My eyes followed the copper pipes that ran along the wall, tracing their path to a large brass valve. If the cistern system still functioned after all these years, turning that valve should release water into the tub. If not...well, I’d face that problem when it arose.
I approached the valve, gripping it with both hands. It refused to budge at first, years of disuse having sealed it shut. I leaned my entire weight against it, muscles straining, teeth gritted against the effort. Just when I thought I’d have to abandon the attempt, the valve gave way with a screech of protest, turning a quarter rotation before stopping again.
Water gurgled within the pipes, a sound so hopeful it brought fresh tears to my eyes. I held my breath, waiting, praying to whatever gods might listen that the ancient system hadn’t failed completely.
A cough, a splutter, and then—miracle of miracles—water began to flow from the tub’s spout. Not the rust-colored sludge I’d feared, but clear, clean water that caught the moonlight streaming through the high windows. The cistern must havebeen designed to filter sediment, another luxury afforded only to the wealthiest homes.
I laughed aloud, the sound echoing strangely in the stone chamber. Such a simple thing, running water, yet in that moment it felt like the greatest gift I could have received. I watched, mesmerized, as the tub slowly filled, the copper bottom disappearing beneath the rising pool.
While the tub filled, I explored the chamber further. Stone shelves built into the walls held empty ceramic pots that might once have contained oils or salts. No soap, unfortunately, but water alone would be a vast improvement over my current state.
In one corner, I found what I’d been hoping for, heating stones. Smooth, round river rocks arranged in a metal basket, designed to be heated in a fire then added to the bath to warm the water. Beside them stood several iron tools, including a long-handled shovel perfect for transporting hot coals or stones.
I gathered the basket of stones, the shovel, and a torch from a wall bracket before making my way back to the bedchamber where my fire now burned merrily in the grate. The journey seemed twice as long returning, my arms laden and my strength fading with each step.
By the time I reached the hearth, I could barely stand. I placed the stones as close to the flames as I dared, then collapsed beside them, watching through half-lidded eyes as the gray rock slowly took on the red glow of heat.
How long I dozed beside the fire, I couldn’t say. I woke with a start to find several stones glowing cherry-red among the embers. Using the shovel, I carefully transferred them to the metal bucket I’d brought, adding a few pieces of split wood as well. I lit the torch from the fire, then gathered my strange collection and began the journey back to the bathing chamber.
Each step required concentration now, my body functioning purely on stubborn will. The bucket’s weight pulled at my arm,threatening to unbalance me with every movement. Twice I had to stop, leaning against the wall until the spinning sensation subsided.
The tub had filled to a perfect depth while I was gone, the valve apparently designed to shut off automatically when the water reached a certain level. Another luxury that would have fascinated Papa. I set down my burdens, fighting the wave of grief that accompanied every thought of him.
Using the shovel, I transferred the heated stones into the water, where they hissed and steamed upon contact. Then I arranged the wood beneath the tub and lit it with the torch, establishing a small fire that would continue heating the bath from below.
The effort left me breathless and trembling. I leaned against the tub’s edge, feeling the copper warm beneath my touch as the heat transferred to the water inside. It wasn’t hot yet, but it was no longer the icy temperature it had been when it flowed from the pipes.
I couldn’t wait any longer. My body craved cleanliness more than perfect comfort. With the last of my strength, I climbed over the tub’s high edge and sank into the lukewarm embrace of the water.
The sensation nearly undid me. Water—clean, clear water—closed over my legs, my hips, my torso as I slid down until only my head remained above the surface. The stones continued to release their heat, the temperature rising gradually around me while the fire beneath added its own warmth from below.
I should have felt like a soup ingredient being slowly cooked, but instead, it was heaven. My muscles unclenched for what felt like the first time in days, the water’s gentle pressure supporting me when my own strength could not. I watched as dirt and blood clouded the once-clear water. It was a mix of mine, Gaspard’s, perhaps even the beast’s.
Mentally, I realized I kept calling him Beast instead of by name. He didn’t have one I could learn right now, so I figured I should just call him Beast. I nodded before turning to see there was nothing within reach to clean myself.
Without soap, true cleanliness remained elusive, but I did what I could. I scrubbed my skin with my palms, paying special attention to the places where Gaspard’s touch had left me feeling soiled. Between my thighs, I worked carefully, washing away Beast’s dried seed and the blood of my body’s surrendering. It should have felt violating, what Beast had done, yet somehow it didn’t carry the same taint as Gaspard’s assaults. It had been animal, primal, but not cruel.
I ducked my head beneath the surface, running my fingers through my tangled hair until it flowed free around my shoulders. When I emerged, gasping, I felt newborn somehow. Not clean, not yet, but cleansed in some fundamental way that went beyond mere soap and water.
The bath’s heat had risen to a delicious warmth, seeping into my bones and easing aches I hadn’t even realized I carried. I lingered until the fire faded and the water began to cool and my fingertips wrinkled like dried fruit, reluctant to leave this small sanctuary of normalcy in a world gone mad.
But exhaustion eventually won out over comfort. I climbed from the tub with arms and legs that felt like lead, water streaming from my body onto the stone floor. With no towel to dry myself, I stood shivering beside the tub until the worst of the moisture had dripped away, then made my final journey back to the bedchamber.
The green dress still waited where I’d left it. Though, I left it until I dried some more near the blazing fire in my hearth. It felt delicious until my body began to sway where I stood.
I picked up the dress with clumsy fingers, struggling to make sense of its fastenings in my exhausted state.
It slipped over my head more easily than I’d expected, the fabric settling against my damp skin in a way that would have been uncomfortable had I the energy to care. The sleeves were too long, the waist too high, but it covered my nakedness and that was enough for now.
The fire had burned down to embers during my adventures, casting a soft red glow across the chamber. I approached the bed, pulling back covers that smelled of dust and time. If there were creatures living in the ancient mattress, they would have to make room for one more tonight. I hadn’t the strength to fear bedbugs or mice or whatever else might have made its home here during the castle’s abandonment.
I crawled beneath the blankets, my damp hair spreading across the pillow like seaweed. My hand found Papa’s knife beneath the second pillow, its familiar weight a small comfort in this strange place. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new horrors perhaps, but for now, I had achieved the basics of survival.
Clean. Warm. Safe, at least for the moment.
The last thought before sleep claimed me was of amber eyes watching from the darkness. Beast’s eyes. My beast’s eyes. When he returned, I would have questions that demanded answers. But for now, for this small pocket of time, I allowed myself to sink into oblivion, carried away on waves of exhaustion too powerful to resist.
thirteen
