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“That depends on you. If you do as I say she will see a proper burial. If not…” He held out his hands as if the matter was out of his control.
Her own body felt heavy as she warred with herself. Cara deserved a proper burial, but more than that, she deserved to live. It should have been Wren. Wren should have been the one that grabbed that sword, but she had always been too slow. Too focused on logic to act.
“Okay.” She choked out the traitorous word. She was a coward and her friend was dead because of it.
Setting her head to rest against Cara’s cool forehead, she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Cara. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Hands tore Cara away from her and the guttural cry she let loose sounded foreign to her ears.
The roaring in her ears was all she focused on as she walked through stone gates and foreign halls. When they came to a door, the man stopped holding a hand out to her. Wren’s body ceased its movement at the command. Everything felt strange as if her body were not her own. As if proving she was a liar once more, she lurched forward as she realized the guard holding Cara’s lifeless form was continuing down the hall. A sword at her neck was all that stopped her from running after her friend.
“Her body will be prepared. Should you be obedient tonight you will be permitted to bury your friend.”
Fresh tears fell down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to assent, but it was nothing more than air. It felt as if the life she knew had happened to someone else and all she was made of was Cara’s death.
She was shoved into a room with deep green walls the color of infinite forests. Candles flickered around the room revealing two women in dull gray dresses, their hair pulled back into tight low buns. The door shut behind her, lock clicking ominously.
As soon as the door was closed she threw herself at the two women, pleading despite her whispers, “Please help me, they killed—” The truth burned her throat. “Please help me.”
One of the women heaved a sigh and the other raised a single eyebrow before dragging her over to a tub full of water, pulling at her dress.
“What do you think you are doing?” Wren yelled, swatting them away.
The elder woman rolled her eyes and called out, “Leonid!”
In response, the lock clicked and the other soldier stepped into the room wearing a malevolent grin. She had hardly been aware of him on their way here, but then it had been hard to focus on anything.
“The Bishop has given express orders that if you should not comply, I am to inform him so he may maintain the rest of his promise to you.” The words were said as if they were some delightful secret shared between friends. From the mad look in his eyes, Wren was sure he was the type of man to take delight in carrying out his orders.
Wren felt a shiver run through her body and it was entirely possible she would be sick right there. Whatever Leonid saw in her made his face fall in what could only be described as disappointment. He wanted her to fight, but he should have known there was nothing left in her.
As soon as he left, the women began pulling at her dress again, and rage quickly overwhelmed her panic. “I will do it! May I not at least have that dignity?”
The women merely shrugged and stepped back, watching her carefully to make sure she did as she said she would.
Wren tugged off the wet, heavy dress and slowed only briefly when it came to her underclothes. When she hesitated, the older woman looked pointedly at the door and Wren could not bear to be seen by the sadistic guard’s leering face in her current state. Forcing her into the tub, the women began working on her, rubbing soap and oils on her that smelt like fresh lavender and sage. Under any other circumstance, this might have been a relaxing experience, but as it were she was painfully aware there was something sinister happening.
When the women finished washing her, they held out a robe, gesturing for her to climb out and into it. Without any explanation she was shoved into a chair where one woman began tugging on her hair and the other began working on her face with strange brushes. She had heard of women painting their faces to increase their beauty, but it did not make sense why they would be doing that to her now.
“Please tell me what is happening.” The words were dull and lifeless. The woman only shushed her while the one doing her hair tugged on her head so hard she cried out.
As tears fell no doubt leaving streaks on her painted face, Wren held still while the women finished their ministrations. When her hair was placed tightly against her head, and the other woman was satisfied with her face, they beckoned her to go to the other corner of the room where a remarkably beautiful gold-and-white dress hung.
Wren had never seen such an ornate and well-made dress before. One of the women pulled it down and the other yanked at Wren’s robe. She realized with a start they meant her to wear the dress.
“I don’t understand.” None of it made any sense as if it were all some chaotic dream.
The woman only pulled at her robe, causing it to fall from Wren’s shoulders. Painfully aware of her nakedness, she moved to cover herself. The woman who had taken off her robe, slapped away her hands and gave her a pair of fine, white satin underclothes.
Wren eagerly put them on, needing to cover herself from their eyes. When she was finished, one woman pulled a corset around her and tightened it to the point Wren’s already sore lungs screamed for more air. Her protests fell on deaf ears, and they held out the beautiful gown to her, urging her into it.
The sleeves came all the way to her wrists, and the bodice was tight against her chest and stomach. It had obviously been made for someone smaller and less endowed than herself. Everything felt tight against her, and the silk fabric fell easily around her.
The dress, though ornately done, was not puffy, but instead clung to her skin gradually moving away from it. She had the brief thought that if she walked, the indent of her legs would show against the dress.
One of the women went to knock on the door and the guard opened it up, moving his gaze slowly over her. She bristled at the liberty he took, but knew she could do nothing to provoke him. He gestured for her to leave the room and she obeyed despite the anxiety that rose in her chest telling her she should not be alone with this man.
He led her to an open door that gave way to a darkened room lit only with a few candles.
