10. Chapter 10
I’m ushered down the corridor and through another swinging door that leads me straight into a bathing chamber featuring a big bay window overlooking the Leviathan Sea. In a place where shards of sunlight wrap around my twig-laden hair and warm my dirt-streaked cheeks.
“Goodness, you’re a disaster!” the first maid tuts, her soft blonde curls bouncing as she talks.
The smattering of freckles over her nose crinkle along with her distraught expression.
She looks to be my age, perhaps a little bit older, but her voice is filled with an ageless wisdom that I lack.
“The queen will not be pleased about this, not one bit,” she continues, ushering me toward a porcelain tub looming in the room’s corner, where she motions for me to get undressed.
“Let’s get you into the bath quickly and never speak of this again. Shall we?”
“How’d you get so dirty?” the second maids blurts out, her big, oval eyes the same shade as frosted diamonds, her hair and skin both as pale as snow. When she blushes, her round cheeks fill with color, only to turn porcelain again.
“Sister, I think our guest would appreciate a bit of discretion,” the first maid says in a chastising tone.
“It’s alright,” I say to the both of them, glancing down at my dismal attire. “I don’t usually look this dirty. It’s just… there was a man in the forest.”
“A man in the forest?” the third maid gasps, whose warm brown skin compliments her bright amber eyes.
Her black hair is cropped short just underneath her ears, which are decorated in weighted earrings and jingle when she tips her head in concern.
“What in Heaven’s sake were you doing in the forest?
” she asks, her soothing voice a much-needed comfort.
I wring my hands together and consider how to answer. “Well, it all started with the queen’s mandate that all mortals be married by the end of the week. Have you heard about that?”
The three of them slowly nod, signaling they’re listening intently. I inhale a sharp breath and continue. “Right. Well, first my boyfriend dumped me for another woman. And then there was this parade for the queen. I met a man there who was as tall and dark as he was handsome, and he followed me.”
“He followed you?” the first maid squeaks.
“Yeah. To the inn. He stabbed the innkeeper to protect me. And then I sort of followed him into the forest to get away from the Divine Army."
The three of them stop nodding, their smiles fading instantly.
“You went into the forest with a strange man?” the second maid asks.
“Yes,” I wearily admit, realizing now how ridiculous it sounds.
“He cooked me fish,” I add, as if this justifies my story somehow.
“Oh, and he let me ride on the back of his wolf. He was perfect… until he wasn’t.
” I let my shoulders slump. “Anyway, I can get undressed myself. If you’ll all just…
” I motion with my finger for the three of them to turn around.
They do as I ask, busying themselves with organizing the colorful jars on the makeup vanity tucked underneath the window and whispering under their breaths.
Oh, Heavens…
I sigh as I lower myself into the water.
The bath is filled with pearly bubbles and water so scalding, the liquid sinks into my raw and aching muscles, relaxing them immediately.
I relish beneath the feeling of being weightless and safe for now and exhale a breath before submersing myself entirely.
You’re going to lose your ever-loving mind once you learn what’s happened to me, Solara.
Augustine betrayed me. What were you saying again, about how I should trust him?
“Can we turn back around yet?” one of them asks.
I glance down to make sure the bubbles are covering all my sensitive bits and then say, “Yes,” if only so they stop rearranging the doilies on the vanity for the eighteenth time.
They flock to the bath to assist me, the first maid scrubbing underneath my fingernails.
The second washes out my curtain of dark hair, even though I protest profusely that I can wash it myself.
The third stares at the exposed raven spellmark on my forearm, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Raven,” she whispers, garnering the collective attention of the other two.
The first maid drops her bar of soap as her gaze falls on my spellmark. “Great Mother, spare us,” she gasps.
“What? No! That’s not—” I shriek, plunging my arm beneath the bubbles in a failed attempt to conceal the evidence. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’d been so exhausted by the journey, so enamored by all the squeaky-clean soapsuds, that I’d forgotten entirely about my spellmark.
Careless mistakes get you killed, Shay.
The first maid’s eyes widen like she’s suddenly seeing me in a new light.
I’m tempted to rush out of the tub and make a run for it, but that would require a towel, and I don’t know where they’re hiding.
And it’s not like I can exactly make a run for it naked.
That would only draw the entire castle’s attention to my spellmark… amongst other things.
“Shh, it’s okay,” the maid whispers, leaning down over the side of the tub and motioning for me to be quiet. “Your secret is safe with us.”
Being that I’m completely unprepared for this conversation, the only thing that manages to crawl out of my mouth is a half-strung-together fragment, paired with a gulp. “You won’t report me to the queen?” Oh gods, this is bad. Like really, really bad.
The third maid’s eyes soften. “We answer to you, Raven. No one else.”
“What?” I stare at them all in bewilderment, feeling vulnerable and raw in places beneath my skin where the water can’t reach. There’s a bounty over my head. A generous bounty at that, ordered by the queen. So why aren’t they all rushing out the door right now to spill my greatest secret?
“Why did you call me that… Raven?” I ask, blinking slowly. “I mean, aside from the obvious reason.” I hold up my arm and jerk my chin toward my raven spellmark. “You speak as if it’s my name or something.”
Which is funny, because Augustine did the same thing.
The third servant scrounges up a fresh towel and holds it out near the edge of the tub. “It is prophesied that the raven is destined to save us all from the gods,” she says.
Oh gods. This just keeps getting worse and worse…
A shiver skitters down my spine, despite all the warm water needling into my muscles.
“And you really believe all that nonsense?” I ask, knowing full well that prophecies are fairytales meant to stir up bouts of insanity.
The three of them don’t seem to share the same thoughts, however, because they nod as if the wording of the prophecy is law.
I blow out a breath. “Well then, at least now I understand why the queen wants my head. She thinks that some cute yet treacherous little bird is going to destroy her.” I snort at this.
“How ridiculous.” Without further ado, I step out of the tub as gracefully as I can, shivering to the bone as my heavy hair sops against my back.
What feels like a wisp of tufted clouds rubs against my goose-pebbled skin when the third maid immediately wraps me in a fresh towel.
“Thanks…” I say to her, only to pause. “Wait. What are your names?”
“Servants of the queen are not allowed names,” the first maid says.
I hug the towel closer to my body, her statement making me scrunch my nose in disbelief.
I’ve known many servants over the years, most of whom I met back when I lived with the son of Lord Graves, many of whom I was very fond of.
All of them had names, identities, and even families.
They were all compensated incredibly fairly. What makes these three any different?
“The queen is not as warm-blooded as she makes herself seem to be,” the second servant explains after seeming to notice my befuddled expression.
At this, she sweeps up a little jar of silver paint from the vanity and moves to decorate my toenails.
Her voice drops down to a sad little echo, one that carves out a piece of my heart and leaves behind a gaping hole in its wake.
“Even if we wanted to use our birth-given names, the queen long ago stripped us of our memories. We wouldn’t be able to recall them if we tried. ”
“She took your memories?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“It’s true,” the third servant pipes in. “Whenever I have thoughts of leaving this place, I remember that I can’t recall the way out.”
“You’re prisoners here?” I ask, my voice cracking in my throat.
I’m surprised that the windowpanes don’t split from the weight of the silence that follows, considering how it’s so damn heavy.
“This is unacceptable. You require names. I will call you Sunshine,” I say to the first servant, forcing out a half-hearted smile in a feeble attempt to scoop up a slice of warmth from this cold world and give it back to her.
“Because your hair reminds me of a field of sunflowers. I always admired sunflowers growing up, and I…” I drift off, struggling to recall that specific piece of my childhood for some reason.
Sunshine’s eyes twinkle beneath the light, and her mask of concern slips. “It’s an honor to be bestowed a name from the one destined to save us all from the gods,” she says.
“I don't know if I'd go that far,” I snort as another bout of silence hangs in the air. This time, the silence feels like pulverized glass. So palpable and sharp, I swear that I could scoop it up into my palms, forge it together in the mines of Malgrave, and use it against my enemies as a weapon.
Sunshine clears her throat, sundering the awkward silence with, “We must hurry before Regent grows suspicious.”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand as realization dawns over me. “Why does the butler have a name but the three of you don’t?”
“The butler is the queen’s personal favorite,” the third servant explains, her amber eyes burrowing into mine. “He earned the title of Regent by betraying his own kin, most of whom are now dead.”
“Dead?” I choke out.
“The raven does not want to hear about these dreary stories, Sister,” the second servant remarks as she reveals a thick mahogany gown from the folds of her arm.
“If Regent has ordered us to hurry, then that means the queen has ordered us to hurry. If we dally, he will report our deviant behavior to her, and she will punish us accordingly.”
I snatch the gown from her hands with the intent of slipping it on quickly.
“Wait,” the third servant interjects, nearly tackling me to the ground.
“You need a gown with sleeves to conceal your spellmark. Here.” In one fluid motion, she whisks the mahogany out of my arms and replaces it with something far more splendid.
It’s a gown woven from silk and midnight, with obsidian sleeves and a hem stitched with a million little rhinestones.
Along with being buttery smooth, the gown features a brazen back that dips over my back dimples, as though the spool of fabric ran out too quickly.
“Thank you,” I say to her. She nods, her amber eyes glistening with hope. “Amber,” I whisper in sudden realization. “That is what I will call you. For you have the most beautiful eyes in the universe.” Eyes that look so familiar…
Amber nods, looks to the others, and then guides me toward the floor-length mirror on the other side of the room.
In the mirror, I notice that the gown leaves my bare spine covered only by my wet hair, which is so glossy from all the conditioning, I fear it’ll melt into a puddle behind me.
“You look stunning,” Amber says, her eyes widening, as if committing my gorgeous gown to memory.
Before I can respond in thanks, the other maids take flight, becoming a flurry of movement all around me. They smear liquified fire on my eyelids. Paint my lips with the dye of extracted rose petals. Brush my cheeks with bronzer and blush.
“Snow,” I say to the last servant as I carve her piercing eyes and pale white hair to memory. “Your eyes are so fierce, they could give someone frostbite. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Snow laughs at this, and then informs me that she is an Alchemancer, which means that she has the ability to manipulate chemical compounds and turn anything into makeup.
I ask whether she can turn bottled-up pixie dust into dry shampoo, and she informs me that indeed, she can.
Although, she cannot promise that its user wouldn’t suffer unintended side effects.
Amber dries my hair with the flick of her wrist, then braids it down my back with nimble fingers and expert precision, revealing that she is a Windwhisperer.
Sunshine doesn’t use her magic, but based on the golden spool of yarn etched onto her arm, I can only hasten to guess that she stitched the very gown that I’m garbed in.
She must be a Dressweaver. It’s no wonder the queen removed their memories.
These women are far too irreplaceable to have dreams or ambitions that would cause their hearts to wander anywhere outside of these castle walls.
Only someone truly evil would bottle them up.
“Once I find a way to escape from this place, I vow to bring all three of you with me,” I swear to them.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Raven.” Snow’s alarmed voice trickles against my skin like fresh precipitation. “But no one moves freely in or out of this castle without the queen’s consent. Which means that you are now a prisoner here as well.”
The wind funnels out of me so quickly, I briefly wonder whether Amber has wicked all the air out of my lungs. Windwhisperers have been known to steal breaths now and again, although she seems far too sweet to do such a thing…
No, I decide, that stolen breath must be my own doing. “What do you mean, I’m a prisoner here as well?” I ask.
Amber’s smile is pinched in regret. “What she means to say, is that once a person steps foot inside this castle, they belong to the queen. And unfortunately, the only way to truly break free is to—”
Sunshine stuffs the cap back onto the lipstick, then clears her throat.
“You must not speak such treasonous things out loud, Sister. You know the risk.” Her gaze cuts toward mine, and she frowns.
“We must go now, Raven. There is no time to spare. I promise that we will do everything in our power to keep you safe, just like we always have.”
“My name isn’t Raven,” I respond.
In return, she gives me a half-hearted smile, as though she doesn’t quite believe me.