Cameron To Candy

Candy took it easy that night. She’d changed into her softest nightdress and cocooned herself under blankets while Marcus fussed in the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back upstairs, balancing a tray with a teapot and two cups. He also set a folder on the bedside table, the one she’d asked him to fetch earlier in the day.

It contained the lists the Ministry required of her: accomplishments to be met within her first year of marriage. The curtsy count class. The verbal affirmations class. A cooking requirement, at least one supervised meal she couldn’t burn. A backstory review, where a Ministry official would test her on every fabricated detail of her supposed upbringing. Attend a feminine hygiene assembly in preparation of Lactation Week, a prospect she dreaded. With her body uniquely shaped the way it was, she had to wonder if the flu would even affect her. Could she lactate? She prayed to Mammetta, goddess of Mammaries, that she couldn't. And, looming at the bottom of page three, in tidy ink, the marital tattoo, to be received before the first year of marriage was out.

“Wow, Candy, you’ve had a busy day, bathhouse and near-death experience.”

She snorted. “Something like that.”

He set her cup within reach, sat on the edge of the bed with his. “Seriously, how are you doing?”

“I’m okay, actually,” she said, then lifted the cup to her lips.

The Guards note had l briefed Marcus but he’d gotten the full story from Vivian who had blurted the entire story when she walked Candy home and Marcus met them at the door. But Candy couldn’t stop replaying it in her head. Things had moved fast. Civilians grabbed the horse before he could trample anyone. Then the guards came down like a hammer. A matron just appeared, patched her up, and made sure her toe wasn’t broken. And they’d even made the rider apologize to her face, not part of the punishment, they just did it!.

Marcus watched her quietly. “It sounded a little scary.”

“Yeah, it was,” Candy admitted, setting her cup down, “but you know how Paddlewick beats down danger. We saw it as soldiers out there. I just didn’t expect it at home too. I guess Paddlewick’s Paddlewick everywhere.”

Her eyes drifted to the folder. The Ministry’s tidy seals stared back at her, a neat reminder of the year’s expectations. She tugged it onto her lap but didn’t open it yet, running her fingers over the edge of the parchment. This experience had reminded her that Paddlewick wouldn’t wait forever. She had things to do.

Marcus tried to lighten the air. “So… what did you do at the bathhouse? Other than not drown?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual gabbin. Us women like to talk.”

Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Probably talking about what men are cute, right?”

“Oh totally. You’ve got the best grip on the female experience I’ve ever heard. You should write a book!” They laughed at the low level banter for a moment. “No, but seriously, we talked allowances, weekend plans. I may have slipped in a little backdoor bragging about Penny, you know, cousin-in-law to Paddlwicks' new famous influencer.”

Marcus smiled. “She’s getting popular now. Who’d have thought it? Oh, speaking of, we should probably discuss setting your official allowance.”

Candy lowered her cup, eyes narrowing. “Hey, you know that’s demeaning.”

“Well, yeah, but you’ll stand out too much if we don’t.”

“Then I’ll just say I have one and we can stick to the bowl.”

“Sorry, Candy, this’ll be easier.” He leaned back, studying her. “Oh, before I forget again, earlier this evening, you said there was something I needed to know. What was it?”

Candy sighed. “Oh. Well… everyone now thinks you made me get a breast augmentation spell.”

Marcus nearly choked on his tea. “What? Why?”

“Well, Marilyn, one of the girls, her husband got her one. She said she wasn’t used to her boobs yet. And I, idiot that I am, went, ‘oh yeah, me neither’. And then thought, oh crap, I just outed myself. But Vivian jumped in like, oh, so you got a spell too, apparently they’d thought these were magically perked for a while, so I ran with it. Honestly, it really works with the cover story.”

Marcus slapped a hand over his face. “Great, now I’m that kind of guy.”

“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Candy said. Then smirked. “Plus, you know, I got to feel theirs after. Marilyn’s and Mona’s.”

Marcus lowered his hand slowly. “What. I don’t know who these women are, but I definitely want to hear about it.”

She laughed. “Allowance first. Then maybe the boob story.”

“Fine,” he said, “Allowance. I’m thinking… one and a half silver.”

Candy raised a brow. “One point five? That’s low! You absolute cheapskate!”

“What do you care? You rarely spend anything. I mean, that’s more than you usually use anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Candy said firmly. “Apparently, there’s a whole hierarchy. If I show up that low I’m going to get laughed at. Or worse, pitied!”

Marcus blew out a breath. “Okay, one point six.”

“No, two silver even, minimum.”

“Nope, firm one point six.”

“Okay,” Candy said with a sly grin, “one point eight, and I’ll tell you the boob story.”

He thought about it, biting his lower lip, opened his mouth to speak, shut it again, then finally extended his hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

"So," Marcus started. "About those boobs..."