Calia had never been so moisturized in her life—and she didn’t smell half bad, either. If only they had toothpaste and a toothbrush. She would make it a point to negotiate the surrendering of those items to her, along with her favorite shirt and jeans, when she spoke to Mairwen. But until then, she needed something. “How do you clean your teeth here?”
Wesni stepped back with the open jar of balm in one hand and a dab of the white goo in the other. “Clean yer teeth?”
“In my world, we have little brushes that we squirt minty toothpaste on to scrub our teeth, and once we’re done with that, we swish mouthwash around in our mouths to ensure our breath doesn’t smell like we’ve eaten roadkill.”
The maid’s pale brows arched nearly to her golden hairline. “Roadkill?” She shook her head. “Forgive me, mistress, but I dinna ken anything about roadkill.”
“Rotting meat,” Calia clarified.
Immediate understanding shone on Wesni’s face. She set aside the balm and lifted the lid to a small box she had fetched from behind the room divider. “Here is yer brush and toothpowder of salt and ground eggshells. If ye wish, I can add oil of mint to it?” She rapidly bobbed her head, obviously very proud. “The brush is of the verra finest boar’s hair.”
Boar’s hair. In her mouth. Calia almost gagged, but swallowed hard to avoid the reaction. “Oil of mint would be wonderful. Lots of it, please.” It would be better than nothing. At least, she would try to convince herself of that.
Wrapped in another warmed length of linen, she wondered if getting dressed every morning was going to be this big of an ordeal. After brushing her teeth with stuff she tried not to think about, her mouth did feel fresher. Thank goodness for that.
“I have it ready!” Kernia announced, bouncing over to Calia with clothes draped over both arms. “While we must obey the Wraith and dress ye proper, I adjusted yer shift, petticoat, and skirt to help as much as possible with what worried ye.”
“I’m intrigued.” And Calia was.
The ingenious maid pulled the white linen garment from the crook of her arm, shook it out, and revealed that instead of the long, old-fashioned nightgown-looking piece of before, it now resembled a blousy set of coveralls. “Whilst I hold it, step in through the top, then we’ll pull it up and tie the ribbons good and snug to cinch up the neckline.”
“This definitely has possibilities.” Calia hurried to don it, then added the pale green petticoat and deep emerald skirt that had been altered into somewhat hidden pants as well. There was still a lot of material swishing around, but she had more mobility than she would have had in the garments’ original form. “Thank you, Kernia. This is so much better than it could have been.”
“Now for the stays, bodice, stomacher, and waistcoat.”
While she wasn’t all that keen on so many layers, Calia knew there was no way around it. At least Kernia had done what she could.
Sasa brushed out Calia’s hair, which was nearly dry except for the thickest part at the base of her skull. But when she attempted to tame it with a caul, Calia drew the line. “No. I am not wearing a hairnet like a cafeteria worker.”
“Like a what?” The maid stared at her in horror.
Ready to be done with this forced dress-up session, Calia shook her head. “I am not wearing a hairnet. Period.”
“But—”
Calia silenced all three of her newly acquired assistants with a sharp look. “No, and if the Wraith has a problem with it, I will deal with him directly. Understand?”
The trio bowed their heads and sighed in unison.
Small victories. Calia wished Intuition would end the silent act. She could really use some backup right now. “Where are you?” she asked her inner voice, silently shouting. She wasn’t used to operating with only one personality.
No answer. Just a displaced feeling of lazy contentedness mixed with satisfaction. Apparently, Intuition had a memorable night as well. Calia shrugged it off, making a mental note to ask Mathison how exactly that worked. A renewed urgency to finish tying up loose ends nudged her. “So, are we done here? Can I join the Wraith now?”
“Not without yer stockings and slippers, mistress.” Kernia waved her toward the bench at the foot of the bed.
“Stockings?”
“Aye.” The maid held up a pair of silky white hosiery along with matching satin ribbons.
“What are the ribbons for?”
“To keep yer stockings up,” Kernia said, eyeing her as if she’d just asked why she shouldn’t jump off a cliff. After smoothing them up to Calia’s thighs, she tied the ribbons snugly above Calia’s knees.
“Interesting.” Calia flexed her legs and wondered what century gave birth to elastic, pantyhose, or plain old knee-high socks.
“And now for yer shoes.” The maid held up a pair of the softest brown leather shoes. “Ye should like these, mistress,” she said as she slipped them on and buckled them.
Calia sighed. Apparently, she was becoming known for being difficult. “Thank you. They’re very nice.”
