Page 153 of As Above, So Below

“Let’s get you washed up. It will help everything feel right asrain.” She smiles, revealing perfectly even, human teeth. “Then we’ll get you dressed and you’ll be ready to see the Sovereign King again.”

“I don’t have clothing here. Everything I own is at the temple,” I say, lifting my face as she fills a pitcher with water from the running faucet. Which, granted, I don’t own much.

“The Sovereign King already has a wardrobe for you. It’s limited at the moment, but one of the other castle staff will be bringing a selection a little later on,” she says, setting the pitcher down beside her to gather my hair, pulling it all behind me.

I’m not sure why, but the way she fusses over me reminds me of Button, the hen. Button would cluck and croon and titter over the other hens in a motherly way. The thought causes me to laugh. It’s a short-lived laugh as the thought of Button quickly ties back to Cora, and I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.

Who’s going to take care of Button?

Darla?

The other hens?

Artemise doesn’t strike me as the type to care about chickens—not when Cora had to argue to get them. Neither do Aenwyn or Opal. Definitely not Opal.

“Chin up, eyes and mouth closed, Lady Ves,” Oraphia instructs, her sharp tone yanking me from the verge of tears.

I can just imagine how foolish I look—a demon crying over chickens.

I would laugh if it meant I wouldn’t cry.

She pours the water over my head, taking care not to let it pour too heavily over my face. But it wouldn’t matter if it did. The water washes away the few tears that escape my tight hold.

“You’ll have nearly the entire northern wing to yourself,” she says as she begins scrubbing at my scalp with a bar of soap. The scent of lemon and lavender fills my nostrils.

“The king has had it furnished over the last couple of weeks. I believe he anticipated you.”

My brows crease as she works the soap through the length of my hair.

“What do you mean?”

Oraphia laughs, her fingers returning to my scalp. “The north wing has remained untouched since he ascended as Sovereign King. When he gave the order to begin preparing it, the entire castle staff knew it meant someone important was going to be arriving.”

“And you think that’s me?” I laugh with a scoff.

“I do,” she affirms, pouring water over me. “You’re safe to open your eyes again.” Reaching past me, she shuts off the water. “You’re the first female he’s dared share a room with since I’ve been employed here.”

I find that hard to believe and scoff a laugh.

Not with his engagement to Tanila—the stunning creature that she is.

She pauses to reach into a pocket, withdrawing two large black clips.

Placing them between her teeth, she pulls all of my hair into her hands, wringing the excess water free. Piling the silver mass into a loose bun atop my head, she clips it securely in place.

“You take a moment to relax. I need to see if your attire for dinner has arrived.” She quickly crosses the bathing room, closing the door behind her.

Not needing to be told twice, I unfurl my legs and stretch. Leaning back against the tub, I rest my head against the ledge and let my muscles relax. Under typical circumstances, I wouldn’t let Oraphia tend to me, but today… today I’m not going to fight it. No, if Ryc wants his staff to tend to me, I’ll let them.

I don’t have it in me to fight and argue.

My mind is everywhere and nowhere at once and I don’t have the energy or desire to focus. Sadly, I’m not left alone for long. Oraphia returns and begins her assault against the dirt and grime clinging to my body.

By the time she finishes with me, I’m sure I’ve acquired more than one bruise. I endure her methods in brooding silence. Following that degree of torture, she plucks me from the tub, and rubs me down with a soft towel.

It’s rather exposing to have this woman dry me in such a manner, but anytime I reach for the towel, she lightly smacks my hand awaygiving me a ‘tsk’sound. While I understand it’s expected of her, it feeds into the feeling of being useless and incompetent.

Finally, once I’m dry enough to meet her standards, she wraps me in the towel, shoving me into the bedroom proper to stand before the tall mirror. Thinking I’m near finished and simply have to get dressed, my dismay grows when she comes at me with a thick bristled brush and begins tearing it through my hair.