25. Lina
Lina
H elena makes me leave my clothes she calls rags behind and follow her with my towel alone. I eye my clothes carefully. I don’t want to leave them; what if I need them when I escape? Nor do I want to go waltzing through the halls of this place nearly naked.
“It’s only right down the hall. One minute at most.”
But then again, they are actually rags, and putting them back on would be a challenge. So, I decide to take the risk. There’s a pit in my stomach as I walk away from those abandoned clothes, wrapped only in a towel.
The room Helena brings me to is very near to the cascade, as promised. We walk down one hall for less than thirty seconds and then into a room.
Aside from the cascade, which is different for obvious reasons, every room I’ve spent time in has felt like a cave with a few comforts and decoration to hide its true form.
This room is bright and open. The floor is carpeted, and the walls are so covered in drapery you can see little of the stone beneath.
It is bright and open—is that sunlight coming from the next room?
A breeze caresses the exposed skin of my neck and arms, and I breathe in deeply. Fresh air. How?
I peer around the corner, hoping to see through the partially open curtains.
“You’ll see, Drahkita, when you meet the dressmaker. But first, let us get you enough strength to make it through the next hour.”
I don’t know what she means until she comes back with a brass pitcher and a plate of meats and cheeses.
She places both down on a table in the corner of the room.
“Eat as much as you’d like. They always suggest the outsiders eat slowly for the first few days, but I never have the heart to enforce it when they come in looking like a starved animal. ”
I am too distracted by the food to mind her kindness wrapped in insult. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am a starved animal, because I shove as much of the meat into my mouth as I can. I close my eyes, feeling the energy pool into my bones before it even reaches my stomach.
The effect that just access to food alone has on my mind is powerful.
“You should at least try to taste it, though, Drahkita.” She chuckles. “It is spiced meat and pepper relish cheese. You will enjoy if you take your time.” She also pours me a goblet of yellow liquid.
“What is that?”
“Lemon water. It is both refreshing and delicious. Try it.”
I haven’t had lemons since I was a child. Where do they even get such things? They can’t possibly grow crops below ground. But then, I remember the greenery of the forest outside the cave. They must have the ability to farm somewhere nearby.
I try a sip of the juice and wince at the sour taste. I blink, though, when I find it surprisingly sweet as well.
She chuckles at my expression.
“This is why I love this role, Drahkita. To see someone who has suffered as you have, who has barely survived on little food, experience this for the first time is truly magical.”
I believe in the sincerity of this girl. She wishes to help me and thinks I am gaining a blessing by being here.
I do appreciate the momentary respite from the fear. The experience of new, delicious tastes on my tongue and the comfort of warmth and a friendly face.
But even so, if the doors were to open and allow me to run from this place, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would flee into dangerous woods and never look back—clothes or not.
I know well and good that any doors here are sealed shut. They will not open freely for me, and so, I will wait for the right time to force my way out. I will carve my way through, one inch at a time, if I must.
A tiny bell tingles, and Helena grins. “It is your time! Come, come.”
I follow her past the curtain and into the room of sunshine and fresh air.
Though we are still in a stone room, there is a circular opening where I can see the valley filled with trees. We are not as deep underground as I’d thought. In fact, we are above at least some portions of the forest.
I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and let the feeling fill my soul.
“They’ve brought me a drowned rat, I see,” a voice purrs harshly. “These boys get more and more desperate.”
My eyes fly open to find a woman with dark skin and a red gown with strips of fabric flowing from her arms.
She looks me over, head to toe, circling me like a bird of prey.
“I suppose I see the potential.” She grips my still dripping curls between two fingers. “It is a lovely color.”
I pin my lips closed and stare straight ahead out the opening where the valley lays.
The woman snaps and orders Helena to grab an oil from the next room.
Maybe this is where I could escape from? If I could get back here?—
“It is a thirty-foot drop with jagged stones beneath. Don’t get any wise ideas.”
My brow pinches. How did she know what I was thinking?
“You wouldn’t be the first to try, and believe me, if it were possible, they would seal it shut faster than you could blink. If you want to end your life, though, it’s an option. I’d suggest drowning in a cascade pool. Much gentler way to go.”
I swallow at her brazen honesty. It’s unnerving but also refreshing.
Helena rushes back into the room with a bottle of oil in hand. Are they going to grease me up before roasting me over the fire?
“Spread a generous amount through her hair. Comb it gently with your fingers to detangle. It may take a while.”
Helena immediately obeys. She retrieves a stool and begins her work on my tangled curls. At the same time, the seamstress reappears with a pile of clothing in her arms. She hangs them on a metal bar. She flips through the garments, considering each one. Finally, she removes a blue dress and grins.
Helena temporarily pauses her work wrestling with my hair and helps to slip the embroidered dress over my body. It is the shade of the sky just before sunrise alters the colors. A dark blue, almost purple.
It’s the most beautiful garment I’ve ever worn, by far. The stitching is gold, with little flowers adorning the chest line.
“What do you think?” she asks me, titling her head curiously.
“It’s beautiful.” I stare down at the thick material. It’s stiff and heavier than I am used to. “It will be difficult to move around in.”
“Yes. Not a practical solution. Perhaps for special events. We have others. Let’s see.” She shifts through fabrics on the bar. “How about this style?”
There is a shear light blue skirt that remains open in the front and a golden belt. The top is much like the first, with long sleeves. She also grabs a pair of thin pants. I don’t know how to respond. The skirt is pretty, but how will it?—
“Try it on. Best to see it on the body before you judge.”
Helena helps to force the top over my head but allows me to pull the pants on by myself.
They are thin and cling to my legs like skin.
They would be useful in the desert—no place for the sands to pool.
Then, she clasps the sheer skirt and belt around my waist. There is a small gap between the skirt belt and the hem of the blouse, leaving just a sliver of skin exposed.
“Ahhh, yes,” Helena croons. “Now, you look like a Drahkita.”
“Yes,” the dressmaker says, without waiting for my opinion. “Still lovely, but versatile. And—” She grabs another garment. “The same style of pants, but with fur for the cold season.”
I’m overwhelmed by the options. For the last year, I’ve worn the same rags day in and day out.
When I was a child, I had multiple dresses to choose from.
One for church, one for special events, and three cotton frocks for every day.
But even then, it was much more basic options and certainly less than the dozen or so she presents to me now.
My heart feels oddly conflicted.
Is this place actually what people made it out to be? It is beautiful, and they have many smiling people with luxuries I’d never dared to dream of.
But then, I remember the blood-soaked warrior. And the skull masked men and women splitting the throat of those who begged for their aid, gulping down the blood like wine.
No matter how lovely the individual elements of this place are, I must remember the sacrifices that pay for it.
I must remember who may pay for it still.
I assume the seamstress notices the change in spirit on my face because she rehangs the other garments and fusses with the one I am wearing now.
“It is warm enough and allows a nice amount of movement. It will do for today. I will ensure the others are brought to your nest, and several more will be created for you.”
“Her hair is still so tangled…” Helena says over my shoulder.
“Yes, well, some things take time. Take the oil and continue the work daily until it’s cared for properly.
The curls will be absolutely stunning with enough attention.
” The woman’s smile is sincere as she runs her fingers down my cheek and to my chin.
“You are running late.” The woman’s eyebrows rise, and Helena gasps.
“Late for what?” I swallow.
“The most important moment of the day! You are not fully a Drahkita until you finish your culling. Now, you must face the priestesses so they can read your fate.”