by Hensley,Alta
“Is everything all right?” the girl asked, noticing my surprise.
I blinked and nodded, catching up to her. “Everything is just fine. The house seems a little larger than I expected.”
The young servant smiled softly as we approached the gates to the courtyard, where several guards were waiting for us.
“Yes, it does have that effect, doesn’t it?” the girl said as we approached the guards. Facing them, she said, “I have Tudor Dane, an invitee of Rigby’s. She’ll attend the celebration dinner as a guest, and she’ll receive honors for contributing to our latest victories.”
The guards nodded and allowed us into the courtyard. My brows furrowed together tightly and I gripped the servant by the shoulder. When she winced a little, I dropped my hand. Sometimes I hardly remembered how strong a grip I had.
“I am receiving honors tonight?” I asked in confusion.
The girl rubbed her shoulder and nodded. “Yes. Rigby has deemed you a great asset to our army and has named you as one of the reasons why we have achieved victory. You will receive honors before General Becker himself.”
The courtyard was massive, housing hundreds of small benches and community settings. Several people wandered around, talking amongst themselves. When the servant and I passed, the conversations dropped and everyone seemed to look at me.
While I was usually proud, and held my head high, I now felt a little out of place as everyone could clearly see my difference, and take note that I was obviously a woman in men’s clothing. I could also see they were all trying to see my feathers for themselves. Luckily, they were mostly concealed, and you would have to be up close to see them.
I followed the servant down the polished stone pathway that cut through the courtyard. I could tell that the girl was still a little upset about my strong grip, and I didn’t bother to apologize for it. I had killed many men without asking for forgiveness, so merely causing a little ache in someone’s shoulder hardly put a tick on my conscience.
I kept close behind her as we started up the grand steps, which were polished and of the same snowy color as the bricks. Each step contained intricate carvings and I got caught up in studying one of them.
“Tudor!” the servant snapped, already at the top of the staircase. “Come now. We need to hurry.”
I abandoned the artwork and hurried up to the top of the stairs where the girl was waiting. A pair of guards stood at the wide double doors which were decorated in paintings. Like before, I paused to stare at them, and the servant had to physically pull me away. Or, at least, she tried.
I had a precise sense of balance and strength, so when the girl tried to pull me away from the doors, I did not budge. After a few moments, I voluntarily walked away from the doors and followed her down one of the many halls.
The inside of the main building was just as intricate as the outside. Several tapestries hung down the walls, along with hundreds of different paintings, some of the landscape, and others of heroes in war.
The floor was highly polished, and it amazed me that it was possible to almost clearly see my reflection in it. It was as if I were walking on a block of ice. I stopped to stare down at myself and realized that other people probably thought I was a wanderer, instead of a soldier in the army, judging by the way I looked.
I quickly hastened to follow the servant down the hallway, pausing before a set of polished doors similar to the ones on the front of the main building.
“You will be bathed, clothed, and made up before tonight’s celebratory dinner in four hours,” the girl said as she heaved open the door.
“I have four hours to get dressed? Why would I need four hours?” I asked.
“You need to look at yourself in a mirror. That would answer your question,” she told me with a subtle smirk.
I restrained the urge to punch the female in the face and merely followed her into the dressing room, where a team of attendants sat waiting for my arrival. All of them were dressed in heavy layers of silks and satins, makeup perfectly applied to their faces. I felt as though I was looking at a set of porcelain dolls.
“Hello, Tudor,” said a second servant as she got to her feet. “We are so lucky to have you in attendance. We cannot wait to help transform you.” The sweetness was so thick, I almost wished to be standing beside Oakes and the other assholes outside.
I groaned inwardly and looked back at the first servant, who was busy shutting the doors. Running the back of my hand across my forehead, thankful that I was out of the sun, I could feel my sweat drying into my uniform, making the cloth stiff and hard to move in.
“We have already drawn up a bath of essential oils for you,” one of the servants said as she opened the doors to a luxurious bathroom.
Like the rest of the house, the bathroom had high ceilings and was adorned with beautiful paintings. At the center of the room was a large tub filled with some kind of purple substance that was heavily scented. Another, smaller tub stood off in the corner, filled with water. I wrinkled my nose.
“Now, if you will hand us your battle-worn wardrobe, we would be happy to help you bathe,” one of the servants told me, already reaching for the sleeve of my shirt.
Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her wrist. Seeing the startled look on her face, I dropped her wrist with an apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I am a warrior, and once a Penna. I have been taught to be alert and to watch myself.”
The servant nodded in understanding, but she still seemed a tad frightened. “Can… can you get your feathers wet?” she asked, clearly afraid of my answer.
“Yes,” I simply answered.
“If you would like,” another servant jumped in, “we can let you undress in private and you can bathe in the oils of your own accord. If you would like to, there is also a tub of water to bathe in to cleanse yourself of dirt.”
I nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
With that, I walked into the bathroom and pushed the doors shut. Sighing, I stripped off my uniform, finally glad to be out of it. My naked body was covered from head to toe in grime. A thick air of musk exuded from my body, and I suddenly felt extremely unclean. Usually, I was used to all that came with weeks of not fully bathing, but now that I was in Rigby’s home, I felt incredibly dirty and impure.
I let my dark hair flow down past my shoulders. I was so used to putting it up in a band that it felt foreign to have it flow down my back. It was dirty and matted with blood, sweat, and icy particles.
I padded across the bathroom and gently slid into the tub filled with water. Compared to the cold water I usually bathed in, this was a blessing. It was warm and pure, easy on my skin. I let my entire body soak under the water for a few moments before getting to work on my filth.
For the next twenty minutes, I scrubbed off all the dirt from my body, which irritated my skin and made it incredibly pink. But I was just happy to be rid of all the filth. Looking down at the feathers on my wrists and then my ankles, I found my mindset shifting. I knew that only a short while earlier, I would have wished that I could just scrub those off as easily as I could scrub off my stink. I had never given much thought to my feathers until I left the Penna, only to be called a mutant by Oakes when I joined the Cyan. The feathers had made me even more different, and that had shamed me. I had hated them so much. But now, after Oakes’s admission that he actually envied me for their ability to keep me warm, I felt differently. He was right. I had never felt the bite of cold so bitter that every cell in my body would ache. Perhaps they weren’t as awful as I’d once believed.
Finally, I rose from the water and quickly ran across the bathroom to the other tub, which was filled with that purple, thick liquid. I dipped one finger in it and drew it across the surface, noting that it was thick and syrupy. Taking a deep breath, I slowly dipped one foot in, followed by the other. I let my body sink into the oil.
While the water of the first bath was clear and easy to move around in, the oil in the second one wa
s thick, and it felt like I was trapped in quicksand. I was almost startled for a moment, but then I reminded myself that I was in Rigby’s house, not out in the icy battlefield.
I let the oils sink into every crevice of my body, and the scent overwhelmed my senses. The aroma was almost fruity, almost floral, but I couldn’t tell exactly what combination it was. It was a blessing compared to the rough soaps I and the other soldiers used while washing in the communal bathing areas.
I tipped my head back and rested it on the back of the tub, staring up at the ceiling. Before I knew it, my eyes were shut. I hadn’t realized how tired I was, and it was easy for me to slip into a gentle, light sleep. As I was always alert for enemies, I was used to sleeping in a light state, just in case I had to be on the move at a moment’s notice.
Just as I was sinking into a deeper sleep, I was jolted awake by the servants, who were all crowded around the bathtub. I jumped, my heart starting.
“We thought something had happened to you, Tudor,” one of the servants squeaked. “Please, forgive us for disturbing you.”
I shook my head to clear myself from my small nap, and rose from the tub, my body dripping with the thick oils.
“It’s all right,” I mumbled as one of the servants handed me a thick, soft towel.
I wrapped the towel around my shoulders and reveled in how soft it was to the touch as the servants filed out, stepping back into the bedroom. The wardrobe, which was made of thick, dark wood, was open, revealing a set of clothes.
I stopped in the bathroom doorway.
“Is there something wrong?” one of the servants asked me.
“Do I have to get dressed up?” I asked.
Another servant nodded. “As you will receive honors from General Dablin Becker this evening, it would be proper to dress in the right attire.”
I drew the towel tighter around my body and walked forward. The cool stone floor was slick under my feet, smooth compared to the packed snow of the icy land.
“This is what we have for you to wear to the celebratory dinner,” a girl said as she removed a long, crimson gown from the wardrobe.
The gown was a deep red color that briefly reminded me of blood. It was garnished with crystals and other jewels, and it seemed to flow effortlessly. It was a one-shouldered dress, with beading on the shoulder strap.
“You want me to actually wear this?” I questioned. All of the servants nodded with smiles. “My feathers will show.”
“That doesn’t matter,” one girl said. “It’s no secret you are a Penna. We don’t need to hide that fact. If anything, it fascinates us all.”
“Once you have finished drying yourself off,” another servant said, “we’ll help you into the gown.”
I nodded and quickly dried off my body. I stood still as the servants helped me into the crimson gown, and I suddenly felt like a different person.
No longer did I feel like the warrior who had slain one hundred men. No longer did I feel like the only woman in the army. No longer did I feel huge, bulky, and powerful.
I smiled. So, this was what it was to feel like a woman. I felt as elegant as the servants in this gown, and felt like I belonged with the rest of the females in the house. I felt beautiful, classy, cleansed.
“Now we will help you with your hair and your face,” a servant said. She reached out to touch my hand, but another girl shook her head in warning.
Instead, I followed all of the servants into the bathroom again, where I sat down on a plush dressing chair. Before me on the counter stood hundreds of small glass bottles and discs, all filled with different colors, with all the lost colors of the world, it seemed.
A servant grabbed a thick hairbrush from the counter and carefully raised it above my head. In the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she met my eyes and we shared a confirmation.
She stroked the brush through my long hair, pulling out all the knots and drying it. I winced a few times when my hair was pulled, but I sat through it. Next, I sat through the servant winding my hair up into an elegant updo, finished by clipping it together with a jeweled clasp that matched my crimson gown.
“Do you like your hair?” the servant asked, and that was when I realized that I had shut my eyes in the process.
I opened them again to see how beautiful my dark hair was. It had a certain shine to it and was piled on top of my head in an elegant, sophisticated manner. It seemed so different from the usual messy pile I threw it in when I trained or went to battle.
“It looks fine,” I said flatly. A lump formed in my throat, and I found it incredibly difficult to swallow.
One of the servants grabbed one of the glasses in front of me on the counter and opened it, smoothing a little red onto her finger. Immediately, I thought it was blood, but it was only some kind of powder.
“Now, please close your eyes,” she said, and I did so. The servant smoothed the bit of red powder over the tops of my eyelids and it was a strange sensation to feel.
After the servant finished, I opened my eyes and jumped a little. Seeing red at the tops of my eyes startled me, but I had to remind myself that I was not wounded. It was only a little makeup, used to enhance my beauty.
I sat through a few more minutes of beauty prepping as the servants added color to my cheeks and lips, the paint making them appear darker and more vibrant. Soon, I looked like the servants: polished, painted, and porcelain.
“Your shoes,” one of the servants said as she came back into the bathroom.
She held out a pair of crimson slippers to match the gown I was wearing. The slippers were soft to the touch and fit well on my feet, glimmering with the jewels in the light.
“Now all we need is jewelry,” another servant said. She asked me if I felt comfortable wearing jewelry.
I stared flatly at my reflection. “I have never worn jewels in my entire life. I don’t know what it feels like to be adorned with them at all.”
The servant merely stared at me before leaving the room and coming back with a heavy wooden chest. She set it on the counter and opened it, revealing a mess of jewels that were strung on a chain. The servant rifled through them for a few moments before pulling out a string of red rubies.
I sat still as she strung the gems around my neck and clasped it at the back. The necklace was heavy and pressed down against my sternum, but it was no heavier than the armor I once wore. I had lifted grown men onto my back and carried them through miles in the freezing temperatures during the most recent battle. I could most certainly handle a dainty necklace.
“You are all ready, Tudor,” the first servant announced, inviting me to stand up.
“This is it?” I asked as I stood and glanced once more in the mirror. I stared at a stranger. A beautiful, dainty, elegant stranger. Never had I seen such a beautiful woman.
Moving my gaze toward the servants, I said, “Thank you.” It didn’t seem like much, but as I was unaccustomed to giving voice to any appreciation, it was a great deal.
Chapter Eight
“The celebratory dinner begins in thirty minutes,” another servant declared. “It would be wise to be seated soon, before the food is served.”
I silently followed the women out of the bathroom. The gown was just a tad too long, and I started to trip over the hem. But I carried myself well enough that no one would notice.
The servants led me down the hallway, and I saw many groups of guests, all dressed in fine fabrics of varying colors. Other than my feathers, I didn’t feel like such an outsider anymore. I felt like I actually belonged amongst the finely dressed for once.
Continuing down the hall, the servants and I turned into the large dining hall, which made me stop in my tracks. The ceiling was high, and a dozen small tables dotted the room. At the front stood a long table decorated with place settings and fine table runners. Due to the low lighting, I felt as though I were standing in the snow as the sun sank below the horizon; it cast a dreamy look across the room.
I quickly shook my head and caught up with
the servants. I dodged around a few different people, and suddenly stopped running once I realized that everyone else was walking. If I was supposed to be sophisticated, I needed to act like it.
As I approached the group of servants, I again glanced at the long table at the front of the room. A few people were already sitting down and I stopped.
A regal man was sitting at the head of the table, his dark hair perfectly coiffed. His skin, which was the color of snow, was smooth, and almost glowed in the low lighting. Even from far away, his hazel eyes glimmered as they suddenly landed on me.
The general briefly smiled at me, and I dropped my gaze to my shoes and started walking. I made my way to the group of servants, who showed me to my seat.
“Tudor, this is General Dablin Becker,” one of them said, gesturing to him.
The general immediately rose from his chair. He was much taller than I had imagined. He swiftly took a few steps forward and bowed before me. With shy smiles, the servants quickly left me alone.
“It is an honor to meet with you, Tudor,” the general said, his voice smooth and rich. “But call me Dablin, please. I hate all the formalities.”
I could only blink. Even though I had murdered hundreds of men who looked just like Dablin, I could hardly stand in his presence without feeling like I was a mere peasant girl.
“Please, come join me,” Dablin said as he pulled out a chair next to his. “We have just fifteen minutes before the dinner begins.” I walked closer, trying to steady my breathing. “My cousin speaks highly of you. I hear you are a fierce warrior, worthy of any opponent.”
I nodded and tried to smile without seeming awkward. I carefully sat down in my chair, remembering to keep my head up.
“Thank you for giving me the invitation for tonight,” I said quietly.
“It is an honor to have you here,” Dablin said, leaning towards me with a small smile. “After all, you are the only female soldier in my army, and you led our men to victory. My cousin Rigby also speaks of marriage. He believes you were sent to us for a reason. So a small dinner is the least I could do to honor you.”