Chapter 12
Thousands of questions spin in my mind, and yet the women are so taciturn that I dare ask none as I follow them up the main stairs.
We climb three floors, then they lead me to a large bathing chamber with partitions, where we reach a bathtub half-filled with water. One of the women, the shortest one, with lighter hair, places her hand in it, then throws steaming water from a metal bucket into the tub.
“Undress, my lady,” the other woman says. She’s taller and has black hair like mine.
My lady. My chest untangles. I’m not being sent to prison, not being expelled, not being summoned by Commander Mallor.
I think it’s safe to ask questions. “Why?” The question is stupid, and I try to fix it. “I mean, I realize it’s a bath, and I know what it’s for, but—”
“We were ordered to prepare you for the Prince’s Ball,” the taller woman says.
All the bitter taste in my mouth dissipates at once. Of course I was invited to the ball. Obviously. Why did I doubt it?
“By whom?” I ask, just to make sure it was indeed Alayel—but who else could it be?
“Our superior,” the shorter woman says. “We do not know who ordered her, unfortunately.”
“Are you aware that I don’t have a dress?” I’d rather risk sounding foolish by stating the obvious than going through this bath only to realize I can’t come to the ball after all.
“You do have a dress,” the taller woman says. “But we might need to adjust it. That’s why we need to hurry.”
I haven’t been undressed in front of any woman since I was a child and my mother helped me bathe.
At first, I feel ashamed, wondering if I should ask for some privacy, but then I relent, take off that ugly gray uniform, hide the chain with the key near it, and enter the bath.
The water is surprisingly warm, but not too hot, and smells like jasmine.
In truth, other than when I was small and took “baths” in basins, I never had a bath like this.
I’d go to the ocean from time to time to feel water all over my body. Nothing compares with the feel of the strong waves crashing against my skin, but this is nice too. Warm. Relaxing.
The women put a scented concoction on my hair, and I feel more at ease to talk to them.
The shorter one is called Julia, the taller Mariana, and they’ve been servants in the castle for some time.
I learn that servants live in a different area, downstairs too, but not in the academy, and that the cleaning crew isn’t really considered part of the servants’ wing, but a part of the academy, used for correction.
They use warm water from a bucket to rinse my hair, then apply a cream so rich and fragrant that I close my eyes, enveloped by the wonderful scents of flowers and citrus and seaweed that shouldn’t go well together, but do.
Finally, they give me face and body creams, some undergarments, then walk out to give me privacy.
I get out of the bath slowly and wrap myself in the softest towel I’ve ever touched.
Once my body is dry, I put on the clothes they gave me: soft underpants, a new brassiere, and a linen robe.
I hide the master key in the brassiere so as not to draw attention.
When I step outside the partition, they lead me to another part of the room with a dressing table.
“How would you like your hair?” Julia asks.
“Down, with a headband.”
Mariana leaves, while Julia brushes my hair slowly, applying small drops of a special oil. When she’s done, my hair looks like black silk, so brilliant that it’s almost silver.
“This is beautiful.” I turn and smile at Julia. “My hair never looked like this before.”
She nods. “We’ll ask our supervisor if we can bring you some of this oil. You’ll need to apply just a drop each time.”
“That would be very kind,” I say.
A few moments later, Mariana walks in, carrying a bundle and what must be a dress on a hanger, covered with a black fabric. “We might have to adjust it,” she says. “Usually we do it in advance, but we got it at the last minute.”
I wonder why at the last minute, but then I remember that the ball was only announced yesterday, and it makes sense. Nobles probably have a bunch of outfits set aside and ready for special occasions.
Alayel probably received a collection of suits when he was recognized as a prince.
I glance at the dress Mariana’s holding, wondering if it’s worth it to owe a favor to the bastard prince.
Then I recall the way he acted last night; calm, friendly, not at all lewd or pushy.
Maybe he’s right that I helped him earn his title and deserve whatever dress they’re about to lend me.
When Mariana removes the black cover, my breath halts. I didn’t even know that a dress could be so enchanting. It’s like looking at the bay as it reflects the moonlight. It’s dark blue, with a bodice covered in dark rhinestones. The fabric of the skirt is so light that it looks like it’s floating.
“Oh.” That’s all I can manage in my stupefaction.
Mariana’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Next time, you might want to come to the dressmaker a few days beforehand. Pick a fabric, choose your color.”
Did she misunderstand my reaction? “No,” I say quickly. “I love it. I love it so much that I don’t have words. Were you the one who chose it?”
She nods. “Based on the description of your physique, yes. I thought it would fit.”
“It’s… magnificent.” I chuckle. “There. A word came to me. Who made this work of art?”
“Kasilia Atelier. High Dracolius City.”
I make a mental note of the name, then say, “Let’s put it on.”
It’s more work than I imagined, as they have to tie the dress in the back, and then Julia makes some stitches in parts that are slightly loose. The whole thing is heavy, but the weight comforts me like a fluffy blanket on a cool day.
In the end, they give me dark blue shoes with flat soles in such soft leather that it feels like fabric.
“I could sleep in these.” I laugh again.
When I think it’s over, Julia picks up a case, applies a cream to my face, then uses some brushes with colored powder. I’m afraid I’ll look ridiculous, but when I open my eyes and stare in the mirror, the result looks natural, as if I was slightly flushed.
It’s been so long since someone took care of me or did my hair. It’s odd to think I miss it, and yet it feels so good to have someone looking after me. Even if it’s their job, they’re clearly committed to doing it well.
“Thank you,” I say. “You are both so talented! Thank you.”
They dip their heads, but I sense no false modesty. These are women who know their work is good, know their value, and there’s something beautiful about that.
Beautiful like my own strange image in the mirror. Wearing this dress, I don’t feel like a cook, don’t feel like part of the cleaning crew, don’t even feel like a recruit. What I see is a princess—or at least someone worthy… of a prince.
I swallow, my heart agitated in my chest. Is that what Alayel meant to tell me? Or am I making up a story, creating meaning from where there’s none? He probably didn’t even see the dress. But he still got me a dress—and an incredible one, in fact.
My reflection stares at me, reproach in her eyes.
Had I entered the academy like I should have, I’d have a dress.
Simpler, yes, but I wouldn’t need to owe anyone a favor.
Giving me a dress is the least Alayel can do, and I shouldn’t feel indebted to him because of it.
Still, I can admire my image in the mirror.
“Are you ready?” Julia asks.
“I… suppose? You’re the experts. But isn’t it early?”
The two look at each other, and Julia says, “The king likes to hold large events at around the time of the storm.”
When no dragons can attack us. Makes sense.
“Doesn’t he know when Auranius sleeps?” I ask.
“I assume not.”
A polite answer for a stupid question.
If anyone knew when our guardian dragon slept, we’d have no need of panicked bells when the invaders came. If anything, it’s as if the riders know it even before we do. I’d love to understand why it happens, and I hope some of my classes will shed light on it.
“The reception will be at the mosaic hall,” Mariana says. “We’ll accompany you there, where you’ll join your friends.”
We walk to the main atrium, where they ring a bell to call the elevator. We go up until we’re on the floor of the ballroom with the gigantic windows that I cleaned with Celine.
Recruits, instructors, and members of the Sky Guard are approaching the entrance, and I wish I had gone to Celine’s dormitory so we could come together.
It feels odd to be alone here, and the impressive dress makes me feel even more self-conscious, since it draws so many eyes.
Still, I pretend to be calm and confident and cross the ballroom doors to be greeted by a colorful spectacle as sunlight streams through the window panes.
The room looks different, with chairs and some tables, a small orchestra in a corner, and tables covered with all kinds of appetizers. A throne sits on an elevated dais, in an area surrounded by wooden partitions and guards.
Thunder rumbles in the sky far away, when I see a dash of purple cutting through the room—Celine.
Her dress drapes her petite form well, and her blond locks contrast with the color of the fabric.
Nelly’s beside her, wearing a pretty pink dress, her hair arranged in delicate brown curls.
I’m surprised that they’re together, as I assumed they’d be hanging around people in their own years.
“Mayara, you found a dress!” Celine spreads out her arms as if to call the attention of the entire ballroom.
I wish I could hide, but I’m happy for her enthusiasm. “I did.” I remember her effort trying to get me a dress, so I explain, in a low voice, “But it was just now. When you took me to the supply room, I didn’t know.”
“Oh, it was obvious you had no clue about anything. Let me guess. Your friend wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m not sure.” And it’s true, even if the smile coming to my face tells a different story.