“Rubbing alcohol? Like rum?” the woman asked, turning to Alan, who leaned against the mantel with his hands hovering over those long knives.
“No,” Amaris started. Whatever this place was, she hoped it didn’t follow the rules of medieval medical practices. She didn’t want to fend off critics trying to use mercury and bloodletting. “Something to clean it.”
“Using alcohol instead of herbs? Is that a new medicinal practice?” The woman shrugged but continued before Amaris could get a word out. “I’m sure Pricilla will have something for you when she acquaints you with your duties.”
“What about clothes?” Amaris folded her arms across her chest as she spotted her bra poking out from a rip in her shirt.
“I’ll have something for you after you’ve bathed. The others returned reeking of horse dung and horrid body odor.” Her gaze drifted to Alan as she inclined a brow.
Amaris refrained from smelling her armpit. Whether she smelled or not was the last thing on her mind.Escape, run, get help.She sucked in her lips, giving a wry smile as she tiptoed across the room and closed the door to the bathroom. A breath escaped her. She’d survived another encounter in this hell. Her eyelids squeezed tight, and she held her breath, counting to four before releasing it in a slow exhale. She had to stay calm. If she got worked up, there was no telling what they would say to the duke.
What if they kill me?Amaris remembered the hate-filled words spit back and forth between her and Derek. She held back the emotionsclimbing her throat. How was she supposed to prove herself when she didn’t know where she was or how to be whatever a mystique was? Escape was her only option, but first a fresh pair of clothes, something to eat, and a decent bandage.
She took in the immaculate bathroom, a far contrast from the rest of the bedroom. She brushed her hand along the edge of a brass tub. A black-marbled vanity and sink sat to the side, and a toilet was posted in the corner. At least indoor plumbing existed. Her eyes caught a glimpse at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She kept her distance, not wishing another mirror to suffer under her wrath, or to see the cut and bruise marking her cheek. She turned from the mirror, fending off an emotional outburst. As warm water spilled from the spout, she tore off her clothes and slid into the tub.
Amaris couldn’t even begin to fathom what had happened in the last forty-eight hours. The only explanation was she was in some other world. She’d never been one to believe in wormholes or alternate dimensions, but nothing explained the behavior of the soldiers, the kingdom, or even the ocean.
The ripped and bloody excuse for a bandage fell apart when she began unwinding it. Her hand was swollen and red around the small cuts. Biting her lip, she dared to touch one. Instant pain. She dipped her hand beneath the water, needing to do whatever she could to clean it. She expected to flinch or pass out from the soap, but it was a different sensation of pins and needles skittering up her fingers,
Am I trapped here?She didn’t even know how she got here, let alone how she’d go about finding a way back home.Bathe, clothes, bandage, food. Escape later.After scrubbing the last remnants of her weary journey, she stepped from the tub. Her body may have been clean, but she still felt tainted as she caught another glance in the mirror. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wipe away the bruise on her cheek.
Learning all she could about Luana Bay and its inhabitants was hertop priority. They all seemed hell-bent on incriminating her. If she wanted to get back and fix things with Derek, she needed to find a way to escape first, which meant doing a little interrogating of her own. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t welcome in the throne room.Why else would she hide behind a curtain?
Amaris wrapped herself in a thin towel and peeked into the bedroom. The woman still sat in her chair, twirling a blade between her fingers as she bickered with Alan. She wore a black blouse under her leather vest with rolled sleeves to reveal small, white scars scattered across her arms.
She looked the part of a warrior, but without a uniform or a sword or knife attached to her hip, Amaris questioned whether she, too, was one of these soldiers. With Alan’s and Theodoric’s lack of uniform today, maybe not everyone bore their weapons or their rank for the world to see. They certainly hadn’t searched Amaris, but maybe they didn’t expect her to be carrying an old heirloom in her boot.
The woman sprung from the chair as Amaris slid through the crack in the door. “I presume you prefer trousers, judging by what’s left of your ripped garments, but I also laid out an assortment of dresses, skirts, and tunics. I have an older pair of trousers, but I question whether they’ll fit you. Your curves are more prominent than mine.”
Amaris slinked toward the bed, sifting through the pile of clothes. The material was odd, not cheap fabric, but sturdy and without any elastic. “Thank you…”
“Adelaide.” Her tone was short but lacked the callous inflection Theodoric’s held. “I also found these for you.”
Adelaide handed Amaris a small wooden box filled with linen squares and a roll of cloth. Amaris wasn’t sure if they were sterile, but she’d deal with that when she spoke with Pricilla. The soap and water would have to hold her over until then, but an aching feeling spread up her arm.
Amaris placed several of the linen squares over her knuckles, but Adelaide must have sensed her awkward struggle to hold her towel inplace, along with the squares, while she wound the bandage around her arm. Adelaide reached for the bandage, but Amaris’s towel slipped from the small corner she tucked underneath her armpit. Amaris snatched it off the floor, hauling it over her naked body. The inflamed cheeks on Alan’s face were a match to her own as the flush spread up her neck.
Adelaide quirked a brow and tilted her head, flashing Alan a smirk. “A body is a body.” Her glare persisted as he shifted uncomfortably, angling himself to face a different direction.
The towel remained wrapped around Amaris with Adelaide’s assistance while she finished binding her hand, keeping sure to secure her fingers together as best she could. Amaris didn’t want to risk further injuring them or,God forbid, an infection. Amaris grabbed the only pair of pants among the mass of clothes and a navy blouse before heading for the bathroom.
“You forgot this.” Adelaide tossed Amaris a rigid black corset. “You’ll need it.” She placed her hands on her own chest and eyed Amaris’s breasts attempting to spill from her towel.
What a confidence boost.Not only did Adelaide imply Amaris’s butt was too big for her pants, but now she thought a corset was needed to keep the girls from dangling to her knees.
The pants were worn around the edges and barely fit, but Amaris managed to squeeze herfat assinto them. Luckily, they weren’t leather, like Adelaide’s current ones, but they were a strange material. Amaris squatted and hoped the seam of her ass remained intact.
Her fingers fumbled for several long minutes with the corset. Now she could begin to blend in, pretending she belonged while she deciphered where she was and how to get out of here. She contemplated the thought of revealing her true origin, but would they believe her? Bennet and the duke hadn’t accepted a single word she said, but Adelaide seemed different. She hadn’t once attempted to question her.
Amaris zipped up her boots. It barely crossed the boundary of normal,but it felt more like her. The pants, the dark colors, her work boots—all were her—a medieval replica of her work uniform.
Amaris pulled open the bathroom door. Alan had disappeared. Her body went rigid, scanning the room, on high alert.
“He left to scrounge something up from the kitchen. I would be famished if I were you,” Adelaide said.
Adelaide tossed her a comb and plopped onto the bed, stretching her hands behind her head and crossing her boots. Her demeanor was the complete opposite of how Amaris thought her treatment would go. Her lax position didn’t scream that she saw her as a threat, or maybe she was confident in her abilities to catch Amaris if she tried to escape.
She had to decide carefully whether she planned to tell the truth and to whom. They could think she was crazy. If someone had claimed to be from a different world back home, they would’ve been carted off to a government facility.
