I awoke to the feeling of warmth and light on my eyelids. Groggily, I opened my eyes and found myself looking out of a row of tall windows with sunlight streaming through them. Dust motes danced in the morning sun as I blearily stretched my body. The stretching awoke a few bruises and pains, which brought back the memories of everything that had happened to me yesterday. To hide from the horror of these thoughts I pulled my quilt back over my head, creating a dark cave that was mine, and only mine.
I had slept in the green velvet gown, for lack of more suitable options. It was now creased and a bit rumpled from my tossing and turning, but still felt and looked luxurious and soft. I could not help but reflect how I used to sleep in my aunt's old shifts when there had been no money to buy me a night gown. The shifts had been stiff and oversized on me. In contrast my green gown felt like a second skin. Wearing it in a warm, soft bed put me in a mood I had never experienced before. I already felt sinful, having slept until well past sunup, and the richness of the sheets and dress only increased my feeling of being wicked. It was not an entirely shameful feeling though, either, I felt mischievous and more than a bit resentful thinking of my aunt and the harsh regimen she imposed on my everyday.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, getting louder as they approached my door. My heart went from a groggy waltz to a frantic gallop. I was stupid to be enjoying this bed and thinking unworthy thoughts about my aunt, who had taken me in after the pox had killed my mother and my father left. She had kept me clothed, and safe, two things that were far from a guarantee in this castle I had found myself in. I gathered the blankets up near my neck as I heart the lock clicking, and my door swung open. To my relief, a girl stood there, wearing a serving habit, and holding a heavily laden tray. A male guard stood near the door, clearly having unlocked it for her, but did not seem to be showing undue interest in me.
"Good morning Madame," the serving girl's eyes were respectfully downcast as she put the tray on the small bedside table. "I am told you are to eat your breakfast and then the tailors will be in soon to get you clothed," She curtsied and started to leave. At the door, however, she paused, and looked me in the face. "And Madame, make sure that you eat, he hates it when they are too skinny."
She left, and the guard locked the door behind her, without much acknowledging either of us. I was left alone in the room. I felt like a brooch in a jewelry box, surrounded by finery and waiting for my owner to take me out and play with me. The thought sent a shiver through my abdomen and into my nether regions. I shook my shoulders to rid me of the heady thoughts that came flooding in, and I lifted the silver lid off of my breakfast tray. The last time I had eaten was some bread and cheese in the carriage ride to the castle, maybe as long as a whole day ago. My stomach did cartwheels at the sumptuous spread laid out before me. The biggest plate held a pile of steaming eggs and four rashers of thick bacon. Three small plates held pastries that had their dough weaved into complicated, delicate patterns. The smell of chocolate, cinnamon and vanilla assailed my palette, making me dizzy from hunger. The last dishes on the tray held small portions of plum colored berries, and a rich cup of milk.
The serving girl's advice still rang in my ears, and I stopped my hand as I started reaching for the bacon. Perhaps I should refuse the food, become small and sickly, and I would be allowed to return home. But I could not tell which prospect frightened me more, the Lord Kavan finding me alluring, or him being disappointed and displeased with me. In the end my stomach made the decision for me, and I tucked in savagely. I had never had flour so fine as that in the pastries, and I could have wept at the delight of the many tastes.
Soon the food was all gone and the guard was letting in another serving woman. She was carrying a pile of fluffy white towels and a blue silk robe, embroidered with tiny sapphire falcons. "Get up and we bathe," she intoned with a heavy northern accent. I scrambled out of the bed, embarrassed by still being in bed at this late hour. She did not even seem to note my disheveled appearance as she led me into an adjoining washroom. A tub was already filled with steaming water, and a rainbow of carved soaps was laid out on the side board. "You get in, I do hair." I slowly lowered myself into the tub, letting my body get used to the heat slowly. I was worried this woman would see the hand-print that Gareth had left on my thigh, or notice how pink and swollen my nipples were from yesterday's rough handling. She, however, only paid attention to her task, which seemed to be emptying endless bottles of liquid onto my mass of hair.
I managed to relax, soothed by the hot water and the feeling of being tended to. I was used to bathing in front of woman from my village, as there was only one part of the stream that was properly suited to the task. I had tended to avoid the other women when I could, however, because of the envious, borderline venomous looks my form received from them. They would run their eyes over my full breasts and small waist and scowl, calling me a whore under their breath. My eyes pricked with tears now, thinking that these cruel women finally were being proven right about me. I was being used as a whore and doing nothing to stop it.
But what could I do? I shuddered to think of how large, muscled, and martial all of the men I had encountered so far had been. I could not fight, not if I wanted to stay in one piece. And if I ran, what then? What did I have to go back to? I would be doing the bidding of my aunt, waiting on tenterhooks for my uncle to find an old man of some means to marry me to. My uncle had seemed determined to wring every last coin he could out of my beauty, but in our region and in our standing, the best I could hope for would be a sow farmer. Even if I escaped from this castle I would still be sold off like chattel by my uncle, and without my verifiable virginity, even that was not a guarantee anymore.
The servant had finished brushing out my hair into a straight, silky curtain, and let it slip into the tub to rinse. She then continued on to filing my nails to gleaming crescents, and to my mortification, trimming the curly hair that grew between my legs. I was luxuriating in the softness of the thick towels she was using to dry me, when I again heard metal-clad shoes coming down the hall. Eyes wide, I found myself trying to cover my naked body with my arms as the foot steps sounded closer. "Milady, de robe." The woman helped me into the sleek blue silk garment, which while it covered my skin, did nothing to hide my shape. She then propelled me back into the small bed chamber I had slept in, scurrying away to leave me to face the three men there on my own.
One, I recognized as my door guard, another was also clearly a member of the Castle guard, but was older, with a shock of white hair. The third, causing an eruption of butterfly wings in my stomach, was Gareth. Despite the late hour he kept the night before he looked calm, composed and regal. Even his beard looked tended to. I could not look at him, so instead looked down, seeing to my dismay, my nipples standing erect in the cool air. I could cross my arms, but I was terrified of showing bad manners in front of these men. I was sure that given the slightest excuse they would start treating me like the low-born wench that I was and I would not get the safety that would be allowed to me as a wife of Kavan.
