Chapter6
Ember
I’m just climbing out of the tub when the door to my room opens slowly.
“Hey!” Squealing, I stumble back and fall right back toward the water. Before I can break the surface, though, a woman rushes forward to wrap her dainty hands around my wrists and yank me back to my feet, holding on until I’m steady.
Soft hazel eyes are wide in a youthful face, completely unmarred by life. Near-white hair is braided around her head like a crown then pulled back at the nape of her neck. Appearance-wise, she looks like she might only be in her teens.
“I’m so sorry I startled you, mistress.” The woman releases me and bows her head.
It’s then I realize I’m standing here in all my sickly, nude glory. Quickly, I wrap both arms around my small breasts, hoping to at least shield some of my embarrassment. I’m not modest by any means, but when you look one gust of wind away from being blown over, you tend to want to hide as often as you can. “What are you doing in here?”
Do the characters in my imagination have any manners?
“I came to help you prepare for dinner.”
“Dinner.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Is it already dinnertime? When—
“You’ve been up here for nearly three hours, mistress.” The woman’s dainty voice is barely above a whisper, her tone sharp.
“Three hours?” I gape at her. “That’s not possible. The water is still…” I trail off and reach in to touch it. “Yeah, it’s still hot. There’s no way I’ve been up here for that long.”Cheap storytelling once again, imagination.
“The tub is spelled to remain hot until drained, mistress,” she says, softly. “I am here to help you dress and to escort you down to the dining hall.”
Spelled?I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I’ve seen people killed, fall from the sky, and fly in the matter of the last few hours. “Who are you?”
She curtsies, expression strained. “I’m your handmaiden, mistress. My name is Flora.”
“Flora?”
“Yes, mistress.” She bows her head, gaze meeting the marble floor.
“And you’re going to dress me?”
“Yes, mistress. I assure you, your virtue is safe with me.”
I snort. After years of being poked, prodded, and having to have every inch of my body—inside and out—examined by countless doctors, I have literally no dignity left in that area. Other than my embarrassment over the skin and bones left by the half-decade of only eating enough to keep me from starving to death. “As much as I appreciate your help, I don’t actually have anything other than my leggings—” Slowly, I turn in a circle, searching for the clothes I know I discarded. “Where are my clothes?”
“They have been disposed of, mistress. The king was horrified that you’d be forced to exist in such little clothing. He wanted them destroyed and has given me permission to fill your wardrobe with only the finest garments.”
I arch an eyebrow and study the woman. “He destroyed my clothes?” Frustration heats my cheeks before I remember that none of this is happening.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Please stop calling me mistress. My name is Ember.”
“You wish for me to call you by your name?” The woman looks genuinely pained by my request.
“Yes. Ember.”
She studies me a moment longer then finally nods. “Very well, Ember. I will refer to you by name within your chambers, but the moment we leave this room, I will return to calling you mistress. I will not risk punishment from the king should I not follow his law.”
“Wait. Seriously? Why?”