Page 27 of Taming the Eagle
Feign submission, she told herself.Try not to make enemies here on your first day.She needed these people to trust her, to eventually grow complacent about the new addition to their household.
Only then would she be able to escape.
A few yards away, a brown and black striped cat sat upon the pavers, grooming itself. It halted its task upon spying Fenella, its topaz eyes settling upon her.
“You didn’t last long in the pit, did you?” Aedan greeted Fenella in her own tongue as she walked by the well. His accent wasn’t local, the cadence flatter. He wasn’t one of the Damnonii as she’d thought.
“No,” Fenella replied, her own response cool. “I didn’t enjoy sitting in my own filth.”
He huffed a laugh before his gaze raked down over her dirty clothing.
“You’re not from here,” she observed, fighting the urge to scowl at him.
“No, I’m Brigante.”
Fenella cocked her head. The man was some way from home. His tribe dwelled in the lowlands farther south. She wondered how this warrior had ended up the property of the Eagle.
Kahina interrupted them, speaking quickly, her tone hushed yet urgent.
Aedan drawled a reply in Latin.
“What’s she saying?” Fenella asked, frustrated once more that she couldn’t understand.
“She’s told me not to speak to you in our tongue. The general has ordered us only to communicate in Latin.”
Fenella’s mouth flattened. Of course he had.
Leaving Aedan to haul water, Fenella followed Kahina across the courtyard, past a profusion of honeysuckle, and into a wide covered alcove.
She then stopped short, her gaze taking in the large tiled pool before her. Steam wafted off the water, rolling toward her like morning mist from a loch.
Kahina gestured to her, making it clear she was to remove her clothes and climb into the pool.
Fenella tensed. What an odd request. What was this strange place?
Kahina spoke then and repeated the gesture, her dark gaze imploring.
“Very well,” Fenella muttered. “There’s no need to get worked up.” She walked into the alcove and shed her blanket. Then she peeled off her soiled leather vest and skirt, letting them fall around her ankles.
Gingerly, she lowered herself into the water—and sighed.
Gods, this was an experience. She’d never bathed like this before. Fenella had grown up having hasty washes, while shivering, over a bowl of water. In the summer, she bathed in rivers and lochs, but the water was always freezing.
Murmuring in pleasure, she sank down in the warm water, letting it rise to her chin. And as she let the heat infuse her chilled and aching limbs, her eyes fluttered closed.
She hated the Caesars and everything they stood for. But she loved this pool.
She ducked under the water then, swimming like an otter from one side of the pool to the other, before floating on her back.
If she could, she’d stay in here forever.
However, it wasn’t long before Kahina started gesturing again. The slave hovered at the edge of the pool, gaze anxious. She held up a large cloth and handed it to Fenella when she clambered out, dripping water onto the slippery tiles surrounding the pool.
Fenella dried herself off, and then Kahina passed her a pot of what smelled like perfumed oil, and a strange metal instrument. When Fenella merely stared at her blankly, the slave muttered something before taking the pot off her. She dipped her fingers into it and rubbed some oil onto Fenella’s arm. She then picked up the instrument and scraped the oil off.
It dawned on Fenella that she was supposed to do this all over her body.
It was an odd way to clean oneself, but with a sigh, she sat down on the tiles and oiled herself. The scent of rose filled her nostrils, a welcome perfume after the stench of the pit.