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Marcella makes a sound of disapproval. “That will not do. We’ll have to have a door or a gate put in front of those stairs to keep you safe.”
“Prince Titus is hardly going to be able to keep his hands off you,” says Kadene, who is openly admiring my naked body, despite my futile attempts to cover myself.
“Kadene!” snaps Marcella. “You’re speaking to the Princess!”
“It’s okay,” I say. “So, um, what is the protocol on that anyway? The touching part, I mean.”
“If you want to get technical,” says Kadene. “You’re not to be touched by anyone, including your groom-to-be until the wedding ceremony. If any male but Titus touches your skin, he has the right to a blood challenge or they will be thrown in the dungeons to rot.”
“That sounds a little extreme,” I say. “What is a blood challenge?” I ask.
“Kadene!” hisses Marcella, who this time sneaks a look at Niera.
I follow her eyes, and notice that Niera looks on the verge of crying, but she’s trying to hold herself together.
Kadene winces and mouths “sorry,” to Marcella.
After a few moments pass, Marcella leans close to me, speaking in a low whisper. “Niera’s parents were killed because of a blood challenge, which is how she wound up here working as a servant. A blood challenge is issued when certain laws are broken--justice isn’t met until blood has been drawn, but more often than not a blood challenge ends in death on one side.”
A chill runs through me. “Even if the touch is innocent?” I ask. “It still means all that?” My mind goes back to yesterday when Calian walked me into the palace. Surely he touched me at some point, didn’t he? What if someone saw and he’s in danger now?
“It’s a little more complicated than that. It is up to the promised groom to make issue of a touch. He is the ultimate judge of innocence or guilt. Among commoners or lesser nobles, a royal representative is brought in to arbitrate, but Prince Titus would not have to answer to anyone. He could challenge or jail any man who touched you if he wished.”
Like Roark. Even though Roark said he was going to issue the punishment to the guard, I’m beginning to think he wasn’t acting purely out of my best interests or his brothers. He definitely put his hands on me. Or did he? I can't even remember now. Maybe he only touched me through my clothes and with the paddle? But even so, we were behind closed doors and I’m sure if Titus wanted to lay an accusation against him, he would have a case.
“There’s no one he has to answer to? Even his older brother or the queen?” I ask.
“Well, I suppose Prince Roark and Queen Korinthia could intervene, but it would be an immensely insulting thing for them to do. I doubt Prince Titus would be on speaking terms with either of them after something like that.”
I shake my head, trying to take it all in. “So this is normal here? Blood challenges and people being thrown in the dungeon over minor crimes?”
Marcella clears her throat, neglecting to answer me because Niera is approaching to help lead me to the bath. These women treat me like I can’t walk on my own, but I have to admit it’s nice to be fussed over. I used to watch my mom fiddle with my sisters’ hair or worry over their small cuts with envy. I’d imagine what it would be like to be in their shoes instead of my own, where I was left to figure out hair styling for myself and to find my own bandages.
I want to like it here. In so many ways, this bizarre world is an answer to everything I’ve ever hoped or wished for. I’m important here. I’m looked after. I’m not ignored. I’m wanted. But then again, that’s also the problem. Everything seems to tell me that being wanted by Prince Titus is more curse than blessing.
The women lead me to the bathtub and hold my arms carefully as I step into the warm water.
“This water smells amazing,” I say.
Niera nods her head slightly, cheeks flushing. “I’m glad you like it,” she says quietly.
“Now,” says Marcella. “We need to dye your hair. Make yourself comfortable, Princess. This will take a bit.”I stand in front of a full length mirror, looking at a version of myself I never imagined I’d see. It’s like someone took the old me and made her more… just more. My hair is dyed platinum blonde and styled into curling ringlets that bounce with the slightest movement of my head. My makeup is done expertly to look like it’s not there at all, accenting my natural features. The green in my eyes pops against the new hair color, and they have me dressed in a slim, almost athletic dress that still manages to hold on to some of the elements of a regal dress while also feeling light and maneuverable. There are cute puffs of fabric that add a roundness and height to my shoulders. There’s the customary plunging neckline and an open back with crisscrossing straps. And though I haven’t seen anything but dresses that reach the ankle since coming here, this dress cuts off at mid-thigh and fits snugly.
