Chapter Sixteen #3
There was a knock on the door. He opened it and a woman walked in.
She wore a long simple dress of dark blue fabric and had a silver chatelaine at her waist. Her skin was light brown, and her dark, wavy hair was pieced with silver and fell to her shoulders.
Her eyes were hazel, and there was experience in them that said she was rarely surprised by much anymore.
“Fox, this is Talia, my chief steward. Talia, Fox.”
“A pleasure,” she said with a smile. “His Highness has made arrangements.”
“Arrangements? For what?” I looked at them both suspiciously.
A corner of her mouth curved. “For a moment to yourself.”
I didn’t have time to ask what she meant before the prince—the prince—scooped me up and into his arms.
“What in Oblivion are you doing?” But figuring a drop to the stone floor would be unpleasant, I put my arms around his neck. Only because of the risk.
“You’re still weak, and it seems unchivalrous to require Talia to carry you.”
“But your arm—”
“Will be fine. Sanj is a very good physician. He was glad you doused it with wine. Not glad you stole the rest of the jar.”
“It wasn’t theft. You watched me take it.”
“That’s an interesting line to draw,” he murmured, and stepped from the room into a wide hallway with an arched ceiling, shadows speared through by rays of sunlight from glass windows taller than I was.
The walls and floor were gleaming stone that seemed to glitter in the light, and golden torches cast their reflection beautifully upon them.
“Welcome to the Western Palace, Little Fox.”
We stepped into an octagonal space with more glossy stone, each soaring wall bearing floor-to-ceiling murals of pitched battles between armored warriors. Banners with “Etoris Eni Vistes,” the Lys’Careths’ motto, in letters taller than me were painted across each mural.
“Glorifying war?” I wondered.
“Glorifying Carethia and her triumphs.”
I wasn’t sure that was much different.
We passed through the octagon, then reached a doorway at the end of a dark corridor. He put me down in front as Talia opened the door, and a billowing cloud of steam that smelled of expensive oils and mountain forest rolled out.
I curled my lip. “Is this the laundry?”
Talia snickered.
“In a manner of speaking,” the prince said. I followed him into a large room with slatted wooden floors and linen partitions that hung from the ceiling and moved in the steamy air.
“As you can see,” Talia said, “all has been prepared.”
“I appreciate your quick work.” He glanced at me. “When you’re done, she’ll take you back to your room.”
My room. A room for a thief in this luxurious and labyrinthine palace.
Then he pulled a silver square from his pocket and extended it to me.
It was cold and shiny and would have garnered me many coins in the market—at least before the dealer decided I’d stolen it and called the garrison.
Its corners were rounded, and in the center of the square was an indentation.
A seal had been pressed into it, and I ran my thumb over the soft ridges.
It was the tiger on the prince’s banner, twined with the bloom of a mountain lily.
“That’s my seal,” he said, “and a token of the Western Palace. The staff is aware you’re here, and you can move about the palace as you wish. But in case there’s trouble, that”—he tapped a finger on the metal—“will prove that you are a guest.”
Not just a chamber of my own, but (mostly) free run of the palace. Fate’s tapestry was warped today.
“I’ll leave you,” the prince said. He turned, then paused. “It’s good to see you again, Fox.”
Before I could respond—or ask him not to leave me alone with strangers—the door was closed.
I turned back to Talia, whose smile was bright and probably well practiced.
“Why am I here?”
“For this.” She pulled back one of the linen curtains, revealing a large square pool sunken into the floor. The steaming water was faintly opaque and dotted with pink flower petals, and the light of a hundred candles reflected in the water and cast bobbing glints of light around the room.
“Fuck the moons” was all I managed to whisper, gooseflesh pebbling my skin at the possibility of sinking into that water.
A space this large had to be a communal bath. There was one in the stronghold used mostly by older men who wanted to roam around naked and free. But who bathed with others in a damned palace?
“Who else is here?” I asked.
“Here?” Talia looked around, then at me. “I’m not sure what you mean. Only me and the servants.”
“Am I supposed to help them with the water?” The prince said he wasn’t going to put me to work, but he was Lys’Careth.
“Help? Gods no, girl.” There was a smile in her voice. “You’re a guest of the prince.” She pointed to the water. “You’re supposed to get in. This is your bath.”
I snorted my disbelief, but her expression didn’t change. “Are you serious? This”—I gestured at it—“is all just for me?”
“Yes. Who else would it be for?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I woke up in the palace, and it’s only gotten stranger since then.”
Another servant, this one with pink cheeks and a pert nose, came in and offered a long strip of linen. “Clothes, please. And I’ll wrap you in this.”
I had a moment to consider whether I’d ruin myself by accepting this monumental gift, and decided I could do with some ruining.
“This is Orda,” Talia said. “Please do as she asks.”
“All right,” I said, and deciding modesty would take too long, I stripped off my tunic, trousers, and undergarments.
“Oh, what happened?” she asked, her gaze on the scratches across my chest.
I crossed my arms. “Nasty fight.”
Orda looked up at me. “Did you win?”
“For now.”
“Good.”
“Don’t tell the prince. He’ll just worry, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“It’s none of his concern,” Orda said with a nod, then wrapped the linen strip around me like a thin blanket, just wide enough to cover the important parts. Talia picked up my clothes.
“What are you doing with those?” I asked.
“I’d like to burn them,” Talia said dryly, “but as I imagine you’d object, we’ll clean and mend them. You can wear those in the meantime.” She gestured to a stack of folded fabrics at the side of the bath.
“The water is spring fed, so it stays hot. We’ve put in some soothing oils so it shouldn’t irritate your injuries, but if you need something else, let us know. And don’t come out until you’re clean.”
They disappeared behind the linen, leaving me at the edge of the pool. I didn’t think this was a trap—the prince had carried me here, after all—but I still waited for a moment to ensure the Lady hadn’t changed her mind, and wasn’t preparing to wrench me from the water to prove her authority.
Wooden steps led into the water from the edge.
I blew out a breath and dipped a toe into it, scattering pink petals.
It wasn’t just warm, but hot. Deliciously hot.
I eased my foot in to the ankle, then went to my knees.
I hadn’t combusted, so I took the chance, removed my wrapping, and sank into the water to my chest. It stung a bit on the chafed skin above my breasts, but the pain dissolved quickly enough.
I hadn’t meant to moan, but the sound escaped me like a sigh. This was no chilly bucket or frigid river, and it didn’t smell of rotting vegetation or frogs.
I sat on the steps until the tension dissolved and I felt boneless. A small tray was nearby, bearing a set of pale green cubes. I sniffed. It smelled like the prince. Woodsy and bright.
I rubbed one against my arm. Sniffed again. And then I dunked my head into the bath and scrubbed everything I could reach.
I was wrinkled and relaxed when I emerged from the water.
I brushed tangles from my hair with a pretty wooden comb and pulled on the tunic and trousers left for me.
The fabric was slick and soft and felt invisible against my skin.
It almost made me miss my worn linens’ nubby texture.
The clothes fit surprisingly well, and I wondered how many sets of clothing were tucked into cabinets in case a bond servant was recovering in the palace.
“Hello?” I said, half hoping Talia would emerge to complain about my cleanliness so I could spend the rest of the day in the water.
“Hello,” Talia said, carrying another bundle of fabric. “I have a dress for you.”
“Why do I need a dress? You already left me clothes.” I looked down. “Although the pants are a bit short.”
Talia bit back a grin. “Those are undergarments. Do you want to parade through the palace in those?”
“I don’t want to parade through the palace at all.” Undergarments or not, they were still nicer than anything I’d ever worn.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t too formal.” She unfolded it, revealing a long dress of deep forest green.
The bodice was rounded, the sleeves long and fitted.
The skirt came to midcalf and swung when I moved.
There were no embellishments, no braiding, no trinkets or embroidery.
Just simple lines and fabric that was soft to the touch.
“Do you know how to fasten it?” Talia asked without a hint of judgment.
I just looked at her. “Do I look like a person who knows how to fasten a fancy dress?”
“You look like a person smart enough to figure it out. Turn around.”
I did, and at her direction I stepped into the dress and pulled up the bodice, then held back my still-damp hair as she plucked and adjusted it.
“Turn,” she said, and then gave her attention to the ribbons that crisscrossed the bodice. “Ingenious little design. You tighten these here to adjust the fit. That way, you can do up the dress alone and don’t need a servant to button you.”
It was a good idea. I pulled the ribbons where she pointed, then tied a bow to keep them from moving.
“Do you have a lot of dresses around?” I wondered. Even the sleeves and hem fell to the correct spot—or what seemed like it, anyway.
“No,” she said. “Turn around again.”
I did, and she began to braid my hair into a long queue, with a few loose waves at the temples.
“Now I feel like a show pony.”
“And you’re almost as pretty as one.”
“Ha.”
She spun me back, looked me over. “You’ll do.”
“For what?”
“For living in a palace.”
Famous last words for a thief, I thought.
“Shoes,” she said, shoving a pair of soft leather slippers at me. They’d be useless on the run, but the fit was good.
“Now,” she said, looking me up and down. “You’re clean.”