With a sigh, I finish undressing and step into the tub. I submerge myself in the hot water, letting it rise to my shoulders.
I feel it caress the healing welts on my back.
Chapter Seven
Tressa
The past month has been the most horrible of my life. And that’s saying something, considering what I’ve endured before coming here.
The servants hate me. They think I’m favored by their master because I have my chambers next to his and eat at his table. I’ve become the main topic of gossip at the palace, and that only serves to isolate me further and make me feel ashamed. Even though I haven’t done anything to deserve their malice. The young girls, especially, look at me with such venom that I’ve started avoiding the corridors where they work. I have no friends here, no one to talk to, no one who understands what I’m going through.
Greta, who is in charge of me, looks at me with resentment and disdain.
I don’t understand why Altair is punishing me so harshly. I can understand that wyverns are possessive and he considers me his property. But still, what he’s doing makes no sense. He could have me as a servant and not treat me this way.
Why would he want to isolate me from everyone? What does he gain from it? It’s almost as if he’s punishing me for my family leaving fourteen years ago.
Or maybe, it could be something else. Altair calls me at all hours of the day or night, even if what he needs is small, silly, or irrelevant. He summons me to pick up a book he dropped on the floor, or to puff up his pillows because they’re not puffed up enough. It gives me the impression he wants me there with him.
I wonder if he is lonely himself, and he’s punishing me for it. I’ve never seen him spend time with anyone else. He never gets visitors, and the only time he interacts with someone other thanme – or the brief interactions he has with the other servants – is when he goes to the north wing to see his parents.
I’ve been wondering about his parents. I never see them. It’s not like I want to see Lord Varrick. The memories I have of him are terrible. I’d rather never lay eyes on that monster again.
Altair and I have fallen into a sort of routine. Mostly, I am made to wash and press his clothes. I also tidy his room, change his sheets, and serve his food. And I always eat his leftovers because it’s the only thing I’m allowed to eat. By now, I’ve become accustomed to it. I don’t feel as humiliated as I did on the first day, though the bitterness never fades.
At least Altair kept his promise and gave me the rest of the money that he agreed to pay at the auction. I sent it to Alana along with a letter. A few days later, I received a letter from Alana, but while Altair allowed me to read it, when I asked for pen and paper to write back, he said that I’m not allowed to. This upset me so much that the next time I served him dinner, I made sure to spill food and wine on him. The next morning, I scorched his lap with hot coffee.
No matter what I do, and no matter how horrible I am to him, he retaliates by being just as horrible. While showing me that my actions don’t affect him at all. On the contrary, sometimes he gives me the impression that he enjoys my abuse. I certainly do not enjoy his.
The letter from Alana made me feel slightly better. My father’s debt was paid and he’s safe. She and her mother are thinking of selling the house and buying a bigger one in the center of the city. She isn’t working at the brothel anymore. So, at least I feel like I did something good. Even though I am suffering at the hands of Lord Aurellion, it is worth it. This is what makes me continue and not break down completely.
I’m forbidden from leaving the palace, which also makes me detest Altair with every fiber of my being. Every chance I get,I insult him and hurl things at his head. We’re at war, and it’s exhausting, but if he’s going to make my life hell, I will do the exact same to him.
Every night, Altair keeps ordering me to run him a bath and assist him with bathing. I refuse each and every time.
However, his insistence is starting to wear me down. It’s becoming more and more stressful to have this pressure hanging over me. With each day that passes, I wonder if this is going to be the rest of my life, and if I can survive it. If I can survive being so isolated and alone, unable to connect with anyone.
If Altair allowed me to write to Alana, at least I’d have some sort of way to process my feelings. I know Alana would understand and support me. Or maybe she’d say that I need to leave. Which makes sense, because I’d give myself the same advice.
Except I’m trapped. I was paid an unbelievable amount to do the job I’m doing, and I know other servants would love to be in my place. It’s certainly easier to serve just one person, the lord of the House, instead of doing all the other jobs around the palace. As annoying as said lord can be.
So, after a month, I’m exhausted and my resilience is starting to falter.
Tonight, when Altair once again asks me to run him a bath, I do it with a sigh. When he asks me to help him remove his jacket and his shirt, I look at him defeated, close the distance between us, and start unbuttoning.
My gesture shocks him. Altair is looking down at me as if he can’t believe his eyes. I’m finally executing his order.
I take a deep breath before I start unbuttoning his shirt. I notice that Altair takes a sharp breath himself when my fingers brush his bare skin.
I can feel my neck and cheeks flush. My body starts to warm up. I try to keep it together. I help him out of his shirt and lookat him standing before me with his chest bare and his golden wings spread behind him. His strong, thick tail swishes as if he’s nervous.
His demeanor has changed. He’s not as cold and confident as before. He didn’t expect me to do it tonight, since I’ve been refusing for a month, and that makes me feel kind of powerful.
Next, I take hold of his leather belt and undo it. His chest rises and falls rapidly. He doesn’t stop me when I unbutton his trousers, but before I yank them down, I freeze and wonder if I will actually do it.
“Well?” Altair asks after a moment.
I clear my throat, pull my shoulders back, and look right into his eyes as I cock an eyebrow.
