“I’ll be sure and tell him you both did a wonderful job. Thank you so much.”
They bowed again, hung the kettles on iron rods over the fire, then left the room, closing the door behind them.
Shrugging off any lingering self-consciousness, Calia started to untie her robe and climb into the tub.
“Wait, mistress!” Wesni hurried forward with a tray of stoppered bottles. With an expectant smile, she held it out. “Which of these is to yer liking? For scenting the water.” One by one, she opened the bottles and offered their stoppers for Calia to sniff.
The first two made her eyes water. The third made her sneeze. “Sorry, I’m super sensitive to perfumes.”
Undeterred, Wesni nodded as if storing the information away for future reference. “Forgive me, mistress. I should have known, what with the pale alpha being yer inner spirit.” She selected the smallest of all the multicolored bottles and removed its glass plug. “What say ye to this one?”
As soon as the fresh, clean scent of newly mown grass hit her, Calia breathed it in deeper. “That’s it. Clean and delicate like the first warm day of spring.” It made her long to kick off her shoes and wiggle her toes in the cool greenness of a well-tended lawn.
“Perfect!” Wesni added a few drops to the bathwater, then carried the tray of bottles behind the divider screen that concealed the commode and the other mystery cabinet of necessities. When she re-emerged, she hugged an armload of folded linens and cloths to her chest. “I shall set these to warming by the fire, mistress. They’ll be nice and toasty as soon as ye’re ready to dry.”
“I have yer soaps and hair oils, mistress.” Sasa set a small table beside the tub and opened its top like an elaborate jewelry box. “Wesni selected them to pair with yer bath oils. She is verra good at scents.”
Calia slowly shook her head as she dropped her robe, climbed into the tub, and sank into the water. “This is like…royalty. I’ve never been pampered like this before.”
“Ye are royalty to us, mistress. Ye are the mighty one’s blessed wife.” Kernia held up a dark green skirt and matching bodice. “Will this suit ye for today?”
“That emerald green is gorgeous.” Calia leaned back, allowing the sloped end of the bathtub to cradle her as she lazily ran a soapy cloth across her arms.
Kernia’s iridescent eyes narrowed. “But ye dinna like it.”
Rather than argue, Calia leaned forward so Wesni could soap her back. “I never said that.”
“Ye nay had to, mistress.” Kernia lifted her nose and sniffed. “I smelt yer unhappiness.”
“Bring the pitcher, Sasa,” Wesni said. “We may rinse her now, and ye can tend to her hair.”
“Is it the color?” Kernia asked.
If her unhappiness had a stink to it, then a lie probably reeked. Calia closed her eyes and submerged before Sasa could fetch the pitcher. When she resurfaced, all three entirely too intuitive maids were staring at her, waiting for an answer. “I do not like skirts or dresses. Never have. Layers of cloth slow me down and hinder movement when I need to defend myself or get out of a difficult situation.” She had felt this way ever since an assignment as an undercover actress, where an elaborate gown had nearly cost her life when it got tangled in backstage rigging while she chased the suspect. “I like jeans. Leggings. Fitted garments that let me move. It’s just what I’m used to, but I understand I’m going to have to adapt. It’s nothing against you or your choices. So yes, that outfit is fine. Pick whatever you want. It really doesn’t matter to me, because I’m going to be wishing for trews, anyway.”
“I see.” Kernia scowled at the garment as though it had wronged her in a past life, then flicked a hand at the others. “See to the mistress. I have some adjustments to make.”
It would still be a skirt, but Calia didn’t say that part out loud. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy Sasa washing her hair and massaging her scalp.
“Ye have such lovely hair,” the maid said, “and the pale alpha’s ribbon of purity sets off yer eyes.”
“Ribbon of purity?”
“Aye, this right here.” Sasa combed her nimble fingers through the band of white hair that had appeared overnight after Gillian’s cancer diagnosis. “Long ago, the pale one gave her ribbons of purity only to those she deemed the most worthy.”
Calia accepted the explanation with a polite smile and kept her eyes closed. Another of the Ninth Realm’s legends she would have to learn. So much to learn and understand. The task suddenly seemed quite daunting, so daunting that it risked smothering her. She sat up and leaned forward. “Rinse now, please. I don’t need to dawdle.” Mathison had promised to try to contact Mairwen. She had no idea how he meant to do so, but she wanted to get it done sooner rather than later.
“Forgive me, mistress.”
Sasa’s dejected tone filled Calia with guilt, but it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t need to waste the better part of the day bathing and dressing. While a good scrubbing was welcome since she’d lost access to nice little necessities like deodorant, toothpaste, body spray, and anything else that kept her from smelling entirely too earthy, it was time to get on with it. She had questions that needed to be answered. But still…she needed to be nice about it. “Sasa, there is nothing to forgive. You’re doing great. I’m just a little on edge because I have so much to figure out.”
“We will help ye all we can, mistress.” The spritish maid gently rinsed out Calia’s hair, then massaged a fresh-smelling oil into her scalp.
Wesni appeared, holding up a large swath of linen. “’Tis well warmed now, mistress. Once we’ve dried ye, I’ve oils and balms to keep ye fresh for whatever the day holds.”
That sounded promising. Calia stepped out of the bath and was swarmed by the trio of maids, drying, patting, and nudging her closer to the fire.
“Ye mustn’t get chilled whilst we tend to ye,” Wesni said as she applied a balm as sweet and refreshing as the newly mown grass scented bath oil to Calia’s armpits and massaged it in before applying it to her back, arms, and legs.
