Otto growled.
“Oh, stop. It’s probably one of your admirers.” She crossed the room and opened it to find not three women but four. The one in the front was an older, plump lady with an odd yet quite pretty, metallic skin tone, a kind of silvery, pearlescent hue. The other three seemed more golden than silver, but they shimmered whenever the light hit them just right, too. All four curtsied, and Calia didn’t have a clue how to react. Should she curtsy too? Instinct and what few historical movies she’d watched suggested otherwise. She settled for opening the door wider and allowing Otto to charge into the hallway as she invited them in. “In case you didn’t know, that was Otto. I’m Calia, and you are?”
The older lady led the way, crossing the threshold with a jaunty bob of her head. “’Tis a pleasure to serve ye, Mistress Calia. I am Mynlis, housekeeper here at Wraith Tower.” As she ushered in the other three, she pointed them out one by one. “These are the maids I selected to serve ye, and the mighty Wraith himself approved each of them. But if they dinna suit ye now, ye’ve but to say the word, and they will be gone. This is Kernia, Wesni, and Sasa.” Propping her clasped hands on the shelf of her hefty middle, the housekeeper nodded some more. “The lads are bringing up the bathtub and the heated water for yer bath, and Kernia has already filled yer wardrobe with the verra best garments she has ever stitched.”
With a proud smile, Kernia flitted across the room with the lightness and grace of a butterfly and threw the doors open to the tall cabinet, revealing an amazing amount of clothing that was either folded and placed on shelves or hanging from bars and hooks. “I hope ye find them suitable, mistress.”
“I’m sure they’ll be…fine.” Calia wasn’t entirely sure of that at all. First, she preferred slacks or jeans, and second, how could they possibly be the correct size? But she would be nice. Everyone here was trying so very hard. It would be rude to behave otherwise. Uncomfortable with being the center of attention, she drew her robe closer around her, hugging herself through the fluffy material. Thankfully, the clothes she’d snatched up before Mairwen’s disappearing spell got them had remained in the room that no longer resembled anything close to her cozy little bedroom in the cottage.
“This morning, Wesni will see to yer bathing, and Sasa to yer hair,” Mynlis said, “and, of course, once ye know them better, ye may decide what other duties suit each maid’s capabilities.”
Bathing? Calia swallowed hard. Sewing her clothes and styling her hair was one thing, but bathing her? “Uhm…when you say bathing, you mean getting the water, soaps, and towels ready—right?”
Mynlis slowly blinked as if struggling to process the question. “Did no one bathe ye in yer time, mistress?”
“I’ve bathed myself since I was about five.”
“Five what, mistress?”
“Five years old.”
“But here, ye are the mistress of Wraith Tower. Yer maids are happy to bathe ye.” Mynlis and the other three exchanged uncomfortable glances, obviously afraid they’d offended her.
“How about a compromise? They can scrub my back and wash my hair. I can handle everything else.” Calia cleared her throat, trying to free her voice of its nervously shrewish squeak. “I’ll definitely need help dressing properly. Mathison…er…the Wraith would rather I didn’t wear my jeans.”
“Jeans?” Sasa asked, her voice as wispy and golden as she was. “What are jeans, mistress?”
Calia scooped up one of the pairs she’d saved from Mairwen and held them up. “Not my favorites, but one of the few I was able to prevent from disappearing.”
Sasa studied them while inching closer. She reached out and rubbed the material between her long, thin fingers. “These are not like the trews from here.”
Trews. Seems like that was what Mathison had called them, too. With a resigned sigh, Calia refolded them and set them on the chair with the few other items she’d rescued. “I need all of you to help me look like a proper wife here in the Ninth Realm. The Wraith said it would be safer if I did my best to fit in.” She still wasn’t wild about that particular request from Mathison, but until she knew more about this place, what he’d said made sense.
All four of the shimmering ladies beamed at her, obviously pleased she wouldn’t make their job any more difficult than it already was. Mynlis clapped her hands and turned to the three maids. “I shall leave ye to it, then. Treat our mistress with care, or I’ll be finding out why not and setting things right myself, ye ken?”
The three curtsied and replied in unison, “Aye, Mynlis.”
The housekeeper tipped a respectful nod at Calia. “I bid ye good morning, then, mistress. Send for me if ye have need of anything.”
“Thank you. I will, Mynlis.”
No sooner had the housekeeper left the room than a sharper knock rapped on the door. Wesni threw up her hands as if someone had jabbed her with a stick. “That be the bath. I am sure of it.” She rushed to the door, threw it open, and changed from the serene, obedient servant to a war general. “’Tis about time ye got the mistress’s bath up here. What took ye? Over there by the hearth with it. Step to it now! She’d like to bathe before she grows too old to care.”
A pair of tall, gangly lads, possibly teenagers and both with hair as reddish brown as a woodland fox and attitudes just as cocky, shot annoyed looks at the maid but hurried to follow her orders. They carried in a shining copper bathtub trimmed in what looked like hammered bronze. With tall sides and the luxurious curves of an Art Deco creation, the thing was big enough for two. After placing it to Wesni’s satisfaction, they both turned to Calia, took a knee, and bowed their heads.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Calia hoped that was the appropriate thing to say. It seemed to be, because both looked up and smiled before hurrying back out of the room.
Two more young men appeared at the bedroom door, each of them bearing a couple of large black kettles. This pair seemed older than the two who had brought in the tub. They were more muscular, and their hair had a distinct bluish tint. Both of them had beards and mustaches so long that they hung in dark blue braids that touched their chests. Without so much as a glance in her direction, they went to the tub and poured, and poured, and poured an unbelievable amount of steaming water out of the four kettles. They didn’t stop pouring until the enormous bathtub was full.
“How did you do that?” Calia moved closer, stepping up beside the tub and eyeing the kettles that were no larger than a normal cast iron teakettle.
The youth to her right bowed his head. “We are water dragon shifters, mistress. Water does our bidding.”
“That’s amazing.” She reached down into the bath and swirled her hand through the water. It was the perfect temperature for bathing. Not quite scalding hot, but not too tepid either. “And it’s just how I like it.”
The young man nodded, then lifted the lid to his kettle, revealing it was still quite full. “It is our honor to serve the mighty Wraith’s mate.”
“Our honor,” echoed the second lad with a polite bow of his head.
