24
After donning the servant’suniform, I followed Madam Josephine to Narcissa’s chambers. It was a long route with too many twists and turns and staircases to count. By the time we arrived, my feet were aching. I surveyed the ornate rug and cushioned chairs, wishing I could sink into any one of them. Madam Josephine, however, executed a deep, steady curtsy.
“I have brought your maid as you instructed, milady.”
Narcissa didn’t bother turning around. She was seated before her vanity in an elaborate lace gown. Another maid was combing her hair. “You may leave, Josephine.”
“Yes, milady.”
I was almost sad when the woman exited, even when she shot me a glare.
“Amarante. I underestimated how much I enjoy seeing you like this.” Narcissa finally turned around. Her hair fell in silky auburn waves down her shoulders. “Kneel.”
I resented her a little more as I knelt.
“What are you going to do, Narcissa?” I asked warily.
The maid beside her gasped. “How dare you speak to Her Ladyship that way?”
“Karen is right.” Narcissa stood from her seat and glided toward me, her eyes narrowed. “You must remember you are nothing but a lowly servant now. When a servant addresses her mistress in such a way that servant is punished. Stick out your hand.”
I kept my hands firmly tucked behind my back.
Narcissa scoffed. “Still playing strong, are you? You heard Mother loud and clear last night. Serve me or be ruined.”
How could they threaten to slough their crimes onto me when they were the treasonous ones? I wanted to shout at her, but I didn’t. I would have to have a death wish. So I stuck out my left hand.
“You have the hand of a lady. How unfitting,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll have to change that. Bring me a needle, Karen.”
The maid rushed over with a pin cushion full of needles. They varied in length and width, but they were all undeniably sharp. My arm shook as Narcissa selected the thickest of the bunch. She admired the point for a second before pricking the back of my hand and scraping it across my skin.
I cried out. Beads of blood pooled up in the needle’s wake. It wasn’t until I blinked back my tears did I realize she had written something.
NW.Her initials.
Narcissa stuck the needle back into the cushion and wiped her fingers on the handkerchief Karen offered her. “Now it’ll be easier to remember I own you.”
I clutched my throbbing hand to my dress, staining the fabric. She had carved her initials on me like she would on a wooden doll! “You’redemented,”I spat out.
