It turned out that the consequence was a bath, which, under different circumstances, would not have been considered a punishment. I was filthy. A bath, in theory, was the best possible thing anyone could offer me.
Except Olc was smiling.
"I will see to it myself, Your Highness," he replied. The eagerness in his voice made my stomach drop. "The hound will be scrubbed." He was going to drown me, obviously. By the time anyone checked on me, I'd be the cleanest corpse in Tolamn.
But the princess raised her hand.
"That will not be necessary, Commander. I have made other arrangements." She was sitting there, her hair still slightly damp at the ends, but the rest of her dry. I was standing before her, dripping lake water onto the floor, with the collar still around my neck.
"The women in your village speak of you. It seems you have a wandering eye and very little regard for where it lands. Your tongue follows where your eye leads. Let us see how far that boldness extends."
She gestured toward the door, which opened. Maids filed in, lining up along the wall with their hands clasped and their eyes lowered.
"One of them will attend your bath," the princess said, leaning forward. "Choose. Which suits your taste? The fair-haired one? The dark? Do you favor the tall, or are your appetites drawn to the slight?" Her eyes met mine. "Surely a man of your reputation can find one to his liking. Or shall I send for more?"
Then lightheadedness came.
No.
No.
Not now. I didn't want this. I didn't want Cassian crawling into my mouth in front of the princess; I didn't want to lose control again; I was going to get beaten up again.
It was too late. I straightened my back. My chin lifted, my hands settled at my side, and my mouth opened, and the words that came out were not mine.
"You line them up as though they were bolts of cloth. I was not aware that the crown traded in flesh. Has the kingdom fallen so low that its princess plays procurer?"
The princess narrowed her eyes. "You presume much."
"I presume nothing. I see women placed before me like wares at the market."
"You are being offered a kindness —"
"A kindness. Ha! You chain me. You starve me. You let your commander use me as his personal whetstone. And now you present me with these women for what? And you dare call it a kindness?"
"Perhaps," the princess said in a quieter voice, "you are too proud for kindness. Perhaps what you require is —"
My hand shot out and pointed at the third one from the left. My finger was out, extended at the maid with Kat's face before I had even finished wrestling control of my words from whatever had just taken them.
"Her. I want that one."
The maid looked up and frowned.
The princess fixed her gaze on my outstretched hand. Surprise flickered behind her expression.
"You are certain?”
"Yep."
A beat of silence.
"Very well. Iona will attend you." She waved her hand dismissively. "See that the hound is presentable by evening. And Iona —"
The maid bowed her head. "Your Highness."
"Do try not to let him bite you."
The small, stone room was a bathhouse. Steam rose from the wooden tub. Towels were neatly stacked on a bench. Iona closed the door behind us and turned to face me. I examined her back, which was similar to Kat's, albeit shorter and slimmer. Her fingernails were short, unpolished, and unkempt. She stood with her back to the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Kat?” I tried. It's worth a shot. “Kat is that you?”
“Cat? I am not a cat, I assure you.”
"Right. No, I know. I just—you look like someone I know."
"I look like a great many peoples someone, I am sure.” She uncrossed her arms. "I will say this once," she said, with a steady voice. "I am here to draw your bath and see you clean. That is the beginning and end of my purpose. If your hands find their way to anywhere they ought not be, I will take the poker from that hearth and put it somewhere you will not soon forget. The last one walked crooked for a fortnight. Am I understood?"
"Gotttttt ittttt."
"If you try to touch me, I'll scream and guards will come, and they won't ask whose hand was where before they start cutting things off."
"I'm not going to touch you, dude."
Her gaze met mine, as if measuring me. Her eyes appeared to be searching for the lie beneath the surface.
"Undress," she finally said. "The water cools while you stand there dripping on the stone."
"Yeah, about that. I'm gonna need you to, uh—not be here for that part."
Her shoulders, just slightly drawn back, formed a small defense. "If you think I am here to —"
“No, no!” I held both hands up. "I don't need help. With the bath, or the—any of it. I can wash myself. I'm a grown—person. I can do it. I'd actually prefer it. If you could just like to wait outside, or behind the screen, or wherever, when I'm done, we can both go back and say whatever needs to be said and nobody has to do anything they don't want to do."
Her eyebrows rose, just slightly. She looked at me for a long moment. The distrust was still there.
"The princess instructed me to attend you."
"And I'm telling you I don't need attending. We can both lie about it. I won't say anything. You won't say anything. Everybody wins."
"You would have me deceive the princess."
“I just wanna bathe myself. That’s all. No weird shit, I promise.”
"You wish to bathe alone?”
"Yes, that is what I said."
"You are strange," she said. "The men I have attended before did not ask to be left alone."
"Yeah, well. I'm not them."
“You chose me from a line of women."
"I picked you because you look like someone I know. That's it. I promise. There's nothing else happening here."
She studied me for a moment longer, and her shoulders relaxed, just a little.
"I will set the bath and step behind the screen. You may wash in private." She went to the tub, testing its temperature with her wrist. She moved quickly, draping the cloth over the edge, and placing a second bucket of warm water beside the tub for rinsing. "Call when you are fit to be seen."
She stepped behind the screen. I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled. It brought everything with it. The blood had dried, sealing the shirt to my back, my shoulders and the places where the whip had cut and the ground had shredded me. Ripping it off was like peeling off a scab the size of my torso. I managed to lift it by an inch, and instantly, every wound reopened, causing unbearable agony. I clenched my jaw so hard that it popped.
Another inch, and my vision became blurry. My fingers were shaking. The fabric tore where it was thinnest, but held where the blood was thickest. I couldn't get to the worst of it—the parts over my shoulders and the middle of my back. I was twisting like an idiot, trying to peel myself out.
"Shit—come on—just—"
Iona rounded the screen.
I froze, making sure to cover my chest before she noticed. The shirt was bunched at my ribs. I could see the angry red lines on my back through the stuck fabric, which was crusted black and weeping where I'd pulled too hard.
"I'm fine," I said. "Go back."
"Sit," she said.
"I've got it —"
"You are making a mess of the floor." Her hands were already working, wrung the cloth in warm water with quick certainty. "Sit on the stool. The fabric must be soaked before it can be pulled. If you tear it you will open every wound on your back."
"I can't —"
"I did not ask you what you can or cannot do. Sit."
I didn't continue arguing. I sat on a stool, my back to the wall. She pressed a cloth against my upper shoulder. I flinched at the heat against raw skin and the pressure on the bruises underneath.
"Hold still," she instructed. "The water must soften the blood before the cloth will lift. If you flinch I cannot work and we will be here until the sun sets and I have other duties that do not involve scraping dried blood off ungrateful men." She kept the fabric in place and waited, moving on to another part. She pressed and soaked, remaining patient despite her recent words. "Olc's handiwork," she remarked. Not a question.
"Yeah."
She peeled a patch of clothing from my body, the fabric separating from my skin with a wet, tearing sound that sent shivers down my spine. "He favors the shoulders. Leaves the face alone when he can. Marks above the collar draw questions. Below, no one sees.”
"Sounds like you've seen a lot of his work."
"The maids in this palace learn to recognize the Commander's work early.” She dipped the cloth, wrung it out and pressed it on a new spot. I gritted my teeth. "This one is festering. When was it made?"
"Three days ago? Four?"
"They left you to rot." She spoke simply, but she handled things more carefully after that. Her touch was lighter over the worst of the wounds. When she reached for the jar on the shelf, she warned me beforehand, something she hadn't done for the first ones. "They starve you and beat you and chain you to a horse and then send you to me to be made presentable. As though soap could undo what they have done. The Commander fancies himself a man of discipline," she stated, applying the balm to a lash mark. "But there is no discipline in what he does. A man who beats a chained prisoner is not strong. He is the worst kind of coward."
“What do you think of the princess?” I heard myself speak.
“I serve the crown, as I have served it since I was old enough to carry a bucket. What I think of those who wear it is my own concern."
I did not speak. The salve burned. Her fingers worked. She pulled the last of the shirt free. The air hit my back, cool and stinging, every wound open and raw.
"There." She dropped the bloody fabric into a pile on the floor and stood. "The bath will sting.” She stepped out of sight, hiding behind the screen. "Wash. Call when you are done. I will wrap the wounds.”
Once she was gone, I lowered myself into the bathtub. The water hit the wounds and I bit back a scream. Then the heat settled in and the dirt started to lift.
"Iona," I called out.
"What is it?"
"Thank you."
A pause from behind the screen. Then: "Save your thanks. I am not doing this out of kindness."
Iona helped me wrap what needed wrapping. She wrapped strips of clean cloth, wound tight around my ribs and across my shoulders, layered over the worst of the cuts. She worked quietly, tying off each bandage with a sharp tug. She'd brought me clean clothes. I pulled them on carefully, the fabric catching on the bandages; every movement hurt.
I stood up. The room began to tilt. My body, which had been running on adrenaline for days, had been cleansed and cared for. It seemed to have realized that it was allowed to experience feelings, and it did so all at once. The cuts from the whip burned beneath the bandages, while the bruises on my ribs pulsed with every breath. My feet, scrubbed raw, stung against the cold stone. My neck, where the collar sat, was an unbroken ring of chafed skin that throbbed when I swallowed. My body was falling apart.
"Slowly," Iona said, her hand under my elbow, steadying me without asking. She guided me to the door.
Olc was leaning against the wall in the corridor.
"Well," he said. His voice made my skin crawl. "I trust the hound was not too rough with you." His gaze traveled down her figure. "Though I imagine a girl like you knows how to handle rough."
Iona looked at the floor. Her hand left my elbow. She stepped back, her shoulders pulling in, making her body smaller. "The prisoner has been bathed and tended as instructed, Commander," Iona said.
"Good. Off with you, then." He flicked his hand. Iona dipped her head and went quickly down the corridor and around the corner.
"Come, runt." Olc pushed off the wall and took my arm, finding the exact spot on my bicep where a new bruise was already blooming. "Her Royal Highness wishes to see her hound,” he leaned close. Close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath. "Enjoy this, worm. The princess's attention is a fleeting thing. Tonight you return to the stable, and I have been thinking all day about what waits for you there." His mouth hovered close to my ear. "You are going to have a very long night."
"Great. Something to look forward to," I quipped.
Olc shoved me forward, and I walked unsteadily, my legs still not fully committed to movement. However, I was upright. The palace corridors moved past me. The stone walls and tapestries, with servants flattened against them as we passed, their eyes cast down.
The entrance was adorned with a wooden door, framed by guards. Olc rapped on the door and a muffled voice from inside. The door opened. I was pushed through and onto the floor.
The princess was standing this time. She turned. The last rays of the setting sun lit her face. She watched me with mild curiosity as I was pushed to my knees.
"Much better," she said. "You are nearly recognizable as a person."
“Gee thanks."
She circled me slowly. “Your hair has color beneath the grime. I had not noticed.” She completed her circuit and stopped in front of me. I could see the stitches in her gown and the faint dark circles under her eyes. Thin veins were visible underneath them. "Now, tell me. How was Iona?"
"Huh?"
"Iona. How did you find her?" The slightest tilt of her head. "Was she to your liking? She is one of the more capable girls in my household. I trust she was... thorough."
Bruh.
"The bath was fine," I said.
"You chose her rather quickly for a man who only wished for a bath." The princess held my gaze for an uncomfortably long time. Then she turned away and moved to her chair. She settled into it. "My hound," she said. "You are loyal. You stepped in front of your brother without hesitation. You ran until your feet bled and did not stop. You are stubborn and rude beyond all measures and you do not break." She paused. "A loyal hound should sleep at the foot of its master's bed."
I stared at her. Her eyes looked back at me with that unreadable, immovable calm.
Olc's face had turned dark red, almost purple, and the veins in his neck were straining against his skin.
"Your Highness,” he said. “I must strongly advise against this. This creature is dangerous. He is violent and unpredictable and his presence in your chambers poses a threat I cannot in good conscience —"
"A threat." The princess's voice was gentle and almost playful. "He weighs half what you do, Commander, and he can barely stand. What threat does he pose? Shall he bleed on me?"
"He bit my men. He is feral and he is not to be —"
"He is my hound and I will keep him where I see fit." She did not speak loudly. "If his presence in my chambers concerns you so deeply, you are welcome to post yourself outside my door. I am certain that if my hound so much as bares his teeth, you will hear it."
His fists were clenched at his sides. His whole body was coiled in fighting and straining against the leash of rank and duty.
"Your Highness," he said once more. "This is not wise."
"I did not ask for your wisdom, Commander.” She smiled with a quick flash of her teeth. “My hound will sleep with me tonight. You are dismissed."
Olc's gaze bore into me. The promise in his eyes was not subtle. He then turned and walked away. "As you wish, Your Highness."
"Come," she said, and without waiting for me, she walked through a different door, not the one I had just entered, but a smaller one, tucked into the far wall, leading deeper into the palace. I attempted to keep up with her before a guard intercepted me.
“You do not walk beside Her Royal Highness." His face was inches from mine, his breath hot through his visor. "You walk behind. Ten paces. At minimum. You do not raise your eyes to her person. You do not address her. ‘You are not a guest,’ he said. 'You are property. Property does not walk beside the crown. The property follows at a distance and is grateful it is allowed to follow at all.'
"That is enough." The princess had stopped. She spoke over her shoulder, her voice carrying an authority that made the guard freeze. "Release him. He is my hound," the princess said, still not turning. "If he strays too close, correct him. But I will not tolerate any further harm to him."
He pulled his hand pulled away from my neck. He took a step back, straightening up.
The princess resumed walking. I followed her, counting her steps, maintaining a safe distance. My throat was still warm from where the guard's hand had been.
She didn't bother glancing behind her. She didn't have to. The chain, which they had removed before my bath, and the collar. I hadn't noticed when it happened, which said something about how far gone I was. I was still a prisoner. I was still sleeping on the floor. But I could turn my head without metal biting into my throat, and that alone made me want to cry. It was pathetic, but I was so tired.
She stopped at a door, larger than the others, dark wood, carved with flowers. She pushed it open. A bed: huge, curtain-enclosed, covered in furs and linens that looked softer than anything I'd ever touched. There was a fire in the hearth. A table with a mirror stood next to it. The walls were lined with books. Rugs adorn the stone floor.
Near the bed, a woman was waiting.
Her hair was streaked with gray and pulled back tightly. She was older. Her face, though impassive, betrayed a sense of disapproval.
"Muime," the princess said, and the word came out softer than anything I'd heard her say before.
"Your Highness." Muime lowered her head, keeping her eyes on me for a moment before returning them to the princess. "The bath has been drawn as you requested. The oils are prepared."
Behind Muime, two younger girls stood at the edges of the room. They were barely older than teenagers, and their hands were clasped and their eyes wide. One held a brush, the other folded linens. They gazed at me with the same cautious curiosity as a pair of rabbits might observe a fox.
"Good," the princess replied, and moved to the center of the room. The two attendants approached the princess and Muime instructed them with subtle movements, a nod this way, a tilt of the head that way. They began to unfasten the laces of her outer garment, gradually loosening its grip on her back. The fabric slid effortlessly off her shoulders, neatly folded, and was set aside.
I watched the wall as she undressed. I could hear the rest of it: the rustle of fabrics and Muime's quiet voice giving instructions.
"The left sleeve first. Gently, the clasp is bent."
"I will speak to the seamstress.”
Then came brushing. The long, rhythmic strokes through her hair, the gentle scratch of bristles. One of the young maids, apparently, while Muime tended to something else.
"Not so hard, child. She is not a horse."
"Sorry, Muime."
"The ends first. Always the ends first. Then the crown. I have told you this."
The powdering. The pressing of something against the skin. The scent of lavender in the air.
"Your Highness." Muime's voice had softened. "The boy."
"What of him?”
"He will sleep here? In your chambers?"
"At the foot of the bed. As I told the Commander."
Silence.
"You have seen what the Commander has done to him," the princess said. Her voice was low. Not for my benefit, I was sure. “He is half dead and unarmed. What do you imagine he will do?"
"I imagine nothing."
The princess said nothing for a moment. Then, softer: "He will not harm me, Muime."
"You speak with certainty about a man you do not know," she murmured. "Very well. I will leave a candle lit. And the door will remain unlocked. The guards are three steps away."
"As they always are."
"Yes. As they always are."
The rustling quieted. The routine was ending. I watched them help her into bed, pulling the blankets back as they did so. Then footsteps: Muime and the two girls moving toward the door. One of the young maids brushed past me, her gaze darting in my direction, her step quickening as she passed. The other girl kept her head down, her chin tucked, avoiding me altogether.
Muime stopped at the door. She looked at the princess, already settled in the bed, her hair brushed and loose against the pillows, holding a book.
"Good night, Muime," she spoke.
The handmaiden held her breath for one more moment. Then, with a look of warning, her gaze found mine.
"Good night," she said.
The trio exited, and the door closed behind them.
The room was silent, except for the faint sound of a page being turned.
"You may rest. Tomorrow will be long."
I made my way to the foot of the bed. There was a thin and worn mat, pressed into the stone floor. I sank onto it, and every joint in my body creaked in protest. The mat was hard and smelled like dog, yet it was the most comfortable surface I had touched in days.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since I'd arrived in this dream, I slept without fearing what would happen when I woke up.