“A bath would be lovely. I've had a long journey,” I agreed, “but only if it's not too much trouble.”
The woman looked stunned, her mouth falling open for a second, but she snapped it shut an instant later and gave me a smile. “No trouble at all.”
I had no idea what to do with myself as I watched the three women dash around my bedchamber. I was so used to doing the work that it was almost impossible to not even attempt to help. But they all moved with grace and spoke softly to each other, clearly used to serving royalty, and they worked very efficiently together. They left me standing in the middle of the room while I watched them begin to lug buckets of hot water to a bathtub that was housed in its own room. I tried to hide my shock and awe as these women already thought I was acting strangely, but when I prepared baths for my master and his wife, it was just a small wooden tub that was moved in and out of the home.
It was nothing this large and beautiful.
I didn’t know what the tub was made of, only certain that it was metal instead of wood. And the walls in this room were painted a dark green, reminding me of the lush pastures that surrounded my little farm. Just looking at the hot water that was being poured into the tub in such a serene room was enough to make my muscles relax.
At least for a moment.
A startled yelp leaked from my mouth when I felt fingers pulling at the corset that secured my dress in place. I whirled around, thinking I would come face to face with the king who had changed his mind about giving me time to settle in. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do or say to stop him; I just knew I couldn’t let him take me like this.
But when I saw a little woman standing in front of me, looking as surprised as I felt and not a king filled with lust, I became ashamed. It seemed that acting like royalty was not my best performance.
“Sorry. I'm so sorry,” I rambled. “I thought . . .” I cut myself off, not knowing what to say. I had thought it was the king, but what was I going to tell them? That I had agreed to let the king bed me for an old horse and marriage? That even sounded odd in my head, and these women already thought I was a walking disaster.
“I just thought that you would need help,” the fragile woman responded.
“I do,” I blurted. “I'm sorry. I just . . .” I couldn't finish yet again, so I just fell silent and turned away from her, allowing her to tug at the laces.
In no time, my dress was removed from my body which I thought I would be grateful for. At least I wouldn't have to be wearing that outdated filth so close to my skin in such a gorgeous palace, but I actually felt worse. Now, my body was on complete display for these strangers. They tried to hide the curiosity, but I caught their eyes wandering over my protruding ribs and horribly thin legs. Each one of them stared at my horrendously scarred ankles. Once again, I was exposed as what I truly was. A slave.
The maids ushered me into the bathtub, and I almost let out a squeal of joy when my body sank into the hot water. Throughout my life, the only washing I had been able to receive was dunking my body down in the icy creek that flowed by the old farm. Every single time I bathed, I would come out of the water cursing, claiming I would never be so foolish to go into such frigid water again. But, eventually, I would become too dirty to stand, and I would go back on my promise. It was a necessary evil as far as I was concered.
This bath, on the other hand, was one of the most pleasurable things I had experienced. Once I was submerged, the maids began to work away on the mess that was my body. Rich oils were run through my tangled hair, and I closed my eyes at the soft smell of the soap a maid was using on my hands. I felt like a goddess and didn't feel inclined to move at all, so I didn't. I merely lay in the water with my head tilted back and my eyes closed.
Apparently, I was deathly still because the maids assumed I was asleep.
“Poor girl,” one of them whispered.
“What a shame,” another replied.
I was going to open my eyes, bothered by their pity, but decided not to and kept my body still. I wanted to hear what they had to say about me and the mess I had dragged into the palace. And I also wanted to know if they knew why I was here; maybe they had a better idea of my situation than I did.
“Where do you think she's from?”
“It's hard to tell. Her clothes are old, and the man that brought her here has evidently been sent away.”
“She must be a slave.”
“Must be. Looks too thin to be much of anything else. And those ankles.”
“Do you think she is the king's mate?” The voice came from the small woman who had undone my corset. Even now, she sounded shy and worried.
“I'm not sure.”
I was almost certain that that voice belonged to the tall woman with black hair.
“He hides his emotions so much better now, after the war, than he did when he was young. But the first wife was not his mate which means there's still a chance for this one.”
“Well, I think she's the king's mate. Why else would he let a slave in to his palace? He's become so pretentious over the years.”
Their comments made my brow furrow, and all three of the maids held their breath at the movement. They must've thought I was waking up, and I decided that I had heard enough anyway. I doubted they would so willingly plunge back into that conversation now. I opened my eyes and blinked against the harsh light that streamed in from the massive windows. I eased my hands away from the maid's, and all three of them stood up and took a step back with practiced uniformity. I was tempted to ask them about the king and why they thought I was something called a 'mate'. In addition, I wanted to know about his previous wife, why it had ended, and the war. But it was all too much whirling in my head. I didn't know these women at all; perhaps asking questions would be some kind of treason. Or maybe they would tell the king everything they had told me and everything I had said in response. So I swallowed all of my questions, reminding myself that I had plenty of time to learn about all these things.
I was going to be married to the man after all.
“Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to have fallen asleep on you. How rude of me,” I lied.
“No need to apologize, my lady. We are just finishing up,” the dark-haired one responded.
Within the next few minutes, I received the last of my extensive pampering, and I was helped out of the tub, dried off, and redressed in a grand gown that weighed my hips down quite heavily. I opened my mouth to ask the small maid who was dressing me if she had anything with less fanfare but pressed my lips back together. She had worked so hard to get my body into this dress. I couldn't very well demand that she take it off now. I would just have to deal with it for the time being.
“Now, what would you like to do? We have a sewing room, or maybe you would like time to practice on the piano?” The tall maid asked.
I didn't want to tell them that I wasn't capable of doing either of those things, so I simply shook my head and asked, “Do any of you know if my horse has been returned?”
“Yes, your horse has been put in the royal stables. Would you like one of us to take you to it?”
“No, thank you. I will ask a guard to escort me. You all are much too busy to be bothered with this,” I replied. The truth was I wanted to be away from the women who now knew some of my gruesome secrets. Even for just for a moment, I wanted to collect myself and arrange my thoughts.
A guard was stationed right outside my door, so in no time, I was being taken to my only possession. I felt like I was from another world as I walked beside the royal guard. He looked dashingly handsome in his red jacket and breeches with a sword strapped to his thigh. And I thought I looked quite wonderful as well because I was wearing a stunning red gown that was encrusted with more jewels than I could count. My hair had been washed and lightly dried with a towel before it had been brushed, but when I saw myself in the mirror, I had to suppress my own tears.
Mirrors could only be purchased by the rich, and considering my upbringing, it wasn't surprisi
ng that I rarely came in contact with them. However, the guard and I had been passing through a hallway filled with them. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. Light shone through the windows, and the space exploded with sunlight, almost glowing as we walked through.
“Wow,” I breathed.
The royal guard beside me chuckled softly but stopped with me as I gawked at myself. Where was the slave that I had been this morning?
I looked amazing. My blond hair was still wet but looked tamed and wasn't coated with brown dust and snarling knots. My blue eyes shone now, instead of looking pale and bleak. I looked as good as I felt. The red dress was a bit too much for my slight figure, making it look like it was wearing me instead, but if I had any more weight on my bones, no one in this palace would know I was a slave.
Chapter Eight
My first two complete days at the palace flew by in no time at all. I spent as much time as I could spare in the stables, which also meant I spent a lot of time with the same handsome guard. He had a quiet demeanor about him that made me enjoy his company. We never said much to each other, and he never commented about how much I talked to my horse or how many times a day I brushed him and checked his feet.
I was worried about the old beast and fussed over him endlessly. He wasn't used to being in a stable, and though he had companions on the farm, he only ever spent time with one other horse. Now, he was surrounded by ill-tempered sport horses, and when those horses came too close, his ears would go back and he would snap his teeth. I always chided him for it but was secretly proud that he could fight back which seemed too silly to say out loud.
At one point, the handsome guard did ask me my horse's name so it could be etched into a plaque on his stall. It seemed odd. First, I had to come up with a name for myself to satisfy the king, and I was still learning how to force myself to respond every time it was spoken. Now, I had to name my old horse to satisfy the stable hands. But I knew that anyone above the social status of a slave had names for themselves and their animals. This was just another step towards my new life as a royal.
I decided on ‘Jester’ because the old horse always had some tricks for those he came across who were less than kind. The royal guard gave me a smile and sent out word, returning with a bucket of oats. I sighed to myself at the time, thinking that at least someone in this building was kind to me, and my old horse would get the retirement he deserved.
It might not have been perfect, but it was enough for now.
I never thought that I would be so ungrateful for what had been given to me. I had come from a life with nothing, and now it seemed like I had everything I could want. Yet, I often felt miserable in the morning. I had three maids who wouldn't meet my eyes and whispered behind my back about my scarred ankles that had obviously been shackled and my unusual behaviors. I was presented with hobbies and tasks daily, but I always refused because of my lack of ability, and I knew the staff would eventually catch on if they hadn't already. When I walked to the grand stables, everyone would gawk at me, and I never knew if they were looking at my disgustingly thin figure or if they were trying to understand how such an unrefined girl ended up in such a lavish dress. And when I wasn't concerned with what other people were assuming of me, I would find myself lazing around, dreading what was to come from the king but not being able to do anything to prevent it.
Unsurprisingly, the day came sooner than I wanted it to, and I was called upon to meet the king in the ballroom. I dreaded going back to the room I had been selected in, but I stayed perfectly still while the maids worked hard to dress me. I could hate what was happening all I liked, but I had agreed to it regardless.
So instead, I focused on the little details of my impending doom. The dress the maids helped me into was white and stunning yet simple. It was much more appealing to my taste than anything else that had been stuffed onto me, though it was a little serious. My tiny waist was cinched tightly, and it made me look even more unhealthy than before. But when the skirts were added—layers upon layers of lace and delicate fabrics I had never even heard of—I looked like I had a good figure, wide womanly hips, and an accentuated bust. Unfortunately, something didn’t quite sit right, and I was beginning to think it was more than just the fabric.
One of the maids went to work, making sure my face and hair looked just as good as my body did. My lips were painted red, and a bizarre powder was brushed against my cheeks. My blonde hair was brushed free of any knots then twirled around and pulled relentlessly. I constantly resisted the urge to yelp out by reminding myself that this was nothing. I had been through much worse. If I could survive my master’s beatings, I could survive this.
Once the whole ordeal was finished, I had to admit that I looked quite beautiful. Not very much like myself but beautiful nonetheless. It was a far cry from the reflections I usually saw in the stream by the farm. If my eyes were less sunken, my cheeks less hollow, and my waist a little thicker, I would've looked just like any other fine lady walking through the city, and I didn’t know if that was terrifying or appealing.
“Are you ready?” The tall dark-haired maid asked.
“I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be ready for, but I suppose I am,” I replied with an anxious smile.
The maid didn't even tweak her lips to soothe me. She just nodded her head, opened the bedroom door, and called out for a guard.
The usual guard came to my aid, and I was thrilled when he actually offered me a grin that looked genuine. I eagerly went to him and slipped my arm through his when he offered his elbow.
For the briefest moment, I wondered what he thought of me looking like this. He had seen me when I first came to the palace, looking like what I had always been—a slave—and now he saw me dressed like an elegant high-class woman. Did he think I looked beautiful or did he think I looked silly because I was trying to be something I wasn't?
“You seem anxious,” the guard said, breaking the sound of my slippers hitting the floor.
“I am,” I blurted, the confession tumbling out. “I don't even know what this is about.”
The guard looked stricken for a moment, his mouth falling open. The gesture made my heart clench in my chest and my breathing came in and out of my body faster. He tried to regain his composure and shrug his shoulders, but my nervousness had already leapt up immensely. We walked the rest of the way in silence, though I was dying to ask him what I would be walking into.
The guard and I eventually reached the ballroom doors. He eased his arm away from me and pulled open one of the grand doors.
I braced myself for the worst, but I doubted any amount of preparation could help me with what was to come.
I could only let out a gasp when I saw well over a hundred eyes staring back at me. My attention flew from one person to the next, desperately trying to find a familiar face in this field of strangers. I found none, not even a guard or a maid I had seen in the hallways of the palace. It was all elegant men and women who were dressed in the finest clothing.
And there, at the end of the parade of elegantry, was the king. He was standing proudly at the far end of the ball room with his attention narrowed in on me like he was afraid I would bolt. He was wearing some kind of suit that almost looked like a guard's uniform, just a different colour and with more metals attached to the breast. He watched me closely. Those dark eyes stayed locked on me as I slowly began making my way towards him. I tried to focus on him and ignore all the strangers who were watching my every flinch and breath, but it was difficult. I had never been the center of attention like this, and I didn't know what was expected of me. All I could do was take slow, calculated steps towards my target.
When I reached the king, I noticed there was another man with him.
“What is going on?” I whispered softly. My voice shook even though I truly wished it hadn't.
“You wanted to get married,” the king replied flatly.
“This is not what I meant,” I hissed back.
But it was too late. The ser
vice had started. The priest spoke slowly but loudly so everyone in the ballroom could hear. My hands quaked at my sides, but I wasn't sure if it was the nerves that were getting to me or the anger. I had never been in front of this many people, especially high-class people who were judging my every breath. And I wanted to scream at the king, tell him he was a fool for almost tricking me into this ceremony. He knew this wasn't what I wanted, otherwise he wouldn't have kept it a secret from me. This was his way of getting the upper hand over my demands, and it enraged me.
But I couldn't say a thing in protest, not in front of all these people. I didn't even want to dream of the backlash that would accompany my rebellion. I knew the torment that could come from a small farm owner. I didn't want to think about the awful things that a king could do to me if I upset him enough. So I stood beside him like an obedient slave would.
Before I even knew that the ceremony was coming to a close, the priest announced that the king could kiss me, and my eyes widened in horror as I took a small step back. But I knew better than to protest when the king moved forward and pressed his mouth against mine in a fleeting kiss.
But the kiss froze me. I was left breathless. The contact had been short, but it left my skin tingling and my lungs deprived of air. For a few seconds, all I could do was stand and stare at the king in absolute shock. I had never felt anything like it. It was astounding, far more than I could handle, and my stomach felt like there were thousands of butterflies in it. I brought my fingertips to my lips, stunned that such an extraordinary feeling could even come from them.
The First Queen: A Shifter Romance Page 4