand on her cheek, the witch’s gardening callouses scratching, almost tickling her skin.

Lily had been used to Settie being a bit bossy when she was younger. She supposed it was probably normal for floral witches to be a little pushy, and she knew Settie only did these things because Settie knew the arena better than her. Lily was new to this. Settie wasn’t.

But it had been such a brisk motion. No hesitation. Settie had just grabbed and posed her so she could put the flower in, not even bothering to ask. And earlier that day, when she’d taken Lily’s chin to wipe away Isma’s lipstick mark…

And Lily hadn’t done anything. Just now, she’d been too startled, too flustered at it happening in front of the maids, and she’d just frozen stiff. As if making any motion or any sound at all would betray something lurking inside her.

I should have slapped her hand away, rasped one part of her, making her nails dig into the palm. All of this is hard enough, terrifying enough, without my own best friend treating me like a…

It felt nice, whispered another part of her, soft and wispy and fluttering to the forefront. Did she ever do things like that before? Would she do it again, if I asked? Or if I… didn’t?

Another part of her didn’t yet have words for what it felt. It roiled and churned uncomfortably, refusing to name itself but refusing to be still. That was the part she was struggling with. It was the part she couldn’t understand. Obviously she was mortified, and clearly she was—was feeling confused things about being touched aggressively right now—

—but the closest word she could find for the third feeling was dishonest.

She swallowed. And that didn’t make any sense at all.

Lily heard a small ahem and realized she wasn’t alone in the hallway.

She turned to see a young woman leaning with her rear pressed against the wall. The woman was dressed in the garb of a warrior-at-rest: light, ornamental armor, with a peacebonded scabbard at her waist. She had tied into her short dyed-pink hair a pale frilly handkerchief, marking her as a squire wearing her knight’s colors. The squire’s cheeks were dotted heavily with freckles. With the short hair, she had a tomboyish look to her, but also a distinct softness. She was perhaps a couple years younger than Lily.

Lily didn’t know much about knights. She only had two on retainer, and they were really more adventurers than proper knights, nomadic fighters who mostly spent their time going on quests or escorting travelers rather than dealing with her. This squire did not look like the adventurous type, though Lily felt a little bad for assuming it. There just weren’t any scars. No signs of hardship at all. And though the squire certainly looked athletic, she didn’t carry herself like someone who ever expected to need to defend herself from anything..

It didn’t help the first impression that she was currently polishing off a sticky pastry, licking her fingers with a casual rudeness as she looked up at Lily.

“Oh. You must be the Countess of Wellseek.” Her lips quirked. She had a small mouth, but very plump lips, and when her lips pouted to the side her button nose scrunched cutely. “Or a very well-dressed handmaiden.”

“The former.” Lily felt heat rising between her shoulders and tried to push it back. She didn’t need to be snippy. She smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Well, duh.” The squire’s eyes glinted. She finished licking a finger and sketched a very shallow bow. “Squire Veracity. At your service, Your Ladyship.”

“And at… yours?” Lily’s brows knitted. “Um, may I ask…”

“Lady Isma asked that I escort you to the ballroom.” Veracity’s lips twisted into a crooked half-smile. “I guess she’s worried you might get lost.”

Lily had never seen this girl before in her life. She was sure she’d remember someone so rude being in Isma’s service. “Really? Are you… sure you’re not mistaken?”

She was trying to remember if there was a polite, ladylike way to call someone a liar.

Veracity giggled. “Am I sure you might get lost? Or am I sure that she asked?”

“The latter.”

“The latter.” Veracity nodded slowly, still smiling, and her hands clasped behind her back as she leaned forward. “If you’d like to reject her offer, I’d be happy to tell her so.”

Lily was a little closer to this strange girl than she wanted to be. She shifted in place, scooting slightly backward. As she did so, her heel caught on the floor and nearly made her trip.

It was subtle. But Veracity’s eyes darted down immediately, and Lily could see the glee filling that smile. “Do you need to lean on me as we go, My Lady?” She took a step forward, chest thrust out primly. “I understand you’re probably still getting used to wearing those.”

“No thanks.” Lily felt her cheeks getting hotter.

“No thanks?” Veracity’s habit of repeating Lily’s words was starting to get on her nerves. “I know heels can be hard to get used to at first.”

“I know how to walk in heels.” Lily’s tone was forming icicles no matter how she tried to warm it. This girl was younger than her. Yes, heels were new to Lily, but that wasn’t any excuse to talk to her like a teenager. “I’ve been practicing for months, and—”

“You’ve been practicing! Of course you have, Lily. My Lady.” The correction came too quick for Lily to speak up about it. Veracity took a step closer, still wearing with that sweet, innocent smile. “I’m sure you’ll have the hang of them soon!” She offered a hand. “But just in case?”

Lily swallowed. “I…” She wanted to say no. It would be easy to say no. She had every right to say no. “I’m sorry, but I would rather go on my own.”

Veracity’s smile washed away. Briefly, something else flickered across her face—frustration, maybe, or even anger. But then that vanished, too, replaced with a look of gentle, innocent hurt. “Proper noblewomen usually do get escorts to the ball, you know, for their protection. I would have thought you would want to be treated the same way, My Lady.”

Lily flinched.

Veracity tilted her head, her lower lip extending to a pleading pout. “I’m only trying to help, My Lady. Am I offending you by offering? Is it because you don’t think a girl could keep you safe?” Her lashes fluttered. “Or because of my low status?”

“No! Of course not! To either one.” ‘Low status’. This squire was a rich man’s daughter. Guaranteed. This was unbearable. Lily longed to squirm away, but she made herself stay still, because fleeing would only make all this so much worse. “The offer is very, very kind. I’d just rather not.”

Proper ladies did usually arrive with an escort. It had always seemed a little silly to Lily. The escort was often a man—not always—but almost always a partner, or failing that, one of the lady’s own knights.

It was always at least someone they knew. That was why Lily was saying no. Because Veracity was a full stranger who was being blatantly suspicious and rude. Not because of any issues with ‘status’. Not because Veracity was a girl. And not because her mind was swirling with any confused thoughts about…

Dishonest.

“You’d rather not.” Veracity took a step closer. Her hand slipped forward to brush Lily’s arm. “I’m saying I’ll go with you. I want to support you, My Lady.” She licked her lips. They glistened a pale pink—she’d painted them to match her hair. Lily had never seen a knight or squire wearing lipstick before. “It’s not a big deal unless we make it one.”

Lily stared helplessly.

This wasn’t worth it.

Maybe Veracity was genuinely trying to help. In her own… condescending way. Did Lily really want to hurt her feelings? Risk hurting Isma’s? Over a five-minute walk?

If she couldn’t handle one rude squire, this year was not going to go well for her.

“I genuinely don’t need to lean,” she said at last, forcing a smile. “That being said… Squire Veracity, would you do me the honor of escorting me to the ballroom?”

Veracity smirked. Lily had never so immediately regretted a decision.

* * *

“My Master says I’m a natural with a sword, you know, My Lady.” Veracity’s stride alongside Lily’s was languid and leisurely, a swaying, self-assured saunter. “You know, a lot of people think the secret to great swordplay is in the muscles or the movement. They’re completely wrong. I think what really matters most of all is the psychology of it.” She flashed Lily a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Lily was fairly sure she didn’t. She shrugged. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“You suppose.” Veracity performed a little twirl to walk on Lily’s other side. “Learning how the other opponent reacts. Learning their tells, their weak points. That’s real swordplay, you know. Preying on the weak points.”

It certainly sounded like the secret to mastering the art of sparring with the same private tutor over and over again. “That’s very… impressive!”

“Mm-hm.” Veracity giggled and twirled to catch Lily’s gaze, hands clasped behind her back. Sparkles danced in her eyes. “Maybe you and I can find time to spar sometime over your visit. I’m sure it could be instructive for you.”

Lily stared at the squire and tried to keep her face very blank. “I… well, that’s very kind of you, but—”

“But?” Veracity smirked. “Aw, is My Lady afraid to lose to a mere squire?”

Lily’s cheeks heated up. “Mind your tone, Squire Veracity.”

Veracity’s smile widened for a split-second.

But Lily made her gaze icy and held the stare.

She made sure Veracity dropped it first, and kept staring for a second longer. Then she started walking again.

“I’m… my apologies, My Lady,” she heard Veracity mutter, and Lily could tell these were not words she got much practice with.

In a sense, the maids’ teasing the other day had been a blessing. At least now Lily had some experience handling this sort of thing.

She still hated it. The frost in her voice always seemed to creep inward and leave sharp ice shards dangling where she didn’t want them. She didn’t want to get more comfortable with that.

“Anyways,” she said, deciding to extend a branch, “in all honesty, I’m not much use with a sword. It’s likely you would beat me.”

“Oh?” Veracity seemed startled at the change in tone. A hesitant smile returned. “Oh! Yes, maybe, My Lady. I have heard the herbs are supposed to weaken you a little.”

“I’ve heard the same.” Lily smiled ruefully. “But I was never exactly athletic. Unless you count riding.”

“Oh. That works out neatly, then.”

“What does?”

Veracity smiled up at her. “Well, it’s no wonder you chose to transition. Princes need to carry swords, but princesses are… you know. Nobody expects princesses to fight their own battles.”

Lily’s breath caught. She hesitated. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Reallyy? Why, then?” Veracity blinked innocently. “I don’t mean any offense, obviously, but it sounds like you were no good at boy sports, so you decided to be a girl, instead. There’s no shame in it, My Lady.”

Lily’s cheeks were getting hot again. She forced her breathing to even out, hands tapping against her sides. “I know that. But… well, it might have worked out that way, but that’s not why—”

“It’s why I would have done it,” Veracity went on cheerfully, not appearing to notice she’d cut Lily off. “If I were a boy who couldn’t fight. Now you just get to sit on a throne and let other people fight for you. And feed you, and dress you…” Her eyes caught the lamplight as they flicked up to meet Lily’s. “Are you sure it isn’t why?”

Lily felt herself leaning away, trying to escape the squire’s body heat, the squire’s eye contact, the squire’s slight, all-but-concealed smile. “That’s… not…”

Veracity’s hand wrapped around Lily’s arm, nails running against the inside of Lily’s elbow. Lily flinched.

“You couldn’t fit as a boy. But you do fit as a girl.” Those eyes gleamed. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but… well, you’re…” Lily made herself laugh. “You’re making it sound quite… cynical, but it’s…”

“Isn’t that how it is?” Veracity’s head gave a charming little tilt. “Or was it just that you thought you you would look pretty as a girl?”

“That’s—”

Veracity’s fingers caressed Lily’s inner arm, then trailed down toward the wrist. “These weak, slender, dainty arms… yes, My Lady, I’d say that would be a very good reason.”

Lily was blushing. She hated how she could tell that just from the way Veracity’s eyes shot to her cheeks—and the way Veracity’s pupils shrank, then dilated.

“You wanted to be a girl because you’d look pretty.” Veracity blinked twice. No ulterior motive lay in those wide eyes, just guileless, innocent curiosity. “Right?”

“M-Maybe, but—” But Veracity was making it sound all wrong. Lily squirmed slightly, leaning away from Veracity’s touch. “No. Not the way you’re saying it.”

“No?” Veracity giggled. “You don’t think you’re pretty?”

“I—no, that’s not what I’m saying.” Lily was searching for that ice again, the coldness she needed to shut Veracity down, but—but everything felt too hot, too molten and gooey and raw. It was like Veracity had found an exposed nerve and decided to just start poking it to see it twitch.

“So you do agree, then.” Veracity’s fingers traced down Lily’s forearm, and Lily’s heart started to race frantically as she realized Veracity’s target. Fingertips brushed the back of her gloved wrist. “You agree that you are pretty~?”

Lily squirmed, biting her lip, shrinking deeper into herself in shame. This was too much, too targeted, too personal. She searched desperately for something, anything she could possibly say to make this stop.

Other than ‘Stop.’

Oh. Oh, gods. Lily’s breath caught. Her thighs pressed together tightly.

Was she—was she getting—

“Oh! Why, is that our little Squire Veracity?”

They both jumped. The voice had come from behind them, from the empty hallway they’d just passed through.

Lily snapped her hand away from Veracity as she turned to face the speaker.

They had been joined by a pretty young woman dressed in the garish motley of a jester. Glittering silver bells dangled from the three tails of her blue cockscomb hat, and a matching belled blue choker encircled her slender throat. Her face and neck were beautifully painted to resemble a pale lavender sky, with pale stars-freckles dappled around her cute pointy nose. Her shoulder-length golden hair was fully pulled back from her oval-shaped face, and it curled up from her shoulders like bouncing river rapids. Her tight tunic, split diagonally between blue and red hues, was studded with abstract metal shapes. They clinked against the bells when she moved.

She had big, brilliant red eyes—Lily didn’t always notice eye colors, but these were impossible to miss—and bright pink-painted lips that shone almost gaudily next to her skin.

And without either of them hearing a single bell jingle, she’d sprung out of nowhere to clasp Veracity’s wandering hand within both of hers.

“You,” the jester whispered, leaning forward to stare intently at Veracity. Veracity seemed frozen in place, as stunned as Lily felt.

“… look so cuuute~!” the jester squealed, yanking on Veracity’s hand and pulling the squire forcibly into a hug. Veracity squeaked in fright as the jester’s arm encircled her waist. “Look at you in your armor! You’ve grown so much!”

“I—what are you doing—” Veracity was squirming, her face suddenly beetred.

“Especially these,” the jester chirped, reaching up and—

—and Lily thought she saw the jester grab Veracity’s breast and give a brazen squeeze, and she thought the breast improbably made a high-pitched honk, and she thought she saw Veracitys eyes glaze over and her body shake and—

—Lily snapped out of the imaginespace. The jester’s hand had gone to Veracity’s biceps, not to her breasts, and obviously that was what she was cooing over.

Lily’s breath tightened with embarrassment. Where had a perverted thought like that come from?

“When you said you meant to achieve big things,” the jester was saying, tittering, “you meant it, huh?”

“Wh-What…” Veracity seemed a little dazed. She was staring straight down, for some reason, at her own chest. “You…”

“Hm.” The jester put a finger to those pouty pink lips and smiled sidelong at Lily. “She’s much prettier when she shuts up, isn’t she?”

“Wh.” Lily stared in stunned silence. She tried to think of any remotely appropriate way to respond.

But then she realized that the jester hadn’t actually said that. Just… another daydream. Her cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head.

“How long has it been since I entertained your distant lord’s court, Veracity?” The jester was still smiling at the squire. “Surely long enough for you to have remembered your manners.”

“M-Mann… ers?” Veracity still had that dazed look on her face. She stared at the jester, then down at the jester’s ample chest. Her cheeks were still bright red. Her lower lip was quivering as if she was about to cry.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to this pretty little Countess?” the jester asked sweetly, shooting Lily a knowing wink.

Lily blinked.

“C-Count…” Veracity was squirming.

The squire was very pretty when she wasn’t actively tormenting someone. Lily tried not to think about how pretty she’d been when she was.

“Count? Oh, fine. One, two, three, up~!” The jester waved a hand in front of Veracity’s face and then snapped her fingers three times in fast succession. “Be off with you, Squire! I’ll catch up to you later.”

Squire Veracity blinked rapidly. She looked between Lily and the jester with a lost, helpless expression.

Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she broke away and fled the scene.

Lily watched her go, feeling a strange twinge. “Is she alright?” she asked.

“Oh, she’s fiiine.” The jester smiled at her. She glanced down at Lily’s hands, one still held protectively in the other. “Embarrassed about Miss Bell?”

Lily froze. “Wh-Wha—”

“She’s embarrassed about missing my bells.” The jester’s lips quirked. “Squires are supposed to be more perceptive, Princess Lily.”

Lily blinked.

She brought her hands up to her chest and clasped them, taking a slow, steady breath in.

Too much, too fast, when she already had too much on her mind. She was in serious danger of making a fool of herself at this rate.

“Countess will do,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m not formally claiming Princess. Not yet.”

“If you don’t claim her, someone else just might.” Those red eyes sparkled. “And you already claimed Prince. Why change course now? Princess Lily has such a nice ring to it.” She cocked her head sharply to the side, making her bells jingle loudly.

“As… lovely as it might ring, it’s too soon to claim it modestly.” Lily swallowed, then quickly added— “That is, I wouldn’t presume to resume the claim so soon after changing names. One thing at a time.”

“A thing’s true if it rhymes.” The jester’s head straightened. She smiled up at Lily; Lily realized she was fairly short. Maybe five feet. Five-foot-four, with the hat. “Very wisely put, Princess Lily. And your choice of title deserves my respect.”

Lily nodded tentatively. Then the jester’s words clicked, and she frowned.

“Of course, no self-respecting buffoon respects anyone or anything.” The jester twisted her lithe body into a jaunty bow. “Mercury the Fool! At your humble service.”

Lily nodded slowly. “A pleasure.” She frowned back towards where Veracity had fled to. “So you and she…”

“… have both been in the service of the Baron of Graite.” Mercury’s eyes crinkled. “But I left his service recently, and it seems she’s shopping around for a new leaseholder. Or leash-holder.”

Refusing to engage with that comment, Lily turned sharply and resumed walking. The jingling of bells told her that Mercury was following close behind.

“I’d be honored to announce you to the room, Princess Lily.” The jester leaned forward just a little too sharply to catch her eye. It really looked like she should have trouble balancing, especially with those curves. She didn’t even wobble. At least, not in terms of… balance.

“Countess. Please.” Lily wasn’t too focused on the correction, though. Her focus at the moment was more inward.

She couldn’t get her heart to stop beating like a hummingbird’s.

Veracity’s mockery had left Lily overwhelmed and off her footing. Those little barbs just weren’t pulling out like they were supposed to; something about them had hooks, and those hooks had pierced deep, and Lily couldn’t afford to think about why right now or she’d be in no shape tonight for dancing.

And then Mercury had shown up, and—and whatever in the Styx had happened there had gone by too fast to even understand.

It was all so much teasing. So much suggestion. So much poisonous, patronizing praise.

You’re supposed to be ready for this, Lily, she told herself desperately, but that was just more shame, more embarrassment, and—and for some reason—for some horrible, wretched, incomprehensible reason, it felt almost—

Lily’s breath caught. She squeezed her thighs together, suppressing a mortified whimper.

No. No. No. With all her will and years of practice, Lily took hold of that fluttering, feathery, twitching melting feeling inside her.

She shoved it as far down into her subconscious as it could go.

Lily stopped in place. She interlaced her fingers, pressed her palms against her stomach, and forced herself to draw in a long, deep, shaky breath from the diaphragm. In, in, in, and then out. Slow and easy.

And again. She knew Mercury was watching, but she could handle being teased about some breathing exercises. Being teased about something so petty would almost be a relief.

But Mercury wasn’t saying anything. Instead, as Lily poured all her focus into her lungs, she felt Mercury moving in closer behind her, until Lily could feel the coarse woollen fabric and cold metal patterns of Mercury’s garb brushing against her bare arm.

Instinctively, Lily made herself very still.

Lily held a personal respect for people like Mercury. It was the duty of Court Fools and Fairies to poke and prod—Mother’s own Court Fairy had been the only person she’d seen openly mock her stepfather and get away with it. For a time, at least.

The poking and prodding was a challenge to authority and a reminder to have humility. She wanted to be the sort of person who could take it.

She took another deep breath in, this one deep enough to fill her lungs completely, almost to the point it hurt. She didn’t exhale right away. She could feel the air straining against her lungs, the pressure building in her chest, and she held it.

This was an old trick her stepfather had taught her for hiccups, the only worthwhile thing he’d ever figured out in life. For some reason, it felt like the closest thing she had to a solution at the moment for whatever was going on with her.

“Sweet Princess,” she heard Mercury whisper, and bristled, but kept her mouth shut, “may I ask a personal question?”

The air pressed out against its confines, and Lily felt a little lightheaded, but she held on firmly. This was the kind of lightheadedness that crowded out everything else, even embarrassment. There was no room for anything but air.

She gave a curt nod.

“When is the last time you touched yourself, little Princess?”

Lily’s lungs seized up and coiled tightly inwards. She blinked, not turning to look.

Mercury’s voice was close and intimate. Her lips weren’t right by Lily’s ear—nothing so brazen—but she was speaking very softly, and for some reason Lily could hear her perfectly.

“I’ve heard that the Handmaiden’s visitors are expected to undergo a period of chastity,” Mercury murmured. There was no trace of mockery, no sly smile. It wasn’t concern, either. Nothing adorned that voice but calm curiosity. “And after experiencing her… touch… many successful supplicants find themselves waiting longer still to resolve their frustrations.”

Lily was sweating. She prayed the light perfume would cover it. She’d worked so hard not to get overheated, not wishing to spoil all the maids’ hard work with the perfumes and the powder blush—little though she needed the blush, she thought bitterly—

“But you’re special. Aren’t you? Pretty little Princess.” Lily almost whimpered. Something about the ornate, delicate way Mercury said those words… this wasn’t acceptable, Mercury couldn’t just… “How long have you waited, I wonder, to defile that pretty body of yours, Princess?”

Lily started letting the breath out again. As she did, the dizziness in her head faded, but a new unbearable swirling vertigo was taking over.

“Did you touch often?” The bells jingled softly by Lily’s ear. “Before you knew?”

“Some,” Lily whispered. She hadn’t meant to speak, but words were slipping out with the breath. “It—s-sometimes—”

“You mean through your clothes.” Mercury’s fingers trailed along Lily’s hip, and then lower down. “Rubbing through fabrics thick and coarse. Rubbing hard. Lifting your hips against your hand, dryhumping desperately, weak little whines and cries melting from panting, quivering lips.”

Lily trembled.

“But I said.” Mercury’s tone shifted, and a strange vibrant pulse came with her words, like the ring in Lily’s ears after a gunshot. “Did you touch often?”

“No.” The word was forced out of Lily. She felt Mercury’s hand hovering over her lap, over her—no, no, stop— “Never.”

“Never. You never touched that thing, that gross, throbbing thing you didn’t ask for, didn’t understand.” There was amusement, there, now. Mercury’s voice lilted musically. “Fabric was your lover. Pillows and blankets. Isn’t that right?”

Again, the pulse shot through Lily. She nodded meekly, head spinning. “Yes.”

Confusion and panic were blazing inside her, but still she just stood there. This was wrong, everything about it was, but there was so much need coursing through her, intense, dazzling—this had to be a dream, it had to be—

“But now?” Mercury purred. More jingling. A slender, sinuous thing—a tail?—slowly encircled Lily’s leg. “Now that you know it’s not a gross, throbbing manhood, but a pretty, leaking, drooling girldick, delicate and weak, vulnerable and—“ Her hand pressed in between Lily’s legs, and Lily moaned. “—sensitive?”

“I—I c-can’t—” Lily panted, and another wave hit her, another pulse, and her knees quaked— “I can’t—!”

“Why not?” the jester cooed, her hand pressing and rubbing, the tail climbing up Lily’s thigh, and her voice thrummed with demanding, overwhelming power, and Lily knew she was in danger, she felt the predator husk to that voice, she felt that molten, dripping lust that was being bodily forced into her helpless, squirming, paralyzed body— “Why. Not.”

“N-Not—” Lily mewled, bucking shamefully against the hand, feeling the fabric stroking against her weak, needy— “N-Not right—”

“Not right?”

“Not—” Lily moaned, lust and shame rising faster, thicker, overpowering, as overpowering as the jester’s scent pouring into her lungs and pounding into her mind as she panted, humped, whimpered, blurted—

“—m-mine!”

Bells jingled.

“And here we are,” Mercury chirped, twirling about to face Lily with a cheery smile. The jester gave a deep bow. “Are you ready to make your debut, my Princess?”

“Countess,” Lily said dazedly.

She snapped to attention.

Her… womanhood wasn’t leaking, or even hard. Her heart wasn’t pounding. Mercury wasn’t pressed against her, and she certainly didn’t have a tail, or whatever that had been.

They stood at the entrance to the ballroom.

The daydream lingered. But only pieces of it.

“Are you sure?”

Lily blinked slowly. She wasn’t sure when she’d started to daydream. She’d just… glossed over as they’d been walking, and at some point the actual conversation had given way to something that hadn’t happened, that couldn’t have happened. Just another perverted imagining, because her mind couldn’t stop wandering.

Because she hadn’t touched herself in over a month.

She swallowed, then smiled at Mercury. This was, however, the third time an ‘imagining’ like this had happened with Mercury in particular. “Quite. Thank you for the escort, Miss Mercury.”

Mercury giggled. “Oh, please, Princess. Miss Mercury was my father.”

Lily smiled back, but she kept her gaze cool.

And she held Mercury’s until the jester had the grace to lower her head.

“Fair ladies and fine gentlemen,” Mercury called out with surprising volume, as she spun to face the ballroom, “introducing the distinguished Lady Lily of Wellseek County!”

All eyes turned to Lily. Dozens and dozens of pairs—some friendly, some curious, some annoyed, and some friendly in ways Lily wasn’t sure she liked. But everyone was smiling.

Lily took a deep breath and gave a gracious smile and a dainty wave.

“Good luck in there, little Princess,” she heard Mercury whisper in her ear.

Lily turned back to Mercury, who was standing several feet away.

Embarrassment and shame still bubbled inside her. In particular, those last two words she’d spoken were still echoing dimly in her head. But the dream was fading fast.

Her head tilted. “You know, I never knew the Baron of Graite employed succubi. He must be a little bolder than I.”

Mercury’s smile held. “It was a real pleasure to meet you, Princess Lily.”

Lily smiled back and tipped her head. “It was.”

And she turned and made her way into the crowded ballroom.