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Slowly, so slowly, I angled myself toward the mirror and gasped. My eyes were hollow and my features gaunt, but that wasn’t a surprise. I had never been beautiful. I’d made peace with that. What I couldn’t reconcile was the way my upper body looked like it had been tattooed in shimmering ink. When I glimpsed the scars before, they had looked light beige, but now I saw the glittery gold between each of the lines in the sunlight. Like a broken bowl, glued back together with precious metals.
The jagged lines above my collarbone weren’t just unskilled knife work. I took a step closer, entranced by the wobbly circle. The faces were always covered, so I couldn’t remember exactly who had drawn this, but it was a crude image of a woman wearing a crown.
Her head was on the ground, detached from her body.
I started shaking and covered the stretch of skin with my hand. Turning away from the mirror, I practically jumped into the shower.
Even warm water couldn’t erase the chill that permeated deep in my bones. What kind of person would leave something like that on someone’s skin?
It would be there forever, unless I sliced away the section. It was a violent thought, and I flinched as I started scrubbing soap into my hair and took mental note of the kinds of clothing I would need to wear until I could solve this new problem.
Long sleeves and high necks wouldn’t be hard during the winter, and I could figure this out closer to the summer.
I was rinsing the soap off of my shoulders when I thought of Isaac. If we were married, he would see me naked at some point. I swallowed and watched my arms and stomach. He would see the scars. I washed my arms again.
Maybe he would like to give me a few scars of his own.
I pressed my whole body against the cold shower wall and took several deep breaths in succession. I glanced at the pocket in the wall where the soap was, and saw one of the razors used for removing body hair. After hesitating, I picked it up.
If I could break one of the razors, it could slice into my skin. The pain wouldn’t last that long.
My hand started shaking harder, and I dropped it with a loud bang and leapt back as if it were a snake. I shook my head and kicked it out of the way before finishing my shower.
After wiping down my body with a towel, I put my hair up and slipped into a robe before returning to my room. Isolda was waiting by a vanity with a stool, and she gestured to a privacy screen where a simple white and gold outfit was hanging.
I nodded, and we walked to the area. Underwear, a brassiere, and dress socks were neatly folded on a small, gilded table. I avoiding focusing on my arms while pulling them on, and then pulled out the outfit. The cloth was soft, and so warm. It made me think of the Guardia’s special clothing, designed to keep one warm in even the most brutal temperatures.
The neckline ended around my throat, and I was sure that it covered enough that I wouldn’t have to worry. The rest of my dressing was quick work, and I made my way out from behind the partition.
Isolda was still waiting for me, so I went to the stool and sat down. With gentle hands, she unwrapped my locks and picked up a brush. It took her no time to get to work taming and twisting my locks. The result was a damp updo, but it looked very nice with the outfit.
Even with the high fabric, a golden squiggle still peaked out from under my collar, and I tugged it up insecurely.
Once finished, she smiled at me and patted my shoulder.
“Lista.”
My skin tingled where she touched me. She had never been… so gentle with me. For a second, I wondered why she was being kind, but I quickly decided I didn’t care.
I stood up, said a quick thank you, and exited into the hallway.
The hallway overlooked a large sitting room with a crystal chandelier and a gorgeous grand piano. Unsurprisingly, there were several bookcases stuffed full. Sitting on one of the shelves was a book that I had seen in Rosa de Oro, a book about Blood Magic. I wondered if I would have time to read it when Javier came to my side and asked, “Ready to go see Señor Castillas?”
I nodded, and off we went. Nerves blurred most of the details of the house. As we approached the door I recognized from yesterday, I hesitated.
Was I going to cry? Would he yell?
Javier knocked on the door.
No answer.
Strange, Antonio was incredibly prompt.
After another knock, and a few more minutes of waiting, I turned around and started walking back to the open balcony. “If he wants me, tell him to find me in the sitting room.”
Javier trailed behind me anyway, and I smiled a little. If he wanted to tag along, I wouldn’t mind.
All these friendly faces were spoiling me.
