Chapter 51: Who?
Eleonora shimmered into view, the carriage lamps catching on skin, steel, and scandal. Her outdoor‑maid skirt swept low, yet the loose hem looked ready to rip away at a cruel tug. Her belt‑cinched waist flexed; the long skirt murmured over her boots in a hush of starched pleats. She’d swapped the usual blouse for a crisp suit shirt, its tails and the skirt both tucked into her belt.
The mash‑up looked eccentric, exactly as she intended. Mia had balked at first, saying it mirrored Jett’s own clothes, so Eleonora compromised on a black suit shirt that matched the maid dress’s darker tones.
With a sword hanging at her hip, she resembled a knight‑maid, a striking counterpoint to Noctlisa.
As much as this situation won’t let me soak it in the way I’d like... Jett raked his gaze over Eleonora from head to toe. She’s gorgeous! Jett’s pulse thumped in his ears—the same cadence the carriage wheels had kept, only faster, rougher.
Silver hair framed a striking face, every line elegant yet lethal. A single lock slid across her cheek as she breathed. Her argent eyes were vast and inquisitive, yet ready to dole out ruin to anyone who threatened her master. The borrowed shirt stretched indecently over her cannon‑sized curves, pearly buttons straining like teeth on a zipper.
Yet again, Jett grasped that he now traveled with women who eclipsed every celebrity back on Earth—Mia, Noctlisa, and now Eleonora.
Eleonora pressed a hand to her breast and dipped into a shallow bow, her tone a poised alto. "I am—" she drew in a measured breath, the shirt quivering "—ready for your swiftest command, Master."
Jett nodded, the air seeming to cool as business reclaimed them. "I’m counting on you with this Skia mess. Think they’re still holding out?"
"Indeed," she replied. "Though years have passed, I’m confident my family has kept the capital’s defenses in peak condition—perhaps even improved them. The dragons may have accounted for those mechanisms, yet their rage and arrogance leave them blind."