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Emma offered her hand. “Come. Let me help you.”
“I would rather freeze to death than let you touch me again.” Ruby glared at the woman.
“Stubborn wench,” Eva muttered as she passed by to fetch the linens from the servant lingering by the door.
Emma backed away and busied herself with tidying the bed.
Ruby grimaced at the bloodstains on the bed linens and turned away. It would do her no good to dwell upon it. She could grieve in her own time, but her survival lay in her recovery. One step at a time.
With great effort, she released the bedpost and took a long moment to find her balance. Pride filled her at the accomplishment. Her legs wobbled as she took a tentative step toward the bath. Then another. She put her arms out to balance, reaching for the tub as she made slow progress.
When she reached her goal, her heart nearly burst. Such a small victory, but for the first time in ages, Ruby felt hopeful. She gripped the side of the tub and slowly stepped into the steaming water.
The scent of rosemary and lavender brought memories of home to the forefront of her mind like the reflective surface of a lake. She lowered herself into the water and sighed with contentment as the warmth sank beneath her skin.
Her hands skimmed over her arms and legs under the water. The bruises had faded from purple to yellow. The heat of the water eased any lingering soreness. She retrieved the cloth from the edge of the tub and dipped it in the water. Running it over her shoulders and chest, Ruby savored the rasp of the cloth on her skin scrubbing the events of the past several days from her exhausted body.
Emma busied herself with the linens on the bed while Eva retrieved garments from the tall wardrobe in the corner.
While remaining aware of their presence, Ruby tried not to dwell on them instead focusing on absorbing the restorative properties of the herbal bath. Her mother would have encouraged her to add some calendula and dandelion.
The mere thought of her mother brought tears to her eyes. She swiped them away before they could manifest fully. This would not be the end. She would see her mother again. And Crispin. A stirring persistence settled around her heart.
Ruby bathed in silence. She protested only briefly when Emma offered to wash her hair. Lifting her arms to do so herself proved too exhausting at the moment, so she relented.
Emma used fresh water to rinse the soap from her hair. She used scented oils to loosen any remaining tangles before rinsing it again.
Ruby’s hand rested over her swollen stomach. A tear slipped free at the thought of the life no longer growing inside her. She allowed herself a silent moment of contemplation while Emma finished her ministrations.
“Come, pet, before the water grows cold.” The old woman nudged her shoulder.
With trembling hands, Ruby gripped the side of the tub and lifted herself from the water. A fire burned in the hearth, but it did nothing to stop the chill from sinking into her the moment she left the warm embrace of the water. She shivered, and Emma rushed forward with clean linens to dry her.
Exhausted, Ruby decided not to fight against the woman’s aid. Her gaze fell on the bed where a lovely kirtle and overskirt lay waiting. The rich hues of scarlet and blue were interlaced with gold stitching. She recognized the colors Francis chose for his own doublet and shivered again, but this time it was not from the cold.
“Worry not. All will be well, pet.” Emma’s poor attempt to soothe her intensified the foreboding air gathering around the keep like an impending storm.
With both women working to draw the clean garments over her head, the process took very little time. As much as she detested the idea of wearing his colors, the clothes provided warmth and modesty. Two things she valued with an acute awareness after Francis stole her from her sanctuary.
Eva instructed the servants to remove the bath and retreated with the soiled linens while Emma led Ruby to a seat beside the fire. With firm but gentle strokes, she brushed her hair, allowing it to dry as she worked.
The rhythmic ministrations lulled her into a peaceful repose. After a few minutes, Ruby could no longer remain silent.
“Why go to this trouble?” Ruby asked the woman braiding her hair.
“My lord wishes for you to join him. He has a gift for you.”
Fear clutched her throat and squeezed. A gift. Ruby wished for nothing from him but her freedom as well as Henry’s. There could be nothing he could possibly offer that would heal the wound he caused and allowed to fester into a seething hatred. He could draw his own blade across his throat and it would not sate her need for vengeance. The only gift he could bestow upon her that would bring her joy would be his slow, painful, agonizing death and disintegration into obscurity.
A gift from Francis would bring her no joy, of that she was certain.
Emma finished braiding her hair and pinning it into place. Eva returned and set a pair of leather slippers on the floor at Ruby’s feet.
“He demands your presence.” Eva sniffed with indignance and stepped aside. “Come along.”
Ruby rose from her seat slowly. Once she found her balance, she squared her shoulders and took a bold step. She would face him, but she would not bow to him. One thing she would never do again was underestimate Francis. He might have played the part of a pious monk, but he was nothing short of a wicked incarnation of evil sent to plague Meradin.
What she knew of his reputation before the fire played at odds with the man who now held her captive. Almost as though his soul spit between darkness and light allowing the dark to consume him completely. Nothing about his radical transformation made any logical sense. He played them all for fools, and now they suffered the consequences of their ignorance.
