18. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VERONICA
There is a large oak tree just outside the palace walls, one that can be seen from the outer edge of the garden.
It is at the furthest peak of the village where I lived for the majority of my life.
Uncle Thomas built me a swing on the sturdiest branch.
To this day, I can feel the rough wood catch against the hem of my dress.
No amount of tears in the fabric mattered; it was easily my favorite place to be.
Apart from the garden within the palace walls, of course.
Every day I would sit on the swing, clutching a few pieces of paper my mother brought home and a pencil sharpened with an old butter knife.
I’d imagine a dragon inside of those walls, keeping the knight from rescuing me in the village.
When I drew those stick figures terribly, I’d draw the knight without a helmet, because I wanted him to feel wind through his hair.
My mother would come get me from the peak every day, right before the sun went down. She always said the knight in my drawings would one day slay that dragon and for waiting, I’d be rewarded with the knight's affection.
How funny it is, she was right in all the wrong ways.
Mary is the dragon, Sebastian is the knight, and now I’m fucked. Affectionately, irrevocably, humiliatingly fucked.
I don’t remember the last time I was able to actually enjoy a warm bath. Georgina warned me to let the water cool before getting in after having my whole body stripped bare. Yes, bare. Never had I imagined it possible to get that much hair off a human body, let alone live to tell the tale.
Yet again, I didn’t listen, and practically leaped into the bath prepared for me. The pink of my freshly waxed skin turned a bright crimson.
Now as I sit in the cooling water, I don’t regret burning the naked skin. As messed up as it sounds, it’s helping me come to terms with what awaits me in less than an hour.
Sex. Sex.
I, Veronica Beverly, am going to have sex with Sebastian Baros.
My body sinks further beneath the soapy water, my nose barely skimming the surface as hold back from screaming into the suds.
What is actually wrong with me? There must be something, because a year ago — no, not even, a few months ago, I would be giggling over it.
Kicking my stupid feet on that old swing.
I would have been over the moon with excitement.
Not now, nope. Victoria Pierce is wishing to drown in the damn bathtub.
“Miss Pierce, it is time to get out.”
A soft voice flutters around the open layout of the unfamiliar bathroom.
I blink my lashes open, miniature bubble clusters clinging to the tips.
Coming in from the doorway stands a petite woman with the prettiest red hair I have ever seen.
Her cheeks are dotted with freckles that pop against the warm smile she wears as she carries a fluffy towel to the tub side, her posture respectful and kind.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting Georgina,” I say slowly.
The woman nods. “She had to take care of some things before tonight's ceremony.”
Right, that’s what they call this.
I nod, clearing my throat as I lean forward. My fingers brush along the bottom of the tub to find the chain. A warm hand circles around my arm, and I look up to find those mossy green eyes directly before me.
“Don’t worry about that. I will handle it,” the woman says.
“I can do it,” I press, moving to grab the chain, but I’m pulled back.
“Miss Pierce, I understand that you can do it, but I am now your handmaid. Everything I can do to help the future of Hawthorn is my job.”
I stare, and while I hope my jaw isn’t slacked, I know it is, based on the warm air that dries my tongue. A handmaid. I have acquired a handmaid.
My shoulders slump in defeat. “What’s your name?” I ask warily.
If she suspects something unusual, she doesn’t show it. If anything, she’s cheerful and ready to help.
A stray lock of red drifts beside her round face, highlighting the hues of pinks in her cheeks. She’s young, that’s for sure. Like me, maybe a few years younger. Possibly, freshly eighteen, two years younger than I am.
“Miss Lone,” she says cheerfully, her lips pulling high on her freckled cheeks.
“No, your first name.” Her smile fades. Is she uncomfortable?
My now perfectly shaped eyebrow quirks up in question as I dip my hand back into the water, growing cooler by the second. Red, I decide I’m calling her, must know what I’m trying to accomplish because her shoulders slump and her lips pull into a deep frown.
“I’m not suppos—”
“I know,” I cut her off, giving her a pointed look as I reach for the chain.
“Missy.” Her cheeks flush, as if it physically hurt to say her name, just because she didn’t want to break a rule.
“Missy. It fits.” I smile, foregoing my mission for the chain.
Water ripples around my calves as I stand, my hand taking the towel from her to try to cover up whatever is left of my dignity after being stripped like a naked cat.
Missy doesn’t look; she pulls at the chain and the water starts to drain from the massive porcelain tub.
“How long have you been here? I haven’t seen you at all,” I ask lightly, patting myself the best I can with the fluffy cotton. Even outside the water, my skin is red and swollen, almost raw.
“Oh,” she blinks, “about an hour.”
The towel drops abruptly, my eyes wide as I gawk at the red-haired girl. Her eyes drift this time, the flush on her cheeks now matching the color of her hair. I bend down to grip the towel, wrapping it hastily around myself, holding the ends for dear life.
“I– s-sorry, miss!” she squeaks, twirling around as if she were a ballerina.
I kind of adore her.
Missy is so genuine and kind, even sincere.
I wonder if she’s from the town, considering she uses proper English.
Most of us in the village cut corners. Though it makes me wonder why she would even work as a handmaid?
Everyone living in the town is well off, unlike the village, where we argue over who gets what half of a muffin.
“Victoria. When we are alone, you can call me Victoria,” I insist, pressing my hand to her shoulder with a smile.
She relaxes, nodding slowly. Yet I’m unsure whether or not she’s going to listen to my request. I can’t blame her. Addie would have a fit if she overheard Missy call me by my first name.
‘The audacity!’ she would say.
“Miss Lone, do you have Miss Pierce ready yet?” Speak of the she-devil.
I groan, shifting my gaze to Missy as she bites down on her lower lip. So she’s terrified of Addie, too. Noted.
“I’m screwed.”
“You will be.”
My eyes widen, and I know Missy can see the shock on my face because the corner of her lip twitches up.
I knew I liked her.
Walking to the designated room for this ceremony feels a lot like walking to my execution.
Yes, a designated room. Apparently due to Mary having an absolute fit over it originally being in Sebastian’s chambers. This is anything but normal.
My stomach fills with dread, my mind whirls with irrational thoughts, and my stupid heart flutters with excitement.
The long off-white dress I am used to wearing is replaced with a simple silk robe.
It’s the same Sebastian wears every time I’ve been there to watch.
Now I am in that same robe, just smaller to fit my petite frame.
The belt around my middle is tied tight, having been wrapped and re-wrapped fifty times in my fit of nerves.
I try not to think about having literally nothing underneath the robe.
At this point, the belt is my only defense.
“Miss Pierce,” Georgina greets, her voice is soothing. She looks at me as if she can see through it all, and it’s terrifying.
So terrifying, in fact, I have to rip my attention away.
I’m already on a roll with bad ideas. I don’t need to find excuses to make more.
Georgina takes my hand in hers, ushering me into the room with an ease close to a doe teaching their newborn fawn to walk.
She can feel my nerves, her thumb rubbing against the top of my hand reassuringly.
No one can truly feel bad for me when I agreed to this myself.
I didn’t even stutter; I jumped in headfirst like I always do.
This time it’s going to bite me in the ass, I just know it.
Still, I hold myself together with each step into the room set up for this evening.
Nothing, as far as I can tell, has changed, but the location.
A king-sized bed on the far wall, royal blue curtains draped closed over the large bay windows, towels resting on top of the mahogany dresser, as well as a bowl of what I know to be hot water and a washcloth.
The only difference is me.
I am the one those towels are for. I am going to be the one on that bed. I am going to be the one Sebastian fills.
I am going to be sick.