You can't wear that

One week had passed. Seven excruciating days of putting up with Captain Ren Khasar. If I could stab her and not cause an international scandal or risk my father's wrath I would have done it already.

The woman was insufferable. She trailed me everywhere, that infuriating smirk plastered on her face like she owned the very ground she walked on.

Her sheer arrogance was enough to boil my blood. And don't even get me started on her casual attitude. Ren was the kind of person who acted like everything was a joke, including her duty to protect me.

Not that there had been much to protect me from. There hadn't been a single attack since the banquet incident, which was both a relief and a source of irritation.

No danger meant Ren had nothing to do except lounge around, get on my nerves, and look smug while doing it.

Her mere presence grated on me. She walked into rooms with an air of dominance, her tattoos, those ridiculous, showy marks on her neck and arms constantly visible. They only added to her infuriating charm, which, annoyingly, seemed to work on everyone except me.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The thought of stabbing her flashed through my mind again, unbidden but oh-so-satisfying.

I could picture it now: her startled expression, followed by her dramatic collapse. A world without Ren's incessant sarcasm was a world I would pay handsomely to live in.

But alas, I was stuck with her. And tonight, of all nights, she was proving to be even more of a headache than usual.

"You can't wear that to dinner," I snapped, glaring at her combat gear.

Ren raised an eyebrow, leaning lazily against the doorframe of my room. "What's wrong with this?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit. "It's functional, comfortable, and perfect for keeping you safe."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my composure. "It's a formal dinner at Minister Alden's estate, not a battlefield."

"Same thing, isn't it?" Ren quipped, her lips curling into that infuriating smirk.

"No," I hissed. "It is not the same thing. People there will be wearing gowns and suits, not…" I waved vaguely at her leather armor. "Whatever that is."

"Princess, do you know how many times I've saved people while wearing this 'whatever that is'?" she countered, crossing her arms.

"I don't care if you've saved the entire kingdom in it!" I snapped. "You are not stepping into a nobleman's dining room dressed like a mercenary."

Ren shrugged nonchalantly. "Your father didn't seem to have a problem with it."

"My father isn't the one who will be humiliated," I shot back. "I am. Do you know how many eyes will be on me tonight? And, by extension, you?"

"Sounds like a you problem, Princess," she said, her smirk growing wider.

My patience snapped. "Ren Khasar, if you show up to that dinner in that ridiculous outfit, I will personally set you on fire."

Ren straightened slightly, her eyes narrowing in mock offense. "Wow, violent much? And here I thought we were bonding."

"We will never bond," I hissed. "Now, change into something appropriate. Or so help me, I will—"

"Fine, fine," Ren interrupted, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'll change. But only because I'd hate for you to have a meltdown before your precious dinner."

I glared at her as she left to get changed, muttering curses under my breath. If I had to put up with one more of her sarcastic remarks, I was going to lose my mind.

Ten minutes later, she returned. And I hated myself for the way my breath caught.

Ren was wearing a tailored black and red suit, the fabric sleek and perfectly fitted to her athletic frame.

The red accents on the lapels and cuffs added a sharp, striking touch, making the whole outfit look both elegant and dangerous. Her shirt was a crisp black, and she wore a tie loosely knotted at her neck, somehow making it look effortlessly stylish.

Her tattoos were still visible, curling up her neck and down her hands, and instead of clashing with the formal attire, they enhanced her look. The intricate patterns made her seem even more powerful, a walking storm of fire and confidence.

Ren smirked, clearly noticing the way I was staring. "Well? Does this meet your royal standards?"

I scowled, forcing myself to look away. "It'll do."

"It'll do?" she echoed, her tone teasing. "Princess, I look fantastic, and you know it."

"Don't flatter yourself," I snapped, though the heat rising to my cheeks betrayed me. "Just… let's go. We're already late."

Ren chuckled softly, falling into step behind me as we made our way to the waiting carriage.

The carriage was as ornate as expected, its gold-trimmed frame gleaming in the evening light. The horses were impeccably groomed, their polished harnesses jingling softly as they shifted in place.

Ren climbed in first, her casual movements a stark contrast to the formality of the setting. I followed, smoothing my gown as I settled onto the plush seat opposite her.

As the carriage began to move, I glanced at Ren, who was gazing out the window with that maddening air of indifference.

"Please don't embarrass me there," I said sharply.

Ren turned to me, her smirk returning. "No promises, Princess."

I sighed, already regretting everything about tonight.