Z had a house just off the forum in Luvatha because of course they did. It was a city of indulgence, and Z was Lushale’s most notorious indulger. So, when they’d arrived that evening, Z had ushered them into a lavish city home, all cool, colorful tile and polished stone, most of the rooms open to each other, separated only by bright silks and stone columns. Being the only child of one of the queen’s two best friends had its perks.
A table of fruit was set out in the atrium in honor of their arrival, and servants wrapped in bright white fabric scurried around to welcome them, to take their sandals, to offer wine or water, to take their bags—
“Oh, thank you, but I’ll keep this one with me,” Belle said, patting the brown, entirely unfashionable bag slung over her shoulder. She glanced at Jac, but the brown-skinned blonde was zeroed in completely on the food, already grabbing an entire dish of strawberries and tucking it under her arm.
“Lady Belle,” and the servant before her bowed low, their chunky necklace of multicolored squares swinging forward and jangling.
Jewelry or accessories of any kind were never seen on house attendants, not unless the attendants were “decorated” by the head of house for special occasions—but that was because by and large house attendants were enslaved. They had no possessions to wear because they themselves were considered possessions.
Z had, in recent years, freed all the servants they could—those claimed by their mother were beyond their reach, but the ones serving Z’s own houses had all been freed. Most had stayed on to serve Z for pay—it could be guessed that was because Z had always treated them well, and Belle did believe they had, but she suspected the fact that most of the servants had been born in the houses they served, never knowing what it was to be free, and they simply continued doing what they always had. Now they just did it with jewelry and the occasional day off.
Belle felt a hand on the small of her back, then Z’s voice in her ear. “Come with me to get dressed.”
She leaned back against them. “I am dressed.”
“But I’m not,” Z said, and Belle knew it was more about their face than their clothes—she had already noticed the shift in their magic away from the masculine. “I need your advice before we go out in search of this beast of a man—I met him with this face last time and he wanted to kill me.”
She hesitated. “Alright, um. Give me just a minute and I’ll meet you in your bedroom—I wanted to stop by the courtyard for a breath of fresh air—”
In a whisper, Z said, “Fresh air for the monster in your bag, you mean.”
Belle pulled her lips in between her teeth, watching Jac warily—but she was busy wiping pomegranate juice from her chin only to drench it once more when she scraped out another mouthful of the seeds with her teeth.
“How the hell did you keep him so quiet and still?” Z asked.
She sent them a sheepish smile over her shoulder and shrugged. “Magic.”
“I want lessons in that magic. It might save my life when I face Ubika again.”
“Okay.”
And they used that hand on her back to guide her out into the courtyard. Z grabbed one of the attendants and asked that they be given a warning, should Jac come looking for them. Belle hadn’t really thought she could hide Kitten from Z—their own monster senses would catch on to the presence of even a snoozing Kitten nearby eventually. And she knew Jac would catch on soon enough too, but … she only needed enough time to come up with a solution. Jac was worried about her, she knew. Hell, Belle was worried about herself, about what would happen to her magic if she lost this little baby monster. And she had left that carriage with Kitten fully intending to tell him goodbye.
She had carried him out to a safe place away from the road and woken him and done her best to explain that she loved him, but it would be safer for him if he stayed there. And he had sat there on his butt with his legs sticking out to either side, front paws resting on his chubby little belly full of turkey leg, watching her in silence as if he understood completely. She’d given him a teary kiss on his nose, dodged when he tried to bite her, and turned to leave—
And he had trotted right after her. It reminded her so much of Clarix trying to follow her into Urden that it broke her heart all over again. She did the whole routine, guiding him back to the spot and telling him to stay and trying again to leave. And he trotted after her every time.
Until the time that he got fed up and instead of trotting after her, he just launched his whole little body at her, driving all four legs into her gut and knocking her onto her back. And then he’d plopped his butt on her chest and sat there, satisfied.
She couldn’t argue with that.
So she’d told him she was going to put him back to sleep for a while, and snuck him into the back of the carriage where their luggage was. As long as she stayed close enough to him, she could keep working her magic on him to keep him calm and sleepy. It was a type of manipulation magic which she would never use on him without explaining why, and when she did explain, he hadn’t indicated any resistance. Already, he trusted her wholly. Or maybe he was just still sleepy and was fine with returning to his dreams, it was hard to tell.
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The courtyard was sizable, considering the fact that they were in a densely populated area of the city. High, whitewashed stone walls gave them privacy from the neighbors, and the yard was lush and colorful—obviously the attendants took pride in maintaining the landscaping. Belle danced over the patio, appreciating the coolness of the mosaic floor before bounding onto the soft grass, wiggling her toes in it. She pulled the bag over her head and sunk into a squat as she gently set the bag down. She parted the sides of the bag to reveal a snoozing Kitten, legs splayed.
She tugged back her magic, letting the beast’s own magic return to its normal state. Then she placed a palm on his swollen belly and jiggled him slightly.
Instantly, his legs were flailing, jaws snapping, claws flying while he fought to get himself right side up. The moment he got all four of his legs under him, he took off. The attendant waiting by the patio doors yelped as he zoomed by, skittering across the tiles of the patio and face-planting into a wall. But this didn’t so much as daze him—he rushed off again immediately, tearing through the courtyard, grass flying behind him.
When he’d made a few laps and grown bored of this, he aimed his steps at Belle and launched himself once again, four paws straight out and mouth open, black tongue lolling. Belle dodged him and whirled so that the moment he crashed back into the ground she could “bite” at him with her hands, play-growling. He quickly gathered himself and leapt once again, for her face this time. She dodged again, but he managed to catch the thick, yellow rope that was her braid and clamped on. Laughing, Belle twirled so Kitten, hanging from her braid, swung in a low, slow circle around her, all four of his feet tucked up in front of his belly, his slit-pupiled, yellow-green eyes wide with alarm.
“Ay,” Z said indignantly from where they were leaning up against a column, grinning at the scene, “I worked hard weaving that braid, don’t ruin it, you little beast.”
Taking this as a challenge, Kitten released his jaws and, once he’d tumbled his way back on his feet, sprinted at Z.
“Oh, sh—!”
Z ducked behind the column just in time and Kitten skidded over the patio, scrabbling with his claws to catch his grip and change course.
“Ay, Nyx, get—!” Z broke off to yelp as Kitten skittered around the column, nearly nipping Z’s ankle. “Get your beast under control!”
But Belle had fallen to the grass, laughing. Watching Z, normally so composed and cocky, running around and around a column on their own patio from a tiny beast was just too fucking funny. It felt so good to let this moment fill her.
She was laughing hard enough that she missed the warm look Z sent her way, missed when they leaned down so Kitten could catch the hem of their chlamys in his jaws.
“Ay! You know how much this cos—”
Riiiiip.
Kitten had planted all four feet and jerked backwards again and again, nearly tugging Z to their knees, until the fabric gave way.
“Oh!” Belle scrambled to her feet, still giggling. “Kitten, no, don’t—!”
But the pin that held the chlamys around Z’s neck finally popped loose and Kitten tried to run off with his prize—only to immediately get tangled in it. Belle was sent into another giggle fit.
How all of this went on and escaped Jac’s notice, Belle would never know, but an hour or so later as the sun was setting, Kitten had managed to tucker himself out and was once again in a magic-encouraged sleep in Belle’s bag, which rested on Z’s bed while Belle helped them choose their attire for a night of searching Luvatha for a rogue Selachian.
Belle lay stretched over Z’s enormous, cloud-soft bed and its purple silk sheets, absentmindedly stroking the bag in which Kitten lay while a completely naked Z examined every outfit on display in their oversized closet. There were traditional tunics, togas, and peploses all of fine fabrics in the bright colors that denoted Z’s wealth, and the more modern suits, button shirts, pants, and corsets.
Z paused in their consideration of the closet, then spun to look at Belle. A slow smile crawled onto their beautiful face. “There are few sights I enjoy as much as that of a beautiful woman lying on my bed.”
Belle quirked a playful eyebrow. “And her monster, too?”
“So long as he stays out of the way,” Z said, then, as if something just occurred to them, they strode out of the closet and leaned forward onto their elbows on the tall bed, hazel eyes darting back and forth between Belle’s. “Is it your softness? Is that why all the monsters fall for you?”
Belle dropped her head to one side and frowned thoughtfully. She considered this for a moment before saying, “Pretty sure it’s just my ears—I keep them open. What did you name me—little Lady Eyes-and-Ears? I listen. Anyone’s a lot more willing to listen if they know you’re willing to listen, too. Monsters even more so than people.”
“I’m an excellent listener,” Z said, “but Kure still tried to kill me.”
“Well.” Her eyes searched the ceiling, thinking. “Were you listening to know how best to charm him, or were you listening to actually understand?”
Z blinked. “I don’t understand the question.”
Belle snorted and shook her head. “Yes, it’s my softness.”
“I knew it.”
Z pushed off of the bed and spun once more, their magic whipping up around them and taking on a rosy, cloudy quality. Their—her—body began to jerk, muscle and bone shifting beneath her skin, some parts collapsing and others smoothing. Ample curves bloomed on her silhouette, and her shoulders shifted in, narrowed. She kept the same tanned skin, but added a strawberry blush to her honey curls and let them drip down her spine. Her eyes, still hazel, grew wider, rounder, and the pout of her lips from a moment before became even poutier.
Once everything had settled, Z gave one final turn, arms held aloft, to display this new look to Belle, and she said, “Name me.”
Belle dropped her chin into her hand and smiled. Breathless, she said, “Beautiful.”