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And then he’s gone.

I feel the absence of his heat like a shock of ice water, my knees snapping closed. It’s the first time it occurs to me in any significant way that he hadn’t strapped me down after taking my blood. Hastily, I tug the thin gown down over my thighs, still feeling his sticky release all over me.

Over by the door, he shucks the gloves, the broad line of his back expanding and contracting with deep breaths. “This isn’t working.”

My throat clicks with a nervous swallow. I can’t help but picture the lines of scars on his back, knowing what’s beneath the shirt, and when he turns to wash his hands, I guiltily snap my gaze up to his face. “What?”

“The gown gets in the way.” He’s scrubbing his hands beneath the stream of water, eyes fixed on the rough, jerky movements. “Next time, you’ll undress and stay that way. We’re past the need for modesty. We have a job to do.”

“Oh,” I breathe, detecting more of that defensive tone from before. “Okay.”

If he’s surprised by my easy agreement, then he doesn’t show it. He tears three paper towels off the wall, rubs them between his palms, and then throws them away before marching out of the room.

He never even glances back.

Sinking heavily back onto the table, I stretch my muscles, sighing in satisfaction. “Okay.”

“To my beautiful Princess.May she reign.” -HD

I take the next rose, giving a small thanks. I ask myself a lot of idle questions as the line of PNZ members approaches me at the fountain. I wonder where all the roses come from. There must be a florist in Forsyth who looks forward to Mondays. What did the past Princesses do with all their roses? Compost?

Behind me, my Princes are audibly impatient as the frat makes their Monday offerings. Shoes scuff the stone as Pace shifts his weight. Wicker’s sole taps a slow rhythm. Lex’s bag rustles as he moves it from shoulder to shoulder. What makes it worse is the presence of Laura, Kathleen, and Andrea ten feet away.

I’m just reaching out to take the last boy’s rose when I realize it isn’t a rose at all.

The guy, Tommy, who I recognize from my digital design class, gives me a tense smile. “I don’t want to offend you, Princess. It’s used, but it still works perfectly.” In his hands is a product box with a photo of a graphics drawing tablet on it. “I only tried it out a couple times.”

I give a series of rapid blinks. “That’s… for me?”

Behind me, the Princes are suddenly still.

He nods, pushing it into my hands. “I heard you on Friday, when you were asking Professor Moore if the department had any extras.”

I hold the box in my hands, stunned. “Tommy, this is–this is too much.”

He gives me a strange look. “It’s nothing fancy. There’s some extra stylus tips, but–”

“Are you done?” Lex’s hard voice is practically in my ear, the heat of him close enough that I realize he’s right over my shoulder.

Tommy’s mouth clicks shut. “Yes. Yessir.” And then he scurries away.

“Ass-kissing little bitch,” Pace mutters, appearing over my other shoulder. “What do you need a drawing tablet for anyway? I already gave you a laptop.”

I clutch the box close, unable to shake the worry that they’ll take it away from me. “I can’t draw on a laptop,” I say, thinking of the photos I have of the solarium. I’d wanted something to sketch over them with.

Pace eyes the box, mouth a flat, tense line. “It could have spyware on it or something.”

“Spyware? It doesn’t. It can’t,” I insist, backing away. “It’s just a USB device.”

There’s a shadow in Pace’s eyes that makes me shiver. “We shouldn’t take the chance,” he says, reaching out. “Give it to–”

Wicker’s firm voice stops him. “Back the fuck off.” He’s sitting on the low wall, a frown etched into his forehead as he watches Pace. “It’s a covenant that every Princess accepts her gifts. It’s what makes all this worth it to them. It’s hers, by every right.” He stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and I’m struck speechless at the flash of protectiveness in his eyes when he looks at his brothers.

Not of them, nor of me.

He’s protective of my right to keep my gift.

The whole thing is puzzling, considering the last ‘gift’ he gave me was a free ticket to the next home game to watch him play hockey.