Guards stopped her. Two men in full plate armor, visors down. They saw her tunic. They saw her bare legs beneath. One of them laughed. “Lost, little font? Women’s quarters are west.”
“That’s physics,” he replied softly. He gestured to a chair. “Sit. I will keep my robe on, but I will also keep my hands where you can see them. Now: what do you feel when you are naked before a clothed man?” cmnf fantasy
Or so everyone believed. Elara had never questioned the Tithe. She had grown up in the chilly, drafty manor of her father, Lord Brys, a minor baron of the Salt Flats. Every morning, she had risen, left her nightgown on a hook by the door, and walked barefoot down the stone corridor to the breakfast hall, where her father sat fully dressed in his dark gray doublet, wool breeches, and leather boots. He would look up from his porridge, nod once, and say, “Good morning, daughter. You are a blessing to this house.” Guards stopped her
The dryad held out a hand. Her fingers were twigs, but warm. “You don’t. You show them. One by one. Woman by woman. And every time one of them stands naked without a clothed man in sight, another stone falls from their prison.” They saw her bare legs beneath
“You’re naked under that, I assume?” the second guard said, bored. “Technically, that’s fine. But the tunic is a man’s garment. That’s a crime.”