Airlie notices my expression. “Some true emotion from you, finally. I'll have to tell Soren you don’t approve of our fashions. Perhaps that’s how he’ll torture information out of you—forcing you into a dress or two. To think, a filthy witch looking down her nose at the craftsmanship and skill of the high fae.”
A pained look crosses her face, and one of her hands slips down to rub her belly, the underside where the baby grows looking heavier by the day. As sharp as her words to me have been, there’s a pang of sympathy in my chest when the curse tightens around her until a small grunt ekes out from between her clenched teeth. The maids falter in their work and share another look, but the pain passes and the princess straightens once more, the tension carefully released as she gets back to her task as though she never stopped.
The doors open, and another servant walks in, an older female part-blood who is larger and broader than the rest. She looks formidable, and under her stern gaze, the other maids all lower their eyes, indicating she holds a position of power over the rest of them.
Airlie smiles at her warmly. “It’s good to see you, Firna. How fare things in the kitchens? I’m missing out on all the fun, thanks to Soren’s interference.”
I can’t make much sense of what she’s saying, but Firna simply moves the pile of clothes from the chair onto the floor and points at the seat. “You shouldn't be on your feet and you know it. I'll get you something to eat and a glass of water to tide you over.”
I’m expecting the same scathing reprimand I’ve been enduring, but the princess looks at the female with respect and affection. She laughs, the sound like tinkling bells and beautiful now that it's directed at someone she clearly likes.
Her cruelty towards me stems from a twisted mess of misdirected emotion, loyalty to her cousin, and the curse that haunts her every move. I regret some of my own sharp retorts. Not because I said anything that wasn’t true, but because there’s no good to come from pressing on someone’s wounds and then judging them when they lash out. I’ve made my fair share of terrible decisions while stuck in my own grief, and if this high-fae princess can smile softly and share confidences with those she holds power over, then I’ll work to keep my temper in check.
For now.
Taking the seat obediently, she says, “I swear you spend all your time trying to fatten me up. I'm not hungry, but I’ll sit because you asked me so nicely.”
The maids share a look between them, but Firna isn’t holding back, her words indifferent to the princess despite her royal station. “You're never hungry these days, Princess. You can't let the queasiness of the baby stop you from keeping you both fed and healthy. Sit and let me do this for you, or I’ll go straight to Prince Soren and see what he has to say about it.”
Airlie leans back in the chair and settles herself, her hand again resting over her belly, the baby clearly never far from her mind. As Firna steps back out of the room, she casts the princess a long look, one full of worry as her gaze traces over her. I follow it and find not only a swollen belly but ankles to match. Not always a danger, but something to watch out for.
I wonder if they know this?
As Firna’s gaze flicks over to land on me, her eyes harden, and all the leftover warmth leaves the room once more as another bucket of icy water gets dumped over my head.
* * *
The dress that I am poked and prodded into is too tight across my shoulders, and the skirts pool at my feet. It's made of a rough cotton, the weave of it itchy on my skin, and I want to rip it off my body and just forgo clothes altogether. I'm so uncomfortable that I want to scream, and yet I'm careful not to let the princess know how close to snapping I truly am.
She watches me with a careful eye as the maids force my feet into a pair of shoes that pinch my toes as they lace them up my ankles and over my calves.
This the real form of torture that the Savage Prince could use to break me.
I was forced to get used to wearing shoes every day in the Northern Lands, but after years of pain and suffering, I found a style I could cope with having on my feet, even if I never truly acclimated to wearing them. Give me dirt and moss under my bare toes any day of the week.
The restrictive heeled boots that the working class of the Unseelie high fae wear are far from tolerable.
My mind blanks out as I try to forget about my feet, to wipe the pain of their current existence from my consciousness altogether, and I have trouble following the maids' conversation as they talk amongst themselves.
It takes me a moment to process what they're saying.
“The scarring is terrible.”
“She's been tortured; the scars are in layers. Unless something…tried to tear her in half? Surely not.”
“A wound like that should’ve killed her. Whatever she did to deserve that must have been terrible.”
A cold sweat breaks out over my forehead, and I turn away from them abruptly, running my hands down my skirts in a nervous gesture.
The princess raises an eyebrow at me. “Parading around the castle covered in filth means nothing to you, and yet a few words about your ugly scars has you twitching? My, my, what an interesting nerve you’ve exposed to us.”
Ugly.
As though I could possibly care what my scars look like. As though it’s their opinion of them and not the source of them that has me feeling this way. Typical arrogant and shallow high fae, caring only for how they look in their stupid dresses and Fates-fucking-cursed shoes.
I swallow my reply, my resolve to remain indifferent to her seething attacks already sorely tested as I tuck my chin into my chest to avoid looking at her smug face. As I look down at the boots, I’m careful not to let my gaze linger for too long, but I do check to be sure my feet are covered with leather and laces and I haven’t been fitted with iron cages by mistake. I can't even wiggle my toes, which are restricted to the point of stinging pins and needles under the shoes.
“You have nothing else to say to me then? Nothing to say to any of us for helping you tidy up? Rhya and Lily worked hard to get you clean.”
