“I understand, Soren. There’s no need to worry, though.”
She stepped back, allowing them in. Lady Anabeth was brushing her long hair, examining her features in the mirroras Soren stepped inside the chamber. She hardly gave the handmaidens a glance, as if unconcerned by their presence.
Soren busied herself readying the oils and milk for the princess’ bath while Mona, Thelia, and Jasmen served her breakfast and pulled back the curtains.
A knock sounded on the door, and Soren hurried to answer it. A boy, probably about thirteen, stood there, two full pails of steaming water in his arms.
“Water for the princess’ bath, miss,” he said in a trembling voice.
She nodded curtly, reaching out. “Thank you. I’ll take the buckets from here.”
“Are you sure, miss? They’re heavy,” he said, his pale blue eyes earnest.
“I’m sure.” She paused, examining him. “Are you new? I’ve never seen you before.”
The boy hesitated but replied, “Yes, miss.”
Soren feigned a soft smile then leaned in and murmured, “Don’t try to run. They’ll catch you and kill you before you can even beg for your life, understand?”
She pulled back, still smiling as she took the pails of hot water. The boy’s eyes were wide, but he only bobbed his head and hurried away down the hall.
She shut the door, Mona eyeing her suspiciously as she hauled the buckets to the bathing chamber. Thelia helped her carefully pour the water into the bath, Jasmine adding the oils, milk, and rare honeytwine flower petals. The flower was said to have originally come from Arcadia, the land of the gods. If the legend was true, they were one of the last relics of an age quickly fading into the past.
Mona and Jasmen helped Princess Cion out of her silken robe and into the bath. Soren, who always washed the princess’hair, poured soap from a glass bottle into her hand before gently massaging it into Princess Cion’s scalp.
“I want you all to know,” Princess Cion began, tilting her head back, “I am alright. I know last night may have frightened you. It frightened me too. But I refuse to be afraid.”
“Will you still ride?” Thelia blurted out. “Now that you’re Aren’s heir?”
Mona shot her sharp look, but Princess Cion only sighed heavily. “I will. The prophecy said I must, and even my father cannot deny such a hand of fate. I will likely serve my duty in the war effort and then return to take the throne when the time is right.”
“I see,” Thelia said. “Apologies, Your Highness, if I was too direct.”
Princess Cion chuckled. “Do not worry, Thelia. I’m not about to report you to my mother.”
Thelia bowed her head slightly in thanks, but Soren saw her hands shake before she could steady them.
“Princess,” Soren began quietly. “Should we keep word of your relationship with Lady Anabeth discreet as of now?”
Again, the princess sighed. “For now. And Soren,” she turned, water dripping from her now-rinsed hair, “my Choosing ceremony is in a week. It will occur, even with my brother’s passing, and I’d like you to attend to me as we travel to the temple and afterwards.”
Soren blinked. “You… Do you mean to say you would like me to stay with you once you enlist and begin your service?”
“If that’s alright?” Princess Cion said, raising a brow.
Soren cleared her throat. “Of course, Your Highness. I serve you wherever you wish to go. I am just surprised is all. Honored, but surprised.”
Princess Cion twisted back around in the bath and reached for a bar of honey-lemon soap, this time speaking to them all.“I value all your aid and the work you do for me. I hope there are no hard feelings amongst you given my choice for Soren to come with me. I will be back someday, and then soon, you will be serving not just a princess, but a queen.”
Mona, Thelia, and Jasmen all smiled and bowed their heads, but Soren could see the envy in Thelia and Jasmen’s eyes. Mona, on the other hand, looked like she was concealing poorly hidden relief. Soren thought she knew why.
She had been chosen to aid the princess while she fulfilled her duty as a rider, fighting for Aren. She would have to be close to Misean soldiers. She might even have to stand by and watch them die, and, if needed, she would be required to protect the princess from them.
Heaviness already weighed on her at the task ahead.
Princess Cion finished washing, and then they helped her into a heavy, midnight-black mourning dress, the fabric so different from her usual wear. The thickness of the material was an Arenean tradition—a cage to keep sorrow in the body and a shield to ward off spirits as they passed.
Soren affixed a veil in front of the princess’ face, Lady Anabeth watching closely from her seat by the vanity.
