But when she awoke, she found that it was to the sound of someone knocking on the bedchamber door.
Startled, she sat bolt upright in the four poster bed and pulled the covers up over her barely clothed body. Her heart thumped in her chest, wondering whether it was the king come to make his claim upon her body.
Yet when the door didn't open and the knock came again, she sheepishly called, "Come in."
Lord Perivale had never waited to be invited in. He had always knocked, and in the next breath, barged in, if he had bothered to knock at all.
Iris was surprised when the door opened and a small female fae entered carrying a silver tea tray. She curtseyed respectfully to Iris before approaching the bed. Her plain grey dress and white apron indicated to Iris that she was a servant, as did her wings, which had been carefully strapped with ribbon to her back. Perhaps this young fae had a problem with controlling her wings and with the rules of no flying around royals and nobles. It made sense she'd tied them down.
Or perhaps she is as much a slave as I am, Iris thought grimly.
"Honeyed tea, my lady," the girl announced, sliding the tray onto the bedside table.
"I am no lady," Iris assured her before giving the girl a smile of gratitude, "Thank you."
"We have been instructed to call you lady, my lady," a second, more confident voice sounded from the doorway, and Iris looked up to see the fae who had greeted her outside the carriage when she arrived at the palace. He didn't seem quite so tall or daunting now that she had rested.
"But I am not a lady," She insisted.
"You belong to the king now and the king states you are to be treated as a lady," Filton announced. Without giving her a chance to respond, he made a waving gesture with his hand and the door suddenly swung open further. Two burly fae carried a large golden bathtub between them.
Iris gulped at the sight of it. A bathtub had always been brought to her before one of Perivale's visits. Fae gods forbid she should ever be unclean.
She grimaced and leaned back against the mountain of pillows in an attempt to get further away from the tub.
"I don't need to bathe," she shook her head, "What am I required to bathe for?"
Silently she added to herself, if the king believes I'll make myself pretty for him to ruin me again, he is wrong.
"King Ember has requested your attendance at lunch. It would have been breakfast, but you have slept the morning away," Filton announced.
Can you blame me after being dragged from my bed in the middle of the night? Iris thought darkly.
She then realized that had she been at Perivale's villa, she would have stayed in bed until well past noon in the hopes that she would miss him at breakfast and lunch, and for the rest of the afternoon when he left to drink and gamble and do whatever else he did during his day.
He had never invited her to dine with him, only coming to her in the evenings when he had drunk his fill.
"Then why do I need to bathe?" Iris asked, wondering whether Filton might let something slip about what awaited her.
"You were rudely treated last night, my lady," Filton sighed, his voice thick with sympathy. The king thought you might wish to freshen up. He is excited to meet you properly."
Iris was shocked by the thrill his comment sent through her heart. She quickly scolded herself and vowed, I will not give myself to a man who believes he owns me as if I am cattle.
It turned out she had little choice in the matter of bathing. As soon as Filton had left the room, leaving the maid with instructions, two more maids entered and began to gently coax her out of bed and into the bath.
They scrubbed her from head to toe. Although they were fast and thorough, they were also gentle. Iris noticed the way they stopped whenever they came to a bruise or a cut left by her previous master.
"We must do our best to hide this," one maid commented when she paused while wiping Iris's face with a coarse sponge. She pointed at a blackened bruise on her cheek and tsked her tongue against her teeth.
"Quite right. No man, especially a king, wants to know that his property is broken." The second maid commented. Her words made Iris feel sick.
Who are these women? How can they talk like this? Can't they see I am just like them?
She cringed, realizing that they weren't like her at all. Sure, they were female, but unlike her, they were free. They hadn't been sold by their fathers to be beaten and forced into who knew what by their husbands—no, their masters.
Unable to handle their talking about her as if she weren't even there, Iris asked, "Can you tell me about the king? What is he like?"
The expressions of the women didn't instill confidence, and Iris wondered for a moment whether she was even worse off than she had been with Perivale. King Ember couldn't possibly be worse than him, could he?