I reluctantly followed her instructions about sitting back, but tried to find the soap. “They don’t need to wash me, I can do it—”
“Please, my Lady. Let us assist. It will be faster—and gain her approval,” the maid breathed.
Body tense and mind whirling, I made myself rest back against the tub, hands clasping the sides, grateful for the towels still held up by the two maids on either side of the tub. But they were further away now, leaving room for two other servants to kneel at the side and scrub my skin.
Allof my skin.
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t bathed in the sight of women before. I knew there was no harm to come here. But it had been so long since I’d been naked under anyone’s eyes, except Donavyn’s. And somehow, their perfunctory gazes and quick, efficient movements, made me tense. The only pleasant sensation was my hair being brushed out by the older maid behind me, and the swift tugs and tucks she used to style it.
Despiteloathinghaving all those women’s eyes on me, I was grateful that they were so quick and efficient. It seemed bare minutes before the tugging at my hair ceased, and then the quiet voice rose.
“She’s ready, Your Majesty.”
“Very good, let’s get her dressed before the men take the bath away.”
A rush of gratitude washed through me at the same time I cringed at the thought of those men returning while I was still unclothed.
I pushed to my feet, grateful when the women who’d been holding the towels to guard my modesty, now stepped up and wrapped the thick, absorbent cloths around my body.
At least, that’s what I thought they were doing.
Within moments it was clear—they would dry me, as I would a child.
I stood there, skin damp and cold, contrasting cheeks hot with embarrassment, as I stood with legs wide and arms akimbo so they could scrub every last drop of water from my skin.
But finally, they stood back to allow room for a new set of women to step forward with another blasted corset, and a wide underskirt that they puddled on the carpet and asked me to step into, pulling it smoothly up my legs and over my hips to cover me one blink before the corset was drawn over my body and they began the laborious job of tightening the laces at my back.
Despite the discomfort of having my innards rearranged by the unforgiving corset, it was a relief to no longer be standing in a room full of clothed women, absolutely bare.
A long, sheer veil of fabric appeared over my head suddenly. I instinctively reached to push it back from my face, but the maid caught my hand. “It’s to protect your hair. The dress is one piece and will drop over your head,” she said kindly.
I was instructed to raise my arms, and watched, stunned, as the maids raised the dress on those sticks, so high the skirts dangled overhead, then it was lowered to slide down my body, pausing only to ensure I’d slipped my hands through the small, puffed sleeves, then it continued down to rest on my hips and shoulders, still gaping at the back.
The queen had ignored the process, continuing to speak with other servants—particularly the one with the book—but she turned when the ladies slipped the veil off my head and two of them bent to begin buttoning the dozens of loop-and-roundbuttons that lined the back of the dress from the hollow of my spine, to almost cover my shoulder blades.
There was a great deal of activity suddenly, women straightening pleats, tucking the neckline, pulling the hem wide to rest lightly extended on the carpet—and then the last of heat at my back and fussing with buttons ceased. A pair of silver slippers were slipped onto my feet, then everyone stood back.
I stood in the circle of servants, staring, wide-eyed at the queen as she glided over to stand next to the kind maid, her expression thoughtful.
“Do we dare use the powders?” she said, speaking to the maid.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it would be wise, Your Majesty. If she’s to be seen as naïve, you risk suspicion.”
The queen tipped her head as if she wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, but in the end she flapped a hand. “There isn’t time, anyway. Come, Bren,” she said, beckoning to me. “You need to see yourself before we leave. We are a few minutes late, but I am Queen. They will wait,” she said with a grin that made my stomach flutter.
But I followed her as she turned, stopping me right before a large mirror on the wall.
It took a moment to realize the woman I saw in the mirror wasme.
Thisvisionstared out of the shining surface, eyes wide below hair that had been swept high and twisted, while small tendrils curled to dust her jaw and shoulders. The neckline of her dress was wide, dropping from the points of her shoulders, straight down, and then across in a nearly-square shape to leave her collarbones and upper chest bare, and a full two inches of cleavage plumped almost to a shelf by the corset.
The fit was severe around the torso, but the soft, puffy sleeves extended the curve of her shoulders and the skirt fell in gentle, rose colored pleats from the point of the bodice that fanned wider towards the floor, in flat panels to the hips, where small gathers created a dramatic flare.
The dress bore no embroidery, but was trimmed in a silver fabric that glimmered when the wearer moved.
I could barely believe that stunning creature wasme.If it hadn’t been for the darker skin tone on my face than my neck and chest, which were usually covered by leathers, and the deep tan on the backs of my hands while my arms remained mostly pale, I wouldn’t have seen anything but a lady in the picture before me.
But there was no time to drink her in, or accustom myself to the image. The queen clapped her hands again, ordered the servants to fall back, then led me from the room, calling for our escort.
