The drab gray dress, the brown hair, the scuffed slippers, and the warm necklace. My wardrobe might be dull and boring, but it was a sliver of normalcy in this sea of uncertainty. I tucked the pendant beneath the neckline of my gown, settling it over my sternum. Since Zavier seemed to hold no interest in my body or consummating this marriage, it would be perfectly safe between my breasts. I walked toward the pile of clothes and boots and swept them into a corner. If the Turans really wanted me to wear pants, they could knock before entering my room.
