“Would you like me to help you undress?” Lucille asked.
Nin froze. “You want me to take off… my clothes?”
“Yes—unless you wish to bathe in them.”
Nin crossed her arms. “You’re quite blunt for a servant. I thought you were supposed to treat me like a princess?”
“I am. The princess bathes,” Lucille said evenly. “And in this case, we’re fixingyouup. So be a dearand follow orders.”
Despite the woman’s curtness, Nin couldn’t help but grin. She liked the dry humor laced within Lucille’s instructions. Still, she had never undressed before anyone, and it had been far too long since she had taken a proper bath. Instead, she and her brother would often use a rag and boiled water to quickly wipe the areas that needed it most. The other parts of her body were often neglected because they rationed water for cooking, drinking, and other necessities. Embarrassment prickled her skin at the thought of exposing herself.
Lucille must have sensed her hesitation, because her dark eyes softened. “It’s all right. We are women here. I will not judge. I am here to help you.”
The gentleness in her tone unraveled some of the unease festering in her stomach. Finally, Nin removed one layer of clothing, then another, until she slipped into the water. The heat wrapped her in an unexpected embrace. She forgot baths were meant to be warm, and for a blissful moment, her stiff shoulders sank in reprieve. In the candlelight, the clear surface shifted into a murky color faster than she expected. Blood rose to her cheeks. How much dirt and grime was on her? She didn’t want to know, let alone think about it, but Lucille made no mention of her filth, nor gave any indication that it bothered her.
The chambermaid simply reached in and pulled on a golden chain at the head of the tub. Dirty water swirled down a drain, and Nin wished she could also plunge herself into its depths. Her hands flew to her face, avoiding the maid's eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” Lucille said, grabbing a bucket and disappearing out the door.
Nin groaned under her breath. It would likely take more than an hour just to fill this tub with one person, especially to heat the water. Why had Lucille left her exposed and shivering?
As the minutes ticked on, she found herself staring at the drain, wondering how such a mechanism worked and where the water led. But her thoughts were interrupted when Lucille opened the door. Nin’s arms flew over her chest, her brows furrowing at how fast the woman had returned. The water couldn't possibly heat this fast. Had they expected her to need another refill of the tub?
“Mind your feet,” Lucille said. Another wave of humiliation washed over as the chambermaid poured the water at the end of the tub.
Nin yelped as cold water splashed against her ankles, and the unexpected iciness prickled through her bones.
“Ah—!”
Then, her protest was swallowed into a stunned gape as the water warmed and flowed around her, rising to heights not capable of being filled by a single bucket. Her head swung to both sides of the tub, unable to understand how it was already past her chest.
Her rounded eyes met Lucille’s amused smirk. “How is this possible?”
“The tub has been crafted to fill to the appropriate height and keep the water at the perfect temperature. So do not worry about it going cold,” Lucille said lightly—too nonchalant for the miracle unfolding before her.
Lucille caught her bewildered expression and continued, “It was commissioned byan Artisan.”
So, this was one of the magic-imbued luxuries hidden within the palace? Nin had heard of Artisans who crafted items with the Maker’s Breath, enchanting them with special abilities. Only the affluent could afford such luxuries.
What other enchantments would she discover here?
“Give me your hand,” Lucille ordered, wielding a sudsy sponge.
Reluctantly, Nin obeyed. “Do you have to scrubeverysingle inch of me?”
“Yes,” Lucille said. “Every single inch.”
Nin grumbled under her breath, though the water’s heat continued to sink into her skin and silence her complaints. Lucille washed her with methodical, gentle hands, taking her time with each finger and limb. It unsettled Nin how much her body relaxed into the water, how her breaths slowed, and her eyes closed.
She didn’t know what to do with this kind of comfort—one that could disarm her so completely.
When Lucille turned to her hair, Nin winced. “Ow!”
“Well, if your hair weren’t a bird’s nest,” Lucille said mildly, “this would be simpler.”
Despite her words, Lucille gingerly worked through every matted snarl, careful to undo each without tugging on her scalp. When every part of her had been washed, scrubbed, and oiled, Nin emerged dripping wet. A plush towel—one of the softest things her skin had touched—was cocooned around her, and Lucille quickly dried her hairbefore dressing her in a silky robe.
“Let’s get you dressed for bed,” Lucille told her as she strode out of the washroom.
