Chapter 5
Chapter five
Nin did not belong in this room.
She knew it the moment her cheap, leather boots made contact with the polished floor, laid in a woven pattern. The scent of roses permeated the air, immediately entrancing her to the spot. She had never smelled anything so lovely before.
Gold trimmed the cream, paneled walls adorned with a delicate floral motif.
Scenic paintings of gardens and rolling hills hung on golden hooks, interspersed by gilt mirrors framed with delicate, swirling designs.
Nin slowly turned, her head craning to take in the sheer splendor—the sparkle of every corner.
How did they make such things shine? Was it magic?
A luxurious cream rug covered the floor, and Nin hovered by the edge, certain that whatever grime lingered on her boots would ruin it if she dared to step on it.
In the corner sat a white marble dressing table with brushes, fresh flowers in porcelain vases, and jewelry boxes. On the far end, against the wall, lay an enormous bed with silken ivory sheets and dozens of fluffy pillows. Nin had never owned a pillow plusher than two fingers.
A floral damask canopy draped elegantly from the ceiling, tied by golden tassels. Glimmering crystals hung from a round bronze-gilt chandelier above her head. Nin imagined that one of those crystals alone could feed her and her brother for months.
“Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” Nin asked, whipping around.
Cedric had his arms crossed, with a dark brow raised above his spectacles. “I said, we’re going to start with your appearance. We can’t have you dirtying the sheets.”
Nin blinked slowly, unable to process the insult until he approached a panel on the wall and knocked three times.
In moments, a woman in her late forties pushed the panel open and bustled in.
Her attire consisted of a blue dress, a white lace-trimmed apron, and black bows on the sleeves that reached her elbows.
A lacy white cap sat on top of the pile of silver-streaked brunette hair.
There was a sternness in the lines around the woman’s mouth, but Nin sensed more beneath her prim demeanor.
“This is Lucille,” Cedric said. “She is the head chambermaid—and one of the very few privy to this plan. She will help me teach you everything you need to know to become Princess Marianne.”
Nin fluffed her coat out into a curtsy—or at least what she thought was a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucille.”
Lucille eyed her with an unimpressed frown, and Cedric rubbed his eyes beneath his spectacles. “First rule,” he said, stepping in her direction and gesturing for her to stand. “You must never curtsy to anyone below your station.”
“But she’s not below my station,” Nin protested. “I’m below hers. I’m a pauper.”
“Not anymore,” he said sternly. “You are now Princess Marianne Eloise de Montclair, and you are going to act like her from this moment forward.”
Nin swallowed. She already knew pretending to be the princess would be difficult, but the pressure crushed over her shoulders.
Lucille, however, curtsied to her and said, “It is a pleasure, mademoiselle.”
Cedric turned to Lucille. “I shall leave her in your hands for the rest of the evening.” Without another word, he stepped behind the concealed door and shut it behind him.
So much for saying goodbye. Nin huffed a silent snort through her nose.
Lucille waved for her to follow and opened a door on the opposite end of the room that led to a dark washroom. She lit a few of the candles and guided Nin toward the large white tub, its golden feet carved with delicate, scrolling leaves.
“Would you like me to help you undress?” Lucille asked.
Nin froze. “You want me to take off… my clothes?”
“Yes—unless you wish to bathe in them.”
Nin crossed her arms. “You’re quite blunt for a servant. I thought you were supposed to treat me like a princess?”
“I am. The princess bathes,” Lucille said evenly. “And in this case, we’re fixing you up. So be a dear and follow orders.”
Despite the woman’s curtness, Nin couldn’t help but grin.
She liked the dry humor laced within Lucille’s instructions.
Still, she had never undressed before anyone, and it had been far too long since she had taken a proper bath.
Instead, she and her brother would often use a rag and boiled water to quickly wipe the areas that needed it most. The other parts of her body were often neglected because they rationed water for cooking, drinking, and other necessities.
Embarrassment prickled her skin at the thought of exposing herself.
Lucille must have sensed her hesitation, because her dark eyes softened. “It’s all right. We are women here. I will not judge. I am here to help you.”
The gentleness in her tone unraveled some of the unease festering in her stomach.
Finally, Nin removed one layer of clothing, then another, until she slipped into the water.
The heat wrapped her in an unexpected embrace.
She forgot baths were meant to be warm, and for a blissful moment, her stiff shoulders sank in reprieve.
In the candlelight, the clear surface shifted into a murky color faster than she expected.
Blood rose to her cheeks. How much dirt and grime was on her?
She didn’t want to know, let alone think about it, but Lucille made no mention of her filth, nor gave any indication that it bothered her.
The chambermaid simply reached in and pulled on a golden chain at the head of the tub. Dirty water swirled down a drain, and Nin wished she could also plunge herself into its depths. Her hands flew to her face, avoiding the maid's eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” Lucille said, grabbing a bucket and disappearing out the door.
Nin groaned under her breath. It would likely take more than an hour just to fill this tub with one person, especially to heat the water. Why had Lucille left her exposed and shivering?
As the minutes ticked on, she found herself staring at the drain, wondering how such a mechanism worked and where the water led.
But her thoughts were interrupted when Lucille opened the door.
Nin’s arms flew over her chest, her brows furrowing at how fast the woman had returned.
The water couldn't possibly heat this fast. Had they expected her to need another refill of the tub?
“Mind your feet,” Lucille said. Another wave of humiliation washed over as the chambermaid poured the water at the end of the tub.
Nin yelped as cold water splashed against her ankles, and the unexpected iciness prickled through her bones.
“Ah—!”
Then, her protest was swallowed into a stunned gape as the water warmed and flowed around her, rising to heights not capable of being filled by a single bucket. Her head swung to both sides of the tub, unable to understand how it was already past her chest.
Her rounded eyes met Lucille’s amused smirk. “How is this possible?”
“The tub has been crafted to fill to the appropriate height and keep the water at the perfect temperature. So do not worry about it going cold,” Lucille said lightly—too nonchalant for the miracle unfolding before her.
Lucille caught her bewildered expression and continued, “It was commissioned by an Artisan.”
So, this was one of the magic-imbued luxuries hidden within the palace? Nin had heard of Artisans who crafted items with the Maker’s Breath, enchanting them with special abilities. Only the affluent could afford such luxuries.
What other enchantments would she discover here?
“Give me your hand,” Lucille ordered, wielding a sudsy sponge.
Reluctantly, Nin obeyed. “Do you have to scrub every single inch of me?”
“Yes,” Lucille said. “Every single inch.”
Nin grumbled under her breath, though the water’s heat continued to sink into her skin and silence her complaints.
Lucille washed her with methodical, gentle hands, taking her time with each finger and limb.
It unsettled Nin how much her body relaxed into the water, how her breaths slowed, and her eyes closed.
She didn’t know what to do with this kind of comfort—one that could disarm her so completely.
When Lucille turned to her hair, Nin winced. “Ow!”
“Well, if your hair weren’t a bird’s nest,” Lucille said mildly, “this would be simpler.”
Despite her words, Lucille gingerly worked through every matted snarl, careful to undo each without tugging on her scalp.
When every part of her had been washed, scrubbed, and oiled, Nin emerged dripping wet.
A plush towel—one of the softest things her skin had touched—was cocooned around her, and Lucille quickly dried her hair before dressing her in a silky robe.
“Let’s get you dressed for bed,” Lucille told her as she strode out of the washroom.
Nin followed, the floors cool and smooth beneath her feet.
When she came to the edge of the rug, she hesitated, still unsure if she was clean enough to step on the pretty pattern, but she finally allowed one toe to prod the material.
The rug didn’t crumble at her touch, so her foot followed, then the other.
She sighed blissfully, wiggling her toes against the soft fibers cushioning every curve of her foot.
Her blisters and callouses nearly wept in relief.
Lucille pulled out a thin, white chemise from behind another door and spread it over the bed.
Nin stared at the white, crisp material.
It didn’t have the dingy, gray tinge of a piece of clothing that had been washed one too many times by the cheapest soap.
Delicate bows sat on the sleeves, and hand-stitched embroidery depicting tiny roses rested against the collar.
Nin reached for the pearly material before thinking better of it.
“It won’t bite, I promise,” Lucille said.
“No, it’s just that…” Nin paused, unsure how to word the rest of the thought that became lost in a tangle of emotions.
Nin hesitated to even stand near the pristine cotton. Wearing it would be presumptuous, as if the fabric would know she didn’t belong in it.
But voicing any of her thoughts aloud would sound absurd.
“It’s too pretty,” Nin gave a limp response.
“Oh, you should see the rest,” Lucille said, reaching for the handle.
The door swung open, revealing a space larger than any room she had ever shared with her brother.
Nin gaped. Racks of gowns rolled across the room like an ocean of silk, and tulle in every color shimmered in the low light.
Beads and jewels sparkled among them, and rows of delicate shoes lined the walls.
Hats, fans, jewelry, and petticoats, a wealth of fabric she could barely comprehend. Nin took a cautious step forward, her head tilting to absorb it all.
Lucille chuckled behind her. “Welcome to the life of the princess.”