Chapter 8 - Charlize
I sit in the dimly lit cell, hating the stink of my skin blended with that of a dead mouse in a corner. I can give anything to have a proper bath right now. And the fact that Sinth had actually seen me in this state makes me feel a certain way.
But why?
Why do I care so much about his perception of me? Is it because he’s the only one that’s been a little less mean to me? Scratch that. He’s been kind to me; soft and gentle in how he speaks with me.
He promised to get me a better meal for dinner, and he did. The guards, an hour after he left my cell, had brought me a bowl of soup with the largest chicken wings I’ve ever seen in my life. On the same tray were some grapes and berries and a stainless cup of clear water.
I honestly didn’t hesitate to devour the food because I was so hungry. It was the best meal I’ve had in my entire life. I had the most delicious food in a prison cell—how ironic!
And it’s all thanks to King Sinth. He’s not only the reason I ate to my satisfaction for the first time in a long time; he’s also the reason I’m still breathing right now. If he hadn’t stopped the mean, always brooding King, I would’ve been dead and forgotten already.
I owe him my life.
The thought of that alone makes my lips curl into a faint grin at the corners of my mouth. I think about the look in his eyes when he stopped by the other day. There was something about the way he stared at me that made my heart swell with a feeling I’m still too afraid to label.
The sound of his soothing voice echoes at the back of my mind, a constant reminder that he’s not my enemy.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not here to hurt you.” My smile broadens at the mere thought of those words.
The most shocking thing he did was asking for my permission before releasing his pheromones. He could’ve just done so without seeking my consent. Yet, he chose to involve me first.
That gesture only proved one thing to me: King Sinth, unlike everyone else I’ve come across, doesn’t see me as a useless thing. He sees me as a person—a living, breathing person with a mind and a will. That’s more than anyone has ever seen me as.
My cheeks flush, my fingers tucking red hair strands behind my ear. I keep myself distracted with the thoughts of King Sinth, wondering why he hasn’t come visiting again. Maybe it’s a good thing that he hasn’t come down here yet. I don’t feel like I look presentable to him.
I honestly don’t know why, but I don’t want him seeing me like this—dirty and unkempt.
I’m still deep in my own head when I hear approaching footsteps. I raise my head, and my heart skips a beat. I’m immediately torn within myself. A part of me thinks it’s him—King Sinth—and is elated that he’s finally come.
However, another part of me is afraid of him seeing me in this horrible state of mine.
When I find out that it’s just the guards, I’m both relieved and disappointed at the same time. There are two young women with the guards, dressed in loose black and white fabrics. One’s tall and lanky, with hazel-brown eyes and short dark hair.
The other is shorter, older—maybe in her mid-forties—almost twice the age of the lanky woman. Her hair is covered up with a scarf wound around her head. She’s quite portly, with ice-cold eyes and a flat expression.
I rise to my feet as the guard steps forward and unlocks my cells. The clanking sound of metal echoes off the walls as he opens the barred door.
I shift my gaze between the two women and the guard, unsure of what’s happening.
“Come on out,” the short woman says to me. Although her voice is flat and sharp, it’s still very polite.
I hesitate for a moment.
“We’re moving you from the dungeon,” she adds.
My mind goes straight to King Sinth. This is definitely the work of his hand. I waste no further time leaving my cell and joining them on the other side.
They lead me out of the dungeon and take me to a room that’s twice the size of my father’s house. There’s a four-poster bed adorned with clean white sheets at the center of the room.
Golden candle stands hang on the high walls, their flickering flames casting warm across the space. The floor, polished to a shine, is cool beneath my bare feet. And with every step I take, I leave blackened footprints behind.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have them cleaned up,” the older woman says like she just read my mind.
We stop at the center of the room, and the woman says to me, “Take off your clothes.”
“Huh?” My eyebrows arch in an instant.
The younger one chuckles quietly, her head lowered. “What she means is that it’s time to take a proper bath.”
“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck with one hand. “Um…I think I can manage.”
“We know you can,” she adds.
I smell a ‘but’ coming.
“But it’s our job,” she explains. “We were given specific instructions to bathe you ourselves.”
My brows knit together, forming faint creases between them. “I’m not a child. I can bathe myself.”
“Kings’ orders,” says the older woman.
There’s no way I’m winning this argument, obviously. I’ll just have to do as I’m told regardless of how uncomfortable that process is going to be.
“Well, go on.” The older woman’s gaze doesn’t leave me. “Take them off.”
A small scowl perches on my face. “Could you like, maybe…turn around?”
The younger one arches her brows while the older one keeps a straight face when she says, “What difference would it make? We’re still going to bathe you.”
“Just turn around, will you?” I insist.
The younger one leans in and whispers in the other’s ear. She then heaves a sigh, and the two turn their backs to me.
I take off my clothes, making sure my coins are still hidden in my inner pouch. I fold my dress and gently set it on the floor beside the bed.
I hate that I have to reveal my plus-sized body to these women.
I hate that they now have to see my nakedness and the insecurities I always hide underneath my clothes.
I exhale softly. “You can turn around now.”
They do.
Neither of them looks at me weirdly. They both had their eyes on my face, and to my surprise, it’s not as awkward as I thought. Well, it was at first. But I ease into it smoothly.
“Come. Follow me.” The older woman leads the way toward the bathroom. “Brianna, make sure her clothes are washed…” The statement is directed at the younger one.
“No,” I cut her off.
She pauses and looks at me.
“I’ll wash them myself.” I can’t risk anyone getting their hands on my money.
The older woman stares at me for a moment. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
I don’t reply.
“Fine. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
The bathroom is spacious and very neat. With the help of the two women, I sink into the copper tub, the warm water wrapping around my skin.
I let out a quiet exhale and close my eyes, basking in this pleasure and comfort.
For one disoriented second, I think I’m dreaming. This is way too good to be true—me, treated like royalty.
“Sit still, please.” The older woman’s voice slices through my thoughts.
I sit still because I don’t know what else to do. My mind hasn’t caught up to my body yet. The younger one is scrubbing at the dirt still ground into my hands. When she finishes, she rinses the suds from my shoulders like I’m something worth being careful with.
“Where am I anyway?” My voice comes out low and even.
“Your new quarters.” The older one doesn’t look up from her work. “Orders of the Kings.”
Kings? All three of them? Including the mean one?
I guess King Sinth must’ve convinced them to move me here. Maybe he’s told them what he learned from me about how I got into this situation.
Just two nights ago I was waiting to die on a cell floor. Now there’s warm water and a robe held open for me like I’m someone who matters. None of it adds up, and I don’t trust it, not for one second, no matter how good the water feels against my skin.
When we’re done, I rise and step out of the copper tub. I’m offered a clean, dry towel, which I use to wipe my skin before slipping into the rope held up for me.
I’m cleaner than I have been and I smell like the jasmine perfume they’d added to my bathing water. I feel like a brand new person, like the old me had been washed away in that tub.
I draw both sides of the robe around my body, my damp red hair sticking to my face as I follow them out of the bathroom. By the time we’re back in the room, my blackened footprints have already been cleaned up.
Flames crackle in the fireplace, keeping the room warm and cozy. My clothes are still untouched beside the folded blankets at the foot of the bed.
Someone’s set out a tray on the table by the window—bread still warm, some kind of stew, fruit I don’t have a name for.
I stare at the food, salivating as my hand darts to my lower abdomen.
“Make yourself comfortable,” the older woman says to me. “The healer will be here soon.”
“Healer?” I shoot my head in her direction.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, the two women turn around and leave the room.
Once alone, I head over to the table and take a bite of the bread.
“Hmm.” I close my eyes, savoring the taste in my mouth.
Best I’ve ever had.
I eat too fast, stomach aching before I’m even done, hating myself a little for how good it feels to be full.
The healer comes not long after, the door creaking open behind me. I turn around, chewing gently, my eyes meeting the old man at the entrance.
His long gray hair spills over his back, his grip tight around a crooked wooden staff. “Hello,” he says, voice deep and manly.
I swallow. “You’re the one who came to see me the other day.”
“I am indeed.” His boots scuff against the floor as he closes the distance between us. “I’d been briefed on your…situation, and I was instructed to examine you.” The slight pause comes after he halts in front of me. “Hold out your wrist.”
I do.
The healer works with quiet efficiency as he checks my pulse, my eyes, and presses gentle fingers along my ribs and throat.
“Hmm.” He sighs, withdrawing his hands from me.
My brows form faint creases between them. “Why did they ask you to examine me?”
“To find out what’s happening in your body, of course.”
“And what did you find?”