I move to the window, carefully peering outside to avoid being seen. It’s hard to make something out, but the moon is full and the sky devoid of clouds. Soon, I see a figure dragging something behind them. It’s too difficult to be completely sure, but my breath still stops because it looks vaguely like someone dragging a body.
Bodies don’t scream, I tell myself.
I try to see more, but after a couple of minutes, I get bored. The darkness is too thick, and my body is getting too cold. I slip into my pyjamas and go to bed.
I know, I know, there must be something wrong with me. Maybe I’m just nuts or another one of the string of names I’ve been called throughout my life. At the very least, I’m honest with myself. I mean, there’s no denying there’s something very strange going on in this castle.
IV
That night, I slept more than I had in months. Given yesterday, that was callous, even for me. I tell myself it was physical exhaustion and not indifference that quieted any guilt.
When I stand up, my body feels so sore, it’s difficult to brush my teeth. My lats ache each time I take a deep breath, but weirdly, I kinda like it. I fill my lungs until they protest, leaning into the pain and holding it there.
I find a fresh uniform in the chest of drawers, but my sticky skin makes even the idea of working unbearable. I put it on regardless, stuff my hair in the cap, and leave my room, not to look for a bath, but toaskfor one.
I walk straight to the upper levels, my destination the room I saw Abas in last night. But once I reach it, I see acandelabra taller than me covered in thick candles illuminating the tapestries hanging on the wall. The honeyed wax drips softly to the wood below it. I’m sure this wasn’t here yesterday, but I recognise the pattern of the wall coverings and am certain I’ve reached Abas’ corridor. I count the doors, hesitate, then knock three times.
“Enter,” Abas answers, his voice surprisingly clear through the door.
When I swing it open, I see him sitting in the same chair I’d seen him in yesterday, only this time fully dressed.
“What do you want?” Abas asks calmly.
“I want a bath,” I say confidently. “Or a shower,” I add.
He raises an eyebrow. “Making demands, are you?” he taunts.
“I was digging ditches all day. I’m filthy,” I explain.
“Oh? Are you now?” he says smoothly, a wicked grin crossing his features.
I blush at the double entendre. I hadn’t intended it to be.
Even in bright daylight, this room is just as gloomy as the rest of the castle, but the flames of the fireplace make Abas glow. Suddenly, I remember yesterday. The chair. The fire. Bare skin framed by?—
I blink away the images, completely aware of how inappropriate it is.
“Well, Mister Bloom,” he says, waving me into the room, “come here and show me how filthy you truly are.” He saunters over to the fireplace, leaning on the mantel as if this was a regular Monday morning conversation.
Without a word, I enter until I stand in front of him.
“Good boy,” he mumbles.
An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his tone. He moves two fingers toward the door, and it shuts, almost as if it was beckoned and obeyed.
Abas approaches me slowly, looking me up and down.
“You don’t appear filthy,” he says, walking around me in a wide circle.
“It’s a fresh uniform.” I try not to flinch at his intent gaze. I feel small again, trapped but not in a bad way.
“Well, then, take it off. Show me why you must bathe.” He stands back, arms crossed, waiting.
I hesitate only a moment before my fingers unbutton my shirt, my sore arms slipping out and letting it drop to the floor. My body, it seems, made a choice before my mind could even begin to talk me out of this.
Abas approaches, then bends down until his face is very close to my chest. I can feel his breath on my skin. It’s surprisingly cold, and goosebumps form where it touches me. From my belly button all the way up to my neck, he smells me. My breath stops at his closeness, and I feel the hairs on my skin rise. I want to touch him, but I don’t dare move.
“You don’t smell filthy.” He steps back again.
