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The blue-and-green-checkered skirt of Orlaigh’s dress flowed with the motion as she turned back, a small jug clasped between hands, and sat beside me. “Stew’s gone cold, but the bread’s fresh. First, have a good swallow of this.”
Smooth pottery pressed against my chapped lips, and cool water sloshed against my puckered gums before it gulped down a narrow throat. The water hit my stomach like a boulder, but I emptied it all.
“Yer stench is rotten, and that means something coming from a corpse.” When she caught me staring at her, she lifted a bushy brow. “Wary around corpses?”
Only if they suddenly asked questions. “How come you move? Talk?”
“The Master had me soul bound to me body.” A hint of dismay lingered in the undertone of her voice. “My thoughts are me own, but me body moves freely only if he wills it. Ach, he chases me poor bones across court as lordly as any man. Fifty-two years cleaning up after little lords and ladies; all of eternity cleaning up after him.”
A cramp squeezed my stomach just thinking about the King. “Is it true what some say about him?”
“They say many things in many places.”
“He’s hundreds of years old?”
A low grunt resonated from her chest. “Older.”
“He doesn’t look a hair past thirty.” A man in his prime, the memory of how easily he’d lifted me still fresh in my memory, no matter how fogged. “Where does he come from? Why did he curse our lands?”
“Never speak of it, lass.” The woman placed the empty jar on the ledge before she pulled back layers of furs, exposing me to the biting chill of the room. “Cleaned ye up as well as I could, but what ye need is a good washin’, lass. Up with ye!”
“It’s as cold as winter. Is there no—”
“No fire. Never fire.” The short, plump woman offered her hand, her skin void of those black veins she’d had when I’d arrived. “Dinnae bring it up with the Master or you’ll put him in a foul mood that’ll last for decades.”
Interesting.
I breathed against the tension in my muscles, fighting the urge to run. King or not, I had no interest in serving him—least of all for eternity. But running with no notion about where I was or how I could get back home…?
A fool’s errand.
I took Orlaigh’s hand and rose, using my other to cover myself in a poor attempt at modesty. “What is this room?”
“Master’s made it just for ye.”
“Made? Whatever does that mean?”
Orlaigh waved her hand toward the alabaster vessel standing across. “Go on! Climb in.”
My naked soles slapped over to a tub not made of wood like in the bathhouse back home, but the same material as everything else in this room, this kingdom. Shaky fingers brushed along the elegantly rounded edge, smooth against my skin, save for the occasional chaffing of pin-sized holes.
Steam billowed on the surface of the water when I dipped my toe into the tub, and I immediately pulled back. “It’s gone cold.”
Orlaigh dived a hand into the water. “Feels warm enough to me, but I reckon a cold body is a poor judge.” She turned toward a set of white carved doors at the end of the scarce room. “Best we call me Master—”
I gripped the edge of the tub once more and climbed in. “I’d rather freeze than face him.” Taking a deep breath, I let myself sink to the bottom, arm draped over my breasts. “If you hand me soap, I’ll wash.”
Orlaigh retrieved a white bar of curd soap from the ledge but returned with a shake of her head. “Yer back’s covered in barely closed wounds. They’ll fester, awright. Mending flesh takes me Master great effort. Now dunk yer head and wet yer hair.”
I did as I was told and let myself slip along the tub until my head submerged, fingers tousling through the tattered nest of hair. The moment I sat up, shivering, Orlaigh rubbed the bar over my scalp.
“What was the white room where you found me?” If I made it there, I might make it out. “My mule dragged me through an arch and down a dark passage.”
“The throne room.”
“Is it, um… is it far from here?” When Orlaigh’s movements slowed, I added, “If you take me there, I’d like to thank your master for healing my wounds.”
“Hear me, lass, there’s no outrunning me Master. Not forever.” The woman’s freezing hand sent a chill through me as she tugged my shoulder to lean me back against the edge. “Corridor’s cramped with corpses.”
