-Atlas
David, for whatever reason, gives a side glance to the palace and I seize the opportunity to attack. It only takes a kick in his left ankle to throw him off balance, making him fall on the frozen ground with a loud thud.
Helping him up, I look around me and start to notice that he's not the only one getting distracted. Other men have put a pause on their training and, instead, they're looking up at the sky. 172Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBNSkopEvU6
No, not the sky. 172Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy7N0ZHMLfp
Knitting my brows together, I follow the direction of their gazes and my sights set on one of the balconies above us.
Leila's standing on the balcony, arms placed on its railing, and she's wearing nothing but her white nightgown. It's long enough to cover her feet, but the fabric is so light it wouldn't leave much to the imagination if she was closer to us. It clings tightly to her skin until righ under her chest; instead the skirt flows freely, not allowing the onlookers to make out the rest of her curves. But she's a woman, a very attractive one at that, and she doesn't need to show any skin to accract male attention.
Just her presence managed to disrupt my training.
When she notices, instead of going back inside as any non-demon woman would, Leila smiles politely as she waves at us. The cold becomes a long forgotten memory, as I feel my face and neck burning up.
Demons clearly never learned the concept of decorum.
David, who's standing right next to me, lifts his arm to wave back at her, but I grab his wrist stopping him before he's able to.
"I don't recall saying you could stop, did I?"
"No, Sir".
Immediately, the guards get back to their training, each and everyone of them avoiding to meet my gaze.
Glancing back up at the balcony, I meet Leila's eyes staring right back at me, her annoyingly kissable lips curled up in a frown.
Go inside, I mouth.
Leila makes a show of rolling her eyes, but nonetheless she turns her back to us and walks into her room, shutting the window as quickly as she left. I let out a sigh, staring at the empty space on the balcony for a few moments, then finally turn my attention back to my training.
-Leila
I finally feel my eyes drifting shut, when a knock on the door of my new bedroom brings me back to my harsh reality. The painting on my ceiling stares right back at me and it reminds me that I'm not on the always hot and humid island I used to call home. Instead, I'm in an iceland, destined to marry a man who doesen't seem to be even remotely attracted to me and probably hates the idea of sharing a bed with a demon.
"Come in", I mutter, forcing myself to sit up on the bed.
"Y-Your Highness", the girl who just entered the room bows her head, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves. "It's... it's an honor to meet you".
I regard her with a small smile, even though she's looking on the ground, then at the wall right behind me, everywhere but my eyes.
"My name's Alina and I will be serving you from now on".
"You may call me Leila, then".
She shakes her head. "I- I couldn't".
This makes my brows furrow. My servants back at home never had any problem with doing that, at least in private. "Why not?"
"It's improper", Alina shrugs and for a brief moment she sounds exactly like Atlas. "And you are... you're already on thin ice, your Highness".
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Her pale cheeks, scattered with freckles, turn the same shade of pink of my mother's favorite sparkly wine. Alina walks into the adjacent bathroom and a few moments later, I hear the sound of running water. 172Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjSULmnCEEE
I get up, following her into the other room and I find her pouring liquid soap into the quickly filling tub.
"Everyone's already heard about your... spectacle this morning".
I fold my arms over my chest. "My spectacle?"
"I-I heard some of the maids talking", she gestures towards the bathtub with her hand. "It's ready".
I take off the uncomfortably long nightgown -I have no idea how angels sleep in these things- and I waste no time before getting into the tub, the warm water soothing my skin.
"They said the prince must've felt so humiliated", Alina says, almost in a whisper. She gets behind me and starts washing my hair, so I'm left staring blankly at the tiled white wall in front of me. "May I give a word of advice, Your Highness?"
I nod. "Please".
"I know this all must feel very new to you, but angels value modesty and... some parts of you should really be for your husband's eyes only. I mean, anything below the collarbones".
I try to think of a plausible reason for that, but I come up short. The cold is clearly not an issue to them, so that can't be the reason. And why just the husband?
Also, this seems to only apply to men, since I'm fully naked in front of this girl I just met right now.
"Angels deeply care about tradition", she explains. "They won't accept you if you defy it. Also, it will diminish the prince's authority and I'm sure you're already aware how that will turn out".
Alina describes the angels' ways as though she's so far removed from them, even if she probably has lived among them for most of her life. She's technically not one of them, since servants have no powers nor wings, but she surely grew up having to abide to their traditions and laws.
Dressing myself has always been a form of self expression, one of the few I was allowed growing up. The Royal Family is held to a higher standard compared to regular civilians, thus some activities were not allowed by our mother. Being involved in what I'd wear to the various events we had to attend was one of my favorite things. I chose the fabric of the dresses, the cut, the colour, even all of the little details. Now, I probably still will be able to choose my dresses to a certain extent, but I will be extremely limited...
Why should I be the only one to follow their rules, when this is supposed to be an alliance between our people? Why can't the prince also follow my rules?
"How does the way I dress have anything to do with the prince's authority?"
Alina clears out her voice with a brief cough. "How... how do I brush your hair, Your Highness?"
Of course, just by looking at most of the women here, I should've known they would have no clue how to work with curly hair.
"You can stop calling me that, please", I tell her, still knowing she's probably not going to listen. "I'd prefer brushing it myself, if that also isn't improper".
"Of course".
I pretend to not having noticed the fact that she avoided my question. While I brush my hair, Alina moves on washing my body in complete silence. I know there's something else she's not telling me. A rule so specific about dress codes wouldn't be in place for no particular reason.
I didn't pay too much mind to the way the soldiers reacted this morning, brushing off their behaviour as them just finding me attractive, nothing new. But now, I can't help but feel it was much deeper than that.
"Alina?"
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Does this palace have a library?"
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