Fantastical (Fantasyland 3)

“Gods, Cora, she’s beloved but she’s not bright. It’s not nice but it’s well-known. Even you told me she’s dull as a post,” he retorted.

“I never said such a…”

Oh shit.

I never said such a thing because the Dara Goode in my world, my mother, was not dull as a post. Nowhere near it.

But the other Cora probably said that about her mother.

Blast!

“God!” I exclaimed, looking at the ceiling. “I hate the Cora of this world! She’s an utter… oof!”

There I was again on his shoulder.

“Tor!” I shrieked, beating at his back and kicking out my legs. “Let me down.”

“Quiet,” he commanded, squatting to pick up one of the sacks.

“I said… let… me…”

Crack!

Another slap on the ass.

Serious ouch.

God, I hated it when he did that.

“You’re having a bloody bath and you’re putting on some bloody clean clothes and some damned, bloody shoes,” he declared.

Oh.

Well then.

Okay.

He dumped me on Salem, swung up behind me, dug his heels in, barked, “Hee-yah!” and Salem burst out of the mouth of the cave.

I was on my belly but I carefully twisted and pulled myself to sitting even though my butt cheek still smarted from where he hit me and in this position he clearly felt the need to circle me with an arm and I knew this because he did exactly that.

I faced forward, ducked and swayed with him as the branches passed us and I couldn’t stop the smile spreading on my face or the word from hitting my brain.

And that word was, goodie.

* * *

Okay, let me tell you this…

The clothes in this world rocked!

We were back in the cave, I’d bathed in the river (it was still cold but he had soap, the soap smelled like lavender and I’d cleaned myself with it from head-to-toe) and I had on clothes and slippers.

And what clothes.

They were straight from a renaissance festival but they kicked ass.

A silky, pale pink, flowy top with gathers around the neckline and full flowing sleeves that gathered at the wrists. Also full, flowing skirts, these of a dusky purple with petticoats, these a lovely mint green and the bottoms were dripping with a same-color, glorious lace. To cinch in the flowy top, I was wearing a skintight vest, royal blue that hugged me at the midriff and shoved up my br**sts over its top, somehow providing support at the same time looking way, freaking cool. With the low-cut neckline of the shirt and the tight fit of the vest, I was displaying serious cle**age but from what I could tell, it… looked… awesome. There was also a braided belt in all the colors I was wearing that I tied to hang low on my waist.

And last, but not least, the underwear was d-i-v-i-n-e, divine. Silky, ivory shorts with delicate lace at the bottoms and matching camisole with lace at the bottom and bodice. These fit perfectly, clinging to the right places, tight to the right places looking crazy fabulous but comfortable as all get out.

And the capper was the shoes. Sweet little flat, no-heeled (but thick suede-soled) slippers made of purple satin. They were simple and comfortable at the same time they were fab…you… las.

I didn’t know how I’d feel wearing something like this day in and day out. There was a lot of a fabric, the skirts were danged heavy and I didn’t think it would be that great if it was hot or I had to do manual labor or something like that.

But right now, they were great. They felt strange on my body but they oddly fit perfectly, the colors were to-die-for and they were not that blasted nightgown (which I also, by the by, took the opportunity with the lavender soap to clean in the river).

For once in nearly three days I was content.

We’d come back, Tor had disappeared, I’d finished my sweeping, arranged the grass and hides and although I was starved, my body was tired, I was clean and I had on a killer outfit.

This would work for me for now. This was lemons and I was making some freaking tasty lemonade, let me tell you.

The hide was swept back at the opening but Noctorno didn’t enter. He stood there holding the skins back and scowling at me.

“Yo,” I greeted him with a smile.

He kept scowling at me.

Then he grunted, “Come.”

I blinked before asking, “What?”

“We’re going to dinner.”

I blinked again and, get this, I felt my heart get light.

“What?” I breathed.

“I need a pulse and you need food. Come.”

“A pulse?”

“The feel of the land, a sense of what’s happening out there… the pulse. Now, come.”

I shot to my feet, still smiling and agreed with an, “Okay.”

He glowered at me as I walked (with only a slight limp, I had on my killer slippers but that didn’t mean my feet weren’t still raw) toward him.

The minute the pelts fell into place behind us, he swept me up in his arms and I let out a surprised girlie shriek before my arm automatically circled his shoulders.

“What on –?”

“Gods, Cora, just be quiet,” he muttered on a sigh.

“Okey dokey,” I muttered back.

If he wanted to carry me, so be it. I mean, the cave wasn’t that big so he didn’t have to carry me far.

And anyway, I was feeling good. I was clean, had on actual clothes and he was going to feed me without me having to kiss him (or alternate activities) to get it.

I was not going to argue.

He set me on Salem, swung into the saddle behind me, rounded me with an arm and dug his heels into the steed.

Salem bolted out of the cave.

The sun was setting and it was close to dark as we cantered down the mountain.

“Is this safe?” I asked.

“We’ll soon find out,” was Tor’s not very reassuring response.

That shut me up.

But only for awhile.

“This outfit kicks ass,” I informed him and his arm tightened around my midriff in a weird way, like the movement was spontaneous and he didn’t mean to do it.

Then he asked, “Pardon?”

“This outfit,” I pointed to myself and twisted my neck to look back at him, “kicks freaking ass. I love it. It’s awesome.”

He looked down at my face as one of his thighs moved almost imperceptibly under my legs and Salem slowed.

“You like it?”

“No, Tor, I love it. The colors are beautiful and the shoes are totally fab…you…las.”

“Gods,” he whispered, his eyes moving over my face, “you like it.”