Chapter 7 #2
I sigh as I sink into the hot water and the bubbles pop against my skin.
For a while I sit there and Min busies herself gathering objects from the cabinet into a basket.
My muscles loosen and melt away—it feels like they come clean off the bone like slow-cooked meat.
Even my heart beats at a calm, steady rate.
By the time she comes over, I’m so relaxed, I don’t mind her dipping the sponge in the water and washing my back. Once more, I find myself grateful—this time for her gentleness.
Now my body is quiet, my mind pipes up with one question. Preparing me for what?
“What happens after this?” I ask so softly, it’s barely audible over the quiet slosh of Min’s work.
She pauses. “He hasn’t told you anything, has he?”
“Only some rules and that you’d come at nightfall.”
“Hmph.” She lifts my hair and circles the sponge over my neck. “You’re to be presented to His Majesty’s court. They will be… intrigued to meet you. That’s the courtly way of saying they’ll be very surprised.”
“His whole court?” Despite my best efforts, there’s a squeak of panic in my voice. I’m a fisherman’s daughter. I’ve never been anywhere fancier than a bakery that sells lemon puffs.
She leaves the sponge to float in the water and eases me back against the bath.
Her hands dart into sight, taking a bottle from the basket that’s now sitting on a little stand.
She pours oil into her palm and smooths it between her hands before they disappear from sight again.
“I take it that isn’t familiar for you?” She smooths my hair and combs her fingers through it.
I’m not sure how to answer. He warned me against revealing any weaknesses. My inexperience in this area is one.
With a firm touch, she massages the oil into my scalp and a nutty scent drifts through the sweetness of the bath foam.
“Well,” she says at last when it’s clear I’m not going to answer, “I dare say even familiarity with human courts won’t help you here. It would be useful for you to understand a bit about our ways—just in case they’re different from what you’re used to.”
Pretending I have any idea about human courts when it must be abundantly clear I’m—well, frankly, a pauper—seems ridiculous. The fae are not known for their kindness. Illusion. Deception. Treacherous bargains. Yes, all of those.
This must be some ploy, perhaps to get me to loosen up and spill more information than I should. I don’t doubt anything I tell her will be fed back to His Royal Prickishness.
“Our rules tend not to be written down or spoken aloud,” she explains as she works on combing more oil through my dry hair.
“But we know them as though they were etched into our bones. I’ll try to keep to those that will be most useful to you—otherwise we might be here for nights.
” Her soft laugh ruffles my hair. “I’m afraid you’ve already broken one. No thank-yous and no apologies.”
“Wait, but aren’t they just polite?”
“Perhaps it’s as simple as that for humans. But here, they imply a debt. You thank someone, you owe them. You apologize, you owe them.”
I take a long breath, rubbing my forehead. The sun is different here, but so is the very fabric of society.
“It’ll probably help you to speak only when spoken to. Those in court enjoy having an audience. Let them talk and they’ll love you.”
“That sounds easy enough.”
Another soft laugh. “You’d be surprised.
When someone does address you directly and asks a question, it’s best to answer it with another question or a metaphor.
Direct answers are considered gauche and utterly dull.
If you can, use clever wordplay or reply with a riddle or something veiled.
You’ll seem interesting without revealing too much. ”
I lower my chin, letting her reach the nape of my neck. “Is that so?”
“You’re a quick study, I see. Hmm, what else? Obviously, don’t make any bargains or promises. And beware generosity.”
“His Divine Eminence did mention that one.”
She makes a soft sound and I’m dying to know if she’s fighting a laugh or if my sarcasm is a mortal offense in the Underworld.
I wince and try an awkward laugh that sounds more like a cough. “He also said something about good manners? Is that just to avoid pissing him off or…?”
“It’s a matter of… armor. No matter who you’re facing, if you can maintain a facade of politeness, it will help. My people appreciate good manners, even from their victims.”
“Their. Not our?”
She pauses, silent, still. With a huff, she continues brushing my hair.
“Well, aren’t you observant? My status and temperament mean I can’t play the games of court life, and I don’t indulge in the cruelties some of my kin enjoy.
Even if they try to inflict those cruelties upon you, rudeness will only make matters worse. Trust me on that, Annon.”
I shiver at the fact she says my name—or what I have left of it. It carries power, impressing on me how serious this is. Weakness means death.
She continues working on me, applying oils, thick creams and even a gritty powder that buffs away the roughness on my elbows and hands, until I no longer feel like myself, but some creature that has shed its skin.
And her attentions continue after we leave the bathroom.
I’m dried, moisturized, the dead ends of my hair are snipped off and my body hair removed using a shimmering oil.
Is this what fine ladies back home go through or is this an unseelie thing?
There’s also food—bread and fruit, cheese and meat, together with water and wine, all served on iridescent glass tableware.
Kneeling, Min straightens from applying the last of the hair removal oil to my toes. She glances toward the door before leaning in and murmuring, “You didn’t bring any of the dark metal here, did you?”
I blink at her for a moment before realizing. “You mean iron?”
She rocks back like I’ve hit her, eyes wide.
Shit. What have I done now?
It takes a long moment before she masters herself, throat bobbing. “It is forbidden to bring that stuff into the Underworld. Even the word is taboo.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” I clasp my hands together. Great work, Annon. The first chance you get to speak to anyone other than the king and you’ve already offended her.
And now I’ve apologized. I wince.
“Just avoid speaking of it. I thought I could smell the stuff: that’s the only reason I even raised the subject.”
“My parents had charms around the house to ward off fae. They were made of… the dark metal.”
“That must be it. Well.” She slaps her thighs as she rises, and for a horrifying moment I think she’s about to say that I, sitting here naked, am ready. Do unseelie nobility wear clothes? Thankfully, she goes on, “That’s your body ready—now for what we’re going to put on it.”
Remembering Drystan’s warning about emotions, I barely swallow back a sigh of relief. It’s one thing letting Min see me naked, but the thought of a whole court full of fae? No, thank you.
Oblivious to my suffering, Min carries on as she crosses the room, “I had some outfits brought in so we have plenty to choose from.” With a gesture, she throws open the two matching armoires.
The contents glisten and sparkle, twinkling like distant stars, making a soft breath fall from my lips.
White, silver, steel, charcoal and black—there are outfits in every shade of gray.
There’s color too, though it’s mostly cool tones like the icy world outside.
Pale, whispering blue and a clear, soft aqua like Min’s outfit.
Deep midnight and blackened purple. Blood red that feels dangerous.
I usually wear brown, with off-white shifts underneath.
Once I had a woad blue dress. A gift for my eighteenth birthday.
I wore it all that day and to the pub that night and it came off when I went down to the beach and lost my virginity at midnight.
It grew too big a long time ago, and I gave it away.
That’s the last time I wore color. I make do with my flowers, instead.
Perhaps unsure what my look of shock means, Min pulls garments out one by one and holds them out for me to examine.
Gems nestle among careful pleats and embroidery.
Strings of pearls weave between sheer fabric that’s somehow been manipulated into the pattern of scales or perhaps rippling water. Every piece is exquisite.
These armoires are like treasure troves.
Then Min opens an actual treasure trove. The dressing-table drawers house necklaces, bracelets, rings and even tiaras and circlets, some solid metal, others made of glittering chain and strings of jewels.
All I can do is gape and murmur how incredible each item is as Min lifts her chin in pride and picks out pieces for me to wear. A backless gown of shimmering turquoise, aquamarine earrings and a matching set of chains.
I can’t wear these. But I also can’t summon my voice to say that.
Min hums as she works, helping me step into the gown, closing it with clever hidden fastenings.
She clips half the chains at my shoulders, hanging down my back.
They serve to keep the shoulder straps in place as well as adorning my bare skin.
Then she sets to work on my hair, braiding and coiling the wild waves it’s drying into, clipping sections in place, leaving others to hang loose, all while I silently panic.
I can’t walk into a whole room of fae. I’ve seen the same three people for the past three years. I don’t know how to behave. I don’t know what to say.
But Min continues preparing me, binding more of the chains into my hair and smoothing the loose sections with more jasmine oil. She moisturizes my lips before applying rouge and dusts iridescent powders over my skin.
At last, she steps back and admires her work—admires me.
She lifts her chin again, something preening in the gesture. I suppose the way I look must make her feel better about her own appearance.
I exhale my relief when she pulls out flat shoes, embroidered to match my outfit. I’ve read about aristocratic ladies wearing heeled shoes and the idea fills me with dread. Without a doubt, I would topple over.
But these are soft and comfortable, and once they’re on, Min helps me to my feet and leads me to the full-length mirror I’ve been avoiding since I arrived.
“Ready?”
I almost say no, but she looks so pleased with herself, I don’t have the heart to, so I nod and brace myself for the woman I saw in the mirror yesterday.
But that’s not who stands before me. This woman doesn’t look half dead. Granted, her cheeks are still too hollow and her arms too spindly, but she looks much better.
The gown skims over my frame, disguising how much weight I’ve lost over the years.
My hair isn’t as glossy as it once was, but there’s a sheen to it.
My rouged lips aren’t chapped, and the turquoise silk makes my skin look less of a sickly tone.
The iridescent powder dusted on my cheekbones shifts from turquoise to gold as I move, distracting from the shadows that gather beneath them.
I look like a woman. Not a girl or someone who’s dying.
I only realize I’ve stepped forward when my fingertips brush the mirror’s cool surface.
“Is this magic?” I ask softly, voice close to cracking. Is the mirror just showing me a lie? Is it under the king’s control, and when I walk out into court, they’ll all laugh at me for thinking I look… pretty?
“No.” She catches my hand and lowers it. “No illusions. No tricks. This is real. The only magic here is care… and some of the best cosmetics in the Underworld.” The corner of her mouth twitches, and I can’t help chuckling.
“Thank you, Min.” It isn’t enough, so I squeeze her hand and say it again. Still not enough to convey how it feels to almost look like the woman I used to be.
“You shouldn’t—”
“I know. But I mean it. And I am indebted to you for this.”
Her eyes widen for a moment before she dips her chin. “Come on. Let’s get you to the king.”