Relief.
Heat seeps into every pore, every aching muscle, straight to my bones. All the little pains drift away, replaced by melting pleasure. My eyes roll back in my head and I almost let out a moan.
I had no idea that baths could be like this, like anything other than a chilly race to get myself slightly clean. If I’m going to be stuck here—fighting for my life, captive to an unwanted bond—well then, I’m going to take one of these every fucking night.
Pouring some soap into my hands, I lather it into my hair, trying not to look at the thick silver stands slipping over my shoulder. I’m not sure why it unsettles me so much except… it isn’tright.
The hair is just another reason I don’t belong here. Another sign that screamsoutsider. I can’t even bond right.
Whatever. I’m glad I’m an outsider. This world of the Bonded is totally fucked. Except, of course, for these goddess-sent baths.
I duck my head to wash the soap out of my hair and surface again to find a pair of Strategos Rawbonds has joined me in the washroom. One of them is the tall, beautiful blonde woman who sleeps in the bunk next to mine—Perielle, I think her name is. Her skin is luminous and her hair is already glossy and clean. In my part of the city, it would be seen as a waste of water to bathe in her condition.
Even though I haven’t spent much time around women my own age, I know how social hierarchies work, and based on what I’ve observed in the past day, Perielle most definitely sits atop the food chain. While Tomison attracts a crowd of admirers wherever he goes, Perielle seems to have lackeys and those who fear her in an awe-ridden way.
The two young women cast me identical looks of scorn and cross to the tub farthest away, a reminder that I am at the bottom of that chain. They proceed to chat in low tones, ignoring me completely. That’s just fine with me.
Except they’re not the last to join us. More of my fellow Strategos come trickling steadily in, men and women alike. They all go about undressing and washing like it’s totally normal.
Meanwhile, I’m shrinking in the water, brutally aware of my nakedness.
How can they all be so blasé? The two people I’ve ever seen completely naked are my little sister—before she was old enough to bathe herself—and Lee, after we’d been seeing each other for months and could finally get some time alone at his apartment. But these people seem totally at ease with their nudity, regardless of gender.
Before long, the steam-slick walls of the washroom echo with voices and laughter. The tubs are full of people—three and four in each. Others wash in the spray of the taps that line the wall behind the tubs, while yet more primp and pose before the big mirror, excitedly talking about dresses and hairstyles for the Presentation.
I finish washing, trying not to stare at all those lean, naked bodies; the smooth skin and gleaming muscles that speak of good nutrition and copious training.
Finally, as I gather my courage to get out of the water, Izabel comes breezing in. She spots me immediately and makes a beeline in my direction.
“Look at this!” she exclaims, shrugging out of her robe. “A whole tub to ourselves!”
I grimace and cross my arms over my breasts as she clambers into the water.
“Careful, you’ll catch my commoner disease,” I quip. It comes out a lot more bitter than I meant it to.
Izabel laughs. “Ignore those idiots, they’re probably just intimidated by you.” Then she notices my posture. “Wait, are youshy?”
I glare at her.
She laughs again. “You’ll get used to it. After all, when you might die tomorrow, why waste time on shame? Plus, we’re supposed to be a pack, you know? Gotta get used to sharing everything.”
I’m not sharing squat with these bastards,I think. But I wish I could share their ease, even so. All I can do is think about the years of scrubbing other people’s clothes in cold wash buckets. Poverty teaches you a whole different set of lessons about modesty.
“You better get out before you start getting pruny,” Izabel says, nabbing my bottle of soap. “I’ll meet you back in the bunk room shortly.”
I nod and force myself to clamber out, careful not to rush. The last thing I need is to slip on the marble and fall on my face in front of everyone. Naked.
Thankfully, no one seems to look at me as I scurry to wrap myself in one of the big fluffy towels. It’s sosoft—far softer than anything I’ve ever put on my body before.
Once again, it’s such an extravagant waste. Why do the Bondedtraineesget fluffy towels like this, when we’re supposed to be in austerity mode as a nation, saving money to send to our troops? Is this just a lie that the king feeds to the commoners, so he can keep his chosen ones in comfort?
But the place in my chest that used to hold my churning anger has been hollowed out. I don’t have the mental capacity for the fury at the Bonded anymore. All I can think about is my own survival.
Back at the bunks, Venna is waiting. She smiles when she sees me and gestures to a pile of stuff beside her on Izabel’smattress. There’s a dress, fancy boots, jewelry, little tins of makeup, and other things I can’t even name.
Well, shit, I think, steeling myself once again.Here we go.
An hour later,Izabel and Venna have done their worst. They’ve been fussing over me like I’m their personal doll, having a lot more fun with it than strictly necessary, in my opinion. I’m adorned in a dozen expensive things the sisters nicked off other trainees they know in all the packs, all the way down to a set of elaborate silken undergarments that make me blush every time I think about them.
