You’d been absolutely outraged when Grim had dragged you to the equivalent of a gentleman’s club. A gentleman’s club. Had he no shame? Though in hindsight, it got you dressed in silks so skimpy you felt naked, however you got the treasures information you came here for. Look at the positives, Poppy always used to scold you.

Poppy and Terra, you blow out a breath. You hadn’t thought of them in months. Since arriving at the Centennial, the one event every hundred years where one realm leader can break their curse, you’ve been robotically following their instructions.

‘Pretend you’re not powerless.’

You shake your head, thanking one of the other girls here for handing you the silks. Grim glared as he leant against a wall, watching the short interaction. You scoff. “Be lucky you get to see the, Wildling Temptress.”

You disappear behind curtains, and change, though the thick and heavy velvet feels all too sheer and thin, the curtains doing nothing to erase or blur out the hole hes burning through, watching you. You fix your hair so it looks less prim, borrow some of the lipstick from the vanity desks, and readjust the silks, so they don’t fall.

You step out and Grim’s eyes went from slate grey to a lethal onyx. His pupils were blown wide as he lazily dragged his eyes over your long smooth legs, the curve of your waist, your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your face, the lipstick. All of it, he was rooted to the spot. “The Wildling Temptress,” he whispers, admirably.

He would never tell you that he was moments away from falling to his knees before you. That he would worship the ground you walk on, for a moment of your attention, affection, praise. “How do I look?” You ask nervously.