Chapter 17
Not since she was six years old when her nanny had forced her kicking and screaming into a puke green monstrosity to wear for her parent’s function had Alara been so angry to be putting on clothes. What was offered by Ser Stratford to wear on the day following her humiliation at the man’s hands was not only inappropriate for a young lady her age but also three sizes too small at least. The trousers laid out for her in the closet that served as a changing room hugged her hips so tight, she could hardly tie the drawstring, and the pant legs came down to only her mid-calf. The blouse was no better, obviously something made for a young boy judging from where it tugged at her.
A short boy at that, Alara thought, looking down at her exposed stomach where the blouse failed to fully
