As the women busied about the tub, testing the water, and pouring in salts and oils, again, I looked for a robe. I suspected the absence of one was a form of Lenka’s cruelty. I’d only spent a few minutes with her and already she didn’t like me. She took no pains to conceal it from her aura. Her aversion shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Even among the tolerant Romska, only one boy, Tosya, had taken the trouble to form a long-lasting friendship with me—the strange girl passed from caravan to caravan every few months in case my ability drew too much attention to their encampments and brought them danger. The Romska had a difficult enough time dodging the law without the worry of harboring an Auraseer, someone who always carried a bounty on her head. Most kept their distance, but not Tosya.
I eagerly awaited every spring when I would join his caravan. He was three years older and two heads taller, and his aura was open and easy. More than that, it was easing. My time with him promised to be full of laughter and adventure. My mad spells diminished when we were together. Maybe he recognized that, and that’s why he endured a little scamp like me. He was a gifted songwriter and even taught me how to read. In the most important ways, Tosya was like a brother, realer than the brother the Romska claimed I once had.
I found a stack of towels behind the tub and wrapped one around myself, since the water was still too scalding to step into. As soon as I’d done so, my attention turned to the peculiar bed in the corner of the room.
It reminded me of a covered carriage without wheels. While the maids laid out silver combs on a tray and added spiced herbs to the bath, my curiosity overcame me. I sneaked over to the bed, climbed the stepping stool, and opened a little door. Four walls and a low roof enclosed the mattress. My chest burned for air just looking at the cramped space. How would I be able to sleep—breathe? Why did Izolda have such a bed?
I poked my head inside, craned my neck around, and stopped short when I spied the inner ceiling. Claw marks raked the wood. They peeled back the paint and dug veritable trenches. Some contained traces of dried blood. My stomach folded with dread. Even the celebrated sovereign Auraseer had her secrets, her own twisted form of emotional release.
“Come.” Lenka clapped at me. “You don’t have time to rest.”
I slid out of the box as if escaping the nest of a viper. “Must I have this bed?”
Lenka’s thin lips curved. “You will want it soon enough.”
I crossed the room to the tub and stepped into the burning water. My heart beat out of cadence. I didn’t dare ask what Lenka meant. Her dark forewarning said enough.
The maids scrubbed me over. They lifted my limbs, dug behind my ears, and washed my hair three times. Had I been so filthy? The scent of juniper and spices wafted from the steam. Despite the thoroughness of my cleaning, the bath was rushed. Just as the water cooled to a desirable warmth, I was prodded out and into a crisp linen shift. Next came a corset, which I wouldn’t let near me (I’d had an encounter with whalebones before, and it was no pleasant thing to feel the death of that beast), and a honey-colored gown of silk, embroidered at the neck and hemline with shimmering white threads. The gown was supposed to be topped by the golden robe of the sovereign Auraseer, but I refused to wear it because it was lined in fur. Lenka’s cheekbones carved into sharper lines as she sucked in her breath with frustration. I promised to wear my token robe in the spring, when I would surely have a fur-less alternative.
My maids next presented my headdress, trimmed with pearls that would dangle down the sides of my face. Unfortunately for Lenka, I declined it, as well, seeing as it was also trimmed in fur where it crowned my head. Several minutes passed before my head maid gave up persuading me to conform. I held my ground. I may have to sleep in a torture chamber of a bed, but I didn’t need to spend my waking moments feeling death brush my skin. At least I tolerated the foundational dress without any suffering. Some silkworms were boiled alive after spinning their cocoons, but the ones that contributed to my gown must have been allowed to mature into moths and emerge free.
“Let the emperor deal with you!” Lenka threw up her hands. “Only let it be known I did everything in my power to prepare you.”
Unease troubled my blood at her words. She reminded me of Sestra Mirna in that moment, another woman who had tried to prepare me for my destiny and failed, thanks to my own stubbornness. But this is different. This was a simple matter. Emperor Valko might be a tyrant, but surely my clothes wouldn’t infringe on how he ruled his empire or how well I could serve him. “I’ll be certain to tell His Imperial Majesty tomorrow that you had no hand in my shame,” I bit out, Lenka’s irritation finally becoming my own.
She put her hands on her bony, jutting hips. “Did you think we were dressing you for a private supper in your rooms?”
My ribs seemed to close in and smash my lungs and heart. “I’m to meet the emperor tonight?” My voice rose in a pitch near hysterics.
She looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Some seer you are.”
I was too frazzled to be offended. Besides, she was right. Couldn’t I have divined from all the urgency and everyone’s rushed, ill tempers that the ritual I’d been led through wasn’t customary? Had I been so desperate to put off meeting the emperor that I deliberately ignored the obvious?