My cheeks betray me, heating with the mere mention of Kane. “It’s…complicated.”
“Complicated?” Marion arches her brow. “Or perhaps a love match?”
“I don’t love him!” I sputter, my words tumbling out in a flurry. “I mean, there’s definitely an attraction, but it hasnothingto do with love.”
“Love or not, you must be happy to have Ashwood to warm the other side of your bed.”
My embarrassment spreads down my neck. “I suppose heisnice to look at.”
“Nice to look at? Hannah, the man is practically a god. He puts Highgate to shame. Although our golden-haired King Lockhart could compete with Ashwood as far as looks are concerned. That is, if blonds are your thing. I can’t say they do much for me.”
The young attendant noiselessly appears from the dressing room and clears her throat. “If you’re ready, my lady…”
“And this is where I take my leave.” Marion sighs. “If McDougall hasn’t done so already, I’ll be sure we’re seated next to each other at dinner. I should hate for you to go all evening without knowing absolutely everything there is to know about absolutely everyone.”
“Thanks, Marion. I would have been completely lost without you.” Since arriving at the palace, nothing has gone according to plan, but meeting Marion is the one thing I wouldn’t change.
“I should be thanking you, Hannah. It’s been years since I’ve had so much fun.” Marion smiles, her curls bouncing as she heads to the door. “And I’m serious about the pomegranates.” She pauses, a playful smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. “Eat them while you still have a chance. As soon as Lady Whitmore discovers they’ve ripened, they’ll be gone.”
As the door closes behind the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in this strange new realm—honestly, the closest thing I’ve had to a friend inanyrealm recently—I swallow, anticipation knotting in my chest. I nod and take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever comes next in preparing for a royal feast.
* * *
The attendant and her assistant escort me to the dressing room that serves as an antechamber from the expansive bedroom to the massive bathroom. They undress me, and cool air brushes against my bare skin, bringing goose bumps to my arms as I try to disguise my discomfort and pretend that I’m 100 percent used to and okay with requiring help to get out of my clothes.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice tight while I hide my gold scar and the evidence of Kane’s magick as the young assistant helps me into a soft robe.
“Think nothing of it, my lady,” the maid replies as she leads me to sit down in front of a mirror and dressing table.
I glance at my reflection, my attention drawn to the dark circles beneath my eyes and the frizzy strands of hair framing my face. “I’m a mess,” I mumble, my shoulders slumping.
“Not true, my lady,” the maid offers. “Perhaps this isn’t my lady’s most sparkling or glamorous season, but that doesn’t mean my lady is a mess. This is different from what my lady is used to, and in its own way, change is beautiful.”
“That’s really nice.” A genuine smile tilts my lips.
Her hand brushes my shoulder, light and reassuring. “You’ll be ready for the feast soon, my lady. One step at a time.”
I nod, my hands clasped tight in my lap. “One step at a time,” I echo. I take another breath, forcing the tension from my shoulders. This realm is different, odd, but in its own way, it’s beautiful too.
“Now, this might be a bit uncomfortable.” She wields the brush like a weapon and attacks my locks. The tugand pull sends tingles across my scalp as she detangles and smooths my tresses.
She opens a few vials and waves each under her nose. The scent of lavender fills the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of jasmine, each note a whisper of the splendor of the palace gardens. She dabs a few drops of oil into her palm and combs her fingers through my hair.
The brush glides through my soft, shiny strands as her deft hands gather them into three sections. I sit as still as possible while she weaves an intricate braid down my back that brushes between my shoulder blades like a silk rope. When she’s finished, the maid gathers the remaining length and wraps it into a tight bun that looks like a rosebud secured with pearl hairpins at the nape of my neck.
The maid retreats into the bedroom, leaving me in the quiet luxury of the space. Tendrils of warmth seep in from the bathroom, and fog streaks the mirror. I glance over my shoulder into the bathroom at the steaming copper tub, its sides glistening in the candlelight. The assistant tends to the bath, emptying a final bucket of hot water before scattering lavender flowers across the surface.
“My lady, your bath is ready.” She approaches with a respectful nod, and I stand while she helps me out of my robe.
My hand in hers, she guides me to the steaming water and steadies me as I step into the tub. I let out a sigh as the warmth envelops me, and the steam curls, misting my face as I sink into the bath.
The lead maid returns with the bowl of sliced pomegranates and a goblet of red wine. She places thescarlet fruit and the crystal glass on the stand beside the bath as her assistant flits across the room to hang my robe and stack a pile of fluffy towels on the bench against the far wall.
“If my lady does not require anything else…” The attendant collects the empty bucket and tucks a strand of steam-dampened hair behind her ear.
“I am the most relaxed I’ve ever been,” I say, leaning against the tub’s high back.
“Very good,” the lead maid says with a slight curtsy. “I shall return before the bath has cooled to help my lady dress for dinner.”
