by Ian Withrow
“I’m fine, Ellian!”
The girl flinched.
“Thank you, Ellian, I’m fine…”
Lauren gently rubbed her suddenly throbbing temples.
“Have the cooks prepare pancakes, I’ll take them after my bath.”
Ellian nodded, bowed, and scurried away. Lauren was left alone in her massive bedchamber. She felt awkward, uncomfortable, as though she had forgotten something very important. She looked around for something to stir her memory. Her eyes slipped across the massive silk tapestries decorating her walls, the exquisitely tiled floor, and the simmering jeweled oil lamps, but none of them yielded the answers she sought.
She could feel her temper simmering just below the surface of her thoughts, not unusual if she was painfully honest with herself. It felt different though, hot, dangerous, unstable. She cast off the silk sheet she was wrapped in. It felt restricting and warm, where it had been cool and soft a moment before. She let out a low growl and, determined to improve her mood, headed off to the palace baths.
Guards snapped to attention as she passed through the flowing curtains separating her quarters from the main corridor that ran the length of this wing of the palace. Chloe, her other handmaiden, quickly fell into step behind her as her long, lean legs carried her quickly past the statuesque soldiers. They were consummately professional, their gaze never wavering as her naked form passed them by, reflected in the mirror-bright surface of their armor.
The palace was nearly silent this early in the morning, only the occasional patrol of guards or stray servant interrupted her brisk trip. Everyone she met hastily stepped clear of her path and kept their eyes respectfully downcast.
Despite no one meeting her gaze, Lauren couldn't help but feel like she was travelling in a spotlight. Some malignant gaze seemed to bore into the back of her skull. She could feel this unseen presence leering at every inch of her body. She tried to shake the feeling, but failed.
By the time she reached the bathhouse she was trembling. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she finally passed through the hanging silk doors and into the privacy of the baths.
“Chloe.”
“Yes, your Majesty?”
Lauren tried to keep her voice from cracking. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
“Fetch my apothecary.”
She didn’t turn to see if the girl had gone, she knew she had.
Alone at last she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.
She was standing a few yards from the edge of what amounted to a heated swimming pool. Given the unique requirements of her wings, the artisans from the city had crafted a massive, shallow brass basin for her to bathe in. It was close to 20 feet across, and it sloped to just over four feet deep in the middle. Large diameter pipes delivered steaming water into the basin, and above it a complicated cage of brass piping could let forth a steamy rainfall, if she desired.
The pipes were flowing, but the basin was not yet full, and it would be several minutes until it was ready. Instead, Lauren walked around the outside of the bath and strode to the thin sliding door that separated the steam room from the main chamber.
The steam room was one of Lauren’s favorite places in the entire palace. It was smaller, only 20 feet to a side, but it was covered floor to ceiling in pink granite from Corsica. A low bench wrapped around the outside of the room, and a beautiful brass sculpture of a maiden sat on a raised dais in the center. The statue held a large decanter, from which steam would pour at the turn of a cleverly hidden dial. Lauren had never been quite sure how the steam arrived to the statue, some byproduct of heating her bathwater, she supposed. Her still-sore body was grateful for it though, however it came to be.
Lauren turned the dial and sighed contentedly as the decanter let loose a steady column of steam into the air. Satisfied that the room would soon be to her liking, Lauren moved to the bench to lie down.
She must have dozed off, because she was suddenly aware of a soft tapping at the door. The room was thick with steam, and the door was sweating as much as she was.
“Enter,” she called out sleepily.
“Your Majesty, you called for me?”
Lauren recognized the soothing voice of her apothecary, Peggy.
Lauren stood, and walked to the door. It was uncommon for her to go to a servant, rather than the other way around, but Peggy was a special exception. Peggy had been in Lauren’s life for as long as she could remember. The plump little blonde woman carried herself well, especially for being in her late sixties, but having her stand in a room this hot would be rather cruel at her age.
“Your Majesty, how can I serve you this morning?”
Peggy bowed low as Lauren opened the door.
“Good morning Peggy. I… slept poorly. I was hoping you had something for a migraine, or for stiff joints, or… I guess anxiety?”
“Well now, that’s unusual isn’t it, your Majesty? Stiff joints? Migraines? In all your life you haven’t needed any of my help dealing with those.”
Lauren managed a weak smile. But Peggy was right. Lauren’s powers had always seen to her perfect health. Soreness, stiffness, pain, these had always been exceptionally temporary.
“Don’t you fret though, your Majesty. I have just what you need in my bags.”
Lauren followed Peggy further into the main bath chamber, noticing excitedly that her bath was ready as well. The strong scents of citrus and lavender wafted up from the steaming water. Her servants must have added some of her favorite essential oils.
Peggy sat at one of the low stone benches beside the basin and reached into a white handbag with a big red cross on it. For some reason the bag and the symbol comforted Lauren, though she didn’t recognize them.
“Here we are, this should help with your symptoms your Majesty.”
She pulled a small bottle from the bag and handed it to Lauren, who looked it over. It was small, filled with amber liquid, and had fancy gold script on it. She couldn’t read the language, but she noted a number at the bottom; 60.
Lauren had no reason to doubt her friend, but she felt hesitant. The tiny bottle seemed much heavier than it ought to be, and it filled her with unease. Still, she uncorked the bottle and took a sniff. It smelled of oak and plums. Her sense of Deja Vu returned.
“Thank you, Peggy, that will be all.”
“Your Majesty.”
The woman stood, bowed, and walked away. Lauren was left staring at the bottle in her hand. She decided to test the waters of her bath before committing to the medicine. Lauren set the bottle down at the very edge of the basin, and dipped a toe into the steaming liquid below.
It felt sensational.
Thrilled, she sat down and eased herself fully into the tub. It was a nearly religious experience. The hot water rose up her legs, relieving tension in her calves and thighs as she entered. Wading towards the center was like walking into a lover’s embrace. The surface rose to meet her hips, her stomach, and finally her chest, stopping just below her breastbone when she reached the deepest parts. Her wings, still held aloft, had not yet touched the water, but she would soon fix that.
Lauren took a deep breath and then sat abruptly down in the center of the basin, immersing herself fully and plunging her wings beneath the still waters.
The incredible sensation of her feathers rippling beneath the surface was unlike anything she had experienced. The unusual resistance mixed with the oddity of buoyancy was mesmerizing. She felt herself smiling as she sat on the bottom of the basin, gazing up to the rippling surface just above her face.
She laid back upon the bottom of the basin, floating a few inches off the bottom for as long as she could. She relished the weightless feeling and the deep heat soaking into her.
Finally though, she had to come up for air.
She laughed out loud as she stood, bursting through the surface of the water. She brushed her hair back behind her ears and relished the electric feel of the cooler air against her wet
skin. She stretched her wings high and wide, giving them a gentle shake to clear them of the heavy water droplets that were trapped between her feathers.
“You are beautiful.”
Lauren let out a tiny shriek of fright at the unexpected interruption. She spun around, sending water flying around the room. Instinctively, Lauren covered her exposed body with her arms and wings.
A tall, powerfully built man was standing at the edge of the basin, next to where she had left the bottle Peggy had given her. His coal-black skin was tight over his rippling muscles. He wore only a short kilt, and his attraction to her was impossible to hide. Not that he tried.
“Did I frighten you, my love?”
Lauren tried to still the pounding drum in her chest. For a moment she hadn’t recognized Weyland, but how could that be possible?
“N-no, I was just surprised. That’s all.”
Weyland had a deep and obvious hunger in his eyes, and it made Lauren more uncomfortable than she could rationalize.
What’s wrong with me?
Lauren flashed a cautious but convincing smile at her husband, but she couldn't bring herself to uncover her body. She felt the familiar love she had for him, but it was accompanied by a strange, unnameable hesitation.
“Your water is cooling down my dear, let me fix that for you.”
Without breaking eye contact, Weyland undid the ties at his hip and let the kilt fall to the tiles. Lauren blushed uncomfortably and looked away, but not soon enough to avoid seeing his desire for her.
She flushed at what she had seen. It was… attractive in an objective way, certainly, but she was conspicuously unaroused. She found herself hoping he would stay where he was.
He didn’t.
Weyland stepped confidently into the pool, the water hissing on contact with his skin as he did so. He took slow, purposeful strides towards her, his eyes never leaving her face. She couldn’t meet his gaze until after the water had risen above his hips.
With every foot closer, Lauren felt the urge to run building in her mind. Her legs tensed, her wings quivered with the need to be somewhere, anywhere else. She was unable to fight the strange hold he seemed to have on her, though. She was rooted in place.
“Are you hiding from me, my little bird? You were so free and… open a moment ago. I was rather enjoying watching you, actually.”
Lauren’s skin crawled. Weyland was right next to her now, walking around the perimeter formed in front of her by her wings. He circled her like a predator stalking injured prey. As he did so, he drew nearer. She screamed at herself internally to turn, to follow him, to keep her wingspan between them.
But her body rebelled.
Instead, she stood still as he moved behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body against her back.
“Much better. Now smile, little bird, you’re so much prettier when you smile.”
Weyland reached a hand out, touching the side of Lauren’s neck and causing her to flinch.
“Oh you seem so... tense! Let me help you relax.”
His hands were massaging her shoulders. His skin was painfully hot, and she struggled against the urge to pull away. His half hearted massage gave way to his fingers tracing patterns down her back. His grasping fingers slipped lower and lower, reaching around to caress her hips as well.
Revulsion built within Lauren like a lake behind a dam, waiting for the single drop that proved too much. She found it when his touch made it’s way forward, his fingers trying to slide between her legs.
With a sudden speed she wormed her way out of his torturous embrace. Turning swiftly, she faced him as she backed away. She fought back tears, hiding them behind a bright, smiling face as best she could.
“Lauren?”
Weyland looked annoyed.
He’s accustomed to getting his way, as he deserves. Who are you to deny him?
Lauren was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her inner monologue.
“I… I’m not feeling well m-my l-love.”
She stumbled over the last words. They felt foreign in her mouth.
“Well, come here. I’ll make you feel better.”
He was a beacon of arrogance, his arms widespread as if he expected her to fall into them.
“I think it’s because I didn’t have breakfast,” she blurted out.
“Your servants didn’t bring you breakfast? I’ll have them executed.”
The water around Weyland flashed into a rolling boil, turning Lauren’s skin pink from the sudden heat.
“No! I mean, no I told them I wanted to eat after my bath. I think I may have overstayed though, I really need to eat.”
The waters calmed. Somewhat.
“You’re sure that’s all?”
No.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Very well, little bird. Let us eat.”
“Oh no no, I can manage. It would be a shame to waste this wonderful bath, wouldn’t it? C-come find me when you’re finished.”
Lauren, still backing up, bumped into the edge of the basin. She turned and climbed out as quickly as she could without acting suspiciously. Lauren scooped up the bottle and hurried towards the door.
She hoped he wouldn’t follow her.
Lauren picked up the pace as soon as she cleared the curtains. She kept her head down and her pace brisk as she headed back for her bedroom. The hall was no longer welcoming. The guards she saw seemed menacing, though they still treated her with reverence.The walk that had taken her only a few minutes this morning seemed to last an eternity, but she finally made it to the curtains that marked her own private domain.
Passing through to doorway she noted that her clothes were not, in fact, set out for her. The discomfort she felt at wearing nothing but her own skin intensified.
“Erin!”
No answer.
“Erin!”
She yelled out again, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice. Something was terribly, terribly wrong here.
“Y-your Majesty? Are you calling for me?”
Ellian poked her head around the corner.
“Yes! Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I am so sorry, your Majesty. I-I thought you said ‘Erin?’”
Erin… why is that name so familiar?
“I… I’m sorry, I think you’re right. I meant to say Ellian.”
“You seem, ah, disturbed by something your Majesty, is everything ok?”
“I’m ok, I think. Help me get dressed.”
Why am I not ok?
Ellian dutifully ducked out of the room and returned a moment later with Chloe in tow. Both girls had their arms full of silks.
“A short dress today, your Majesty? Something to battle the summer heat?”
“No.”
Lauren felt the need to cover herself.
“No, um, something longer. Floor length please.”
Chloe produced a flowing brown satin dress. It was strapless, and had a slit from her ankle up to her thigh, but it would do. Lauren stepped into it, holding her chest as the girls slipped it up from her feet and secured the clasps along her back.
“You look very beautiful your Majesty,”
“Thank you, Eri- Er... Ellian”
Seriously?
Would you like to take your breakfast here in your chambers, your Majesty?”
Lauren cast a paranoid look over her shoulder, but the doorway was clear. Still, she couldn’t quite shake her discomfort from the bathhouse.
“No, thank you Ellian. I would prefer to eat outside. Perhaps the East Courtyard.”
Ellian bowed low and headed out.
A few minutes later found Lauren seated on a low, wrought-iron chair overlooking the shimmering ocean. Her handmaidens sat quietly on the stones nearby. Chloe was humming softly while Ellian read a book. Lauren was sipping fresh apple juice from a crystal glass, sighing contentedly while she basked in the brilliant sunshine. An empty plate and a silver fork were all that remained of the most marv
elous batch of pancakes Lauren had ever tasted.
Lauren set the glass down on the small round table next to her chair, enjoying the sparkle of the amber liquid for a moment before closing her eyes and leaning back against the cushions on her chair.
“Chloe, will you sing for me?”
“As you wish, your Majesty.”
She cleared her voice softly before beginning a soft, melodic rendition of a familiar song.
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found.
Was blind but now I see.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear...”
A gentle breeze tugged at Lauren’s feathers and rustled the hem of her dress. It brought the unfamiliar scents of a deep forest, fresh rain, and wildflowers. She lost herself in the comfort of that breeze while Chloe sang, lost herself in the music, dozing in the warmth of the day as it built.
“Marvelous.”
Weyland’s voice stole her breath away. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up and her relaxed posture tightened like a bowstring.
“A burlap sack would look stunning on you, my little bird. In this dress, however, you outshine the sun.”
She could feel him there, standing at the archway just a few yards behind her. The memory of his hands pawing across her body made her shiver with fright.
“Leave us.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the girls spoke in unison, and headed for the exit.
“Wait!”
She cried out just a little too desperately, stood just a little too quickly. She knew she was caught as the chair toppled over with a dull clang. Lauren wracked her brain for something to ask for. For any reason at all to keep them here so she wouldn't be alone with him.
She turned, hoping to find inspiration somewhere as she did.
The girls were frozen mid-step, unsure of what to do.
“Um, b-bring me some… um.”
“Wine. It seems my little bird needs some wine. You may bring it to my chambers.”
Weyland’s voice had an uncomfortable edge to it.
Chloe nodded while casting a furtive look back at Lauren. Was that sorrow in her eyes?
Lauren watched helplessly as the two left.