The servants gave her another bow and shuffled from the room.
For a moment, this new lady didn't move, and neither did Nyssa. Nyssa noted every swollen scar on her face. A scratch across her cheekbone, split brow on the left, nose slightly bent at the end as though it had been broken... On her chest was a long pink scar between her breasts. Her cheeks sank into her mouth, making her features more gaunt-skeleton-like.
The woman crossed her arms over her chest, and Nyssa caught the sight of jeweled rings on her fingers glinting at the light.
"So you are the woman whom my husband thinks will be a good enough present for our Prince upon his arrival?" she asked, more to herself.
Nyssa didn't move. She held her chin high, back straight, pushing her arms firmly in front as the woman started walking around her, eyes scrutinizing her every feature.
She pulled Nyssa's hair off her shoulder and moved it between her fingers. "Beautiful hair, I will give you that," she muttered. "But this body..." Her hand was on Nyssa's waist, pinching her skin “—we will have to do something about it. You are built of sturdiness and grasp, girl. Such will not be tolerated by our King. We'll need to take fifteen pounds from you at least. Perhaps more. Especially with this...Hardness,” she said as she grasped Nyssa’s arm. Her eyes shifted down to Nyssa’s hip, and the woman grasped her flesh between her fingers, pulling it away and tsk’ing her tongue at the small amount of fat Nyssa had finally been able to put on her body.
Nyssa's jaw clenched at the words, her mind flashing to her own mother walking around her just as this woman was doing when she was a child, scrutinizing her weight and calling her 'girl.' The memory of it made Nyssa's eyes flutter, but she held herself together. Board straight with defiance and rigor.
She wanted to punch this woman in the throat.
The woman circled back around and paused just in front. Nyssa could feel her eyes on her, knew the woman was watching her every flinch. But Nyssa kept her eyes looking past the woman's shoulder into the shadows, and she focused on her breathing.
One.
—The woman's hand seared across her face.
It caught her off guard, but Nyssa gripped in her toes and allowed the sting of the woman's rings to flinch in her cheek. Her hair landed over her skin, and the frailty of the strands burned against her stinging flesh. Nyssa couldn't help her eyes from rolling up to the woman's as she slowly moved her head, her hair falling back over her shoulder.
The woman’s lips curled wickedly. "At last," she declared triumphantly. "A glimpse of your truth."
Nyssa jerked the hair off her face and straightened. She pulled her chin higher as though the act of it would tell this woman she would not be broken. But she didn't say anything.
The woman chuckled under her breath. "It will be fun breaking you."
Nyssa met her eyes. "Looking forward to it,” was the only words she allowed herself to give.
The woman's brow lifted a fraction. She glanced over her shoulder and said, "Porter Quinn," just loudly enough for the man outside to hear.
The door opened, and the guard that had brought her down the hall appeared. He gave the woman a short bow.
"Quinn, I want you to shackle our guest and bring her up with me to my husband," she instructed him.
"Yes, ma'am."
Nyssa didn't stop staring at the woman as the guard, or Porter as she realized they were being called, shackled her wrists in irons.
The Noble was leaning against the table when they appeared back in the room. He swirled his drink in his cup as he pushed off, and then he gave the woman a kiss on her cheek.
"What do you think, my wife?" he asked as Nyssa was taken to the center of the room.
The woman’s arms crossed, and she leaned into his hand that had settled around her waist. "I think you're an idiot," she muttered.
He seemed to find this amusing. "Tell me why?"
"Because for her to be a Princess worthy of us presenting to our King or Prince, we'll have to take at least fifteen pounds off her. Possibly more with all her sturdiness,” the woman declared. "She needs a lemon washing of this hair. It should glow more against her skin. We'll have to save that therapy closer to his arrival. She should stay out of the sun until then. These spots on her skin are no good. The Prince will think her diseased." The woman stepped around to her back. "I saw she has a marking on her shoulder. A great big thing of black scarring that resembles an eagle. He will not be happy about it."
"Perhaps he will see it as his true triumph over this land," the Noble argued. "To have an Haerlandian with such a marking would show his true power and victory."
"Perhaps,” she considered, though it didn’t sound like she believed him. She stepped around Nyssa and finally came to a rest against the table again with her husband. "Tell me why you bought a woman with so many things wrong with her to present our Prince?"
"She was free in the end. Idiotic natives thinking they could barter a way into our court," Bechmen informed her. "I thought you would enjoy a project, my dear."
The woman gave Nyssa another once over. "Project indeed," she muttered. "She'll be up to standard in six weeks. Time after that will be spent grooming her for his servitude. I imagine he would like her unbothered? New?"
