“Who did this to you?” she asked, stepping closer. Her fingers caught my chin and tilted my head. Exposing the worst damage to the light.
“Depends who you ask, but most people would tell you I fell,” I shrug, that quick sharp tongue of mine rearing its head, to cover up howuncomfortable it felt to have someone stare so intently at my marred skin.
She blinked, her composure slipping from her face. The guards stiffened beside me, like me, expecting punishment to follow my insolence. I resisted the urge to grin at them.
“You may leave us,” the elf said at last, her voice steadying.
“Are you certain? She looks as though she may bite,” one of the guards muttered.
“I do not bite,” I said, turning my head just enough to meet his narrowed gaze. Having to tilt my head upwards to maintain eye contact, “Unless provoked.”
A small smile ghosted across the elves' lips. The guards looked nervously amongst themselves. Clearly considering gagging me anyway. However, after a moment, they obeyed, stepping out and shutting the doors with a heavy thud.
Silence settled within the room. Only the whisper of slippers against stone as she circled me slowly, studying me as if I was an art project she was about to begin.
“If you are planning to buy me, I would advise against it. I have a terrible attitude, and I imagine The King makes his possessions very expensive,” I said, my eyes following her every step.
“I have no desire to purchase you human. My name is Penny. I am to be your attendant.” She replied with a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but the way she said‘human’made it abundantly clear it was not meant as a compliment.
“Is attendant the word they use for you watching over me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest watching her through my eyelashes.
Elves had a reputation for being deceitful. They would convince you that you could trust them, before they drove a blade straight between your ribs. They were above humans like me, but sat beneath the Fae in the hierarchy of Vaetharyn. Servants rather than slaves, paid for their labour, but never permitted to forget their place.
“I am here to ensure you survive. To dress you, prepare you. To make certain you understand the expectations that come alongside your place here.” She said, testing the temperature of the bath water with slender fingers.
“What do you get out of it?” I ask, raising my eyebrow as I watch her shake the droplets of water off into the air. I knew how this would work, she would not have been asked to do this for nothing. There was no way an elf would do anything, especially not something with humans involved, for free.
“Your clothes will need to be removed, they are filthy, infested and unfit for the Eastern wing,” she muses, with her back to me. Ignoring my question with obvious intent. Whatever she was getting out of this arrangement was clearly not up for discussion, especially with me.
“I’ve worn worse,” I said, my eyes rolling to one side. Although she had been right, I was filthy, and I could not honestly remember the last time I had felt truly clean.
“I can tell,” she muttered, her gaze moving up and down once more, the judgement once again clear. Taking in the dirt, blood and bruises.
“Fine, but I am not stripping in front of you,” I told her firmly, finally uncrossing my arms. My body was a road map of bruises and scars. She had already shown me pity once. I did not need to see it again.
“You are a slave, human. Modesty is a luxury you no longer possess,” Penny laughed mockingly, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. From her stance I knew she would be more than happy to argue with me, until the bath water ran cold.
“I have a name. It's Elara,” I snapped, tired of hearing her spit the word human as if it would burn the inside of her mouth. Although the retort sounded childish even to my own ears.
For a heartbeat, something shifted in her expression. Recognition, perhaps. As though she had remembered I was not just a task for her to complete. I was a living being who still had a soul.
“Turn around, Elara, I will help you,” Penny sighed, walking across the room towards me. Her eyes talking on a kinder look, not by much, but it was still something.
I hesitate, just for a second. Not from shame or modesty, that had been torn from me long ago. I knew turning my back to anyone felt like placing a blade in their hand. Giving someone your back gave them an opportunity to stick a knife in it, or worse.
Penny’s hands lay on my shoulders, light, like a breath as she turned me. Her fingers worked onthe fabric, undoing the ties and knots as the cloth fell away from my body.
Cold air kissed my bruised skin, goosebumps rose like a second layer over my scars. I did not want her pity, but I could not stop it from being given. I felt her hands pull away and a soft gasp escape her lips.
“I know, scars, bruises, a whole tragic tapestry,” I said, refusing to look her in the eye as I turned back to face her. Kicking at the dress as if it had personally wronged me. The fabric slid across the stone as I raised my hands to cover my breasts.
“This is not normal,” she whispered, stepping back allowing me to remove my own underwear, perhaps deciding that was a step too far.
“It is for me,” I said, keeping my tone flat as I used one hand to pull the fabric down between my legs. Discarding it in the pile that had once been my dress.
Penny had warned me that the water had been infused with moon silver, and given my cuts and bruises it would sting slightly.
Sting was a drastic understatement.
