Burning To Cinders

Baths and Bastards

It was dark when they arrived. Cindy’s first view of a village outside her own was marred by profound wariness. The torches the guards carried illuminating little of their surroundings and after a cursory glance, she allowed her head slump back down as she vainly tried not to fall asleep in the saddle. They could not be long from stopping now, as the party moved quietly through the cobble stoned streets. Jerking awake by a hand gripping her arm, she realised that she’d begun to slip from her saddle. Her head coming slowly up, travelling up a muscled arm to a tense face, she dully took in Eric glaring fiercely at the Prince. Turning her half lidded eyes to the Prince, on the other side of him, she saw him nod at Eric. Through her fogged mind, she felt herself being lifted and resettled in a warm embrace. Sighing she nuzzled closer into the chest behind her, surrendering herself to the welcome abyss of sleep.

The stream of sunlight that streaked across her face roused her, her eyelids flickering open she lay in hazy contentment, savouring the soft bed at her back and silky sheets that covered her. Tempted by the thought of returning to her sleep, she sighed and pushed back the covers, sitting on the edge of the bed. Stretching out she looked around her room, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember how she’d arrived. The room was simple, the sun that had woken her filtered in through a circular window across from the bed, a white desk sitting empty beneath it. The next wall was lined with a white set of draws and next to her bed were a matching set of bedside tables, also white. The bed beneath her, disordered by her night’s sleep, had a soft pink quilt to match the room’s walls. The room exuded sweetness, a vase of yellow flowers by her bed adding a splash of colour outside pink and white. As her feet rested on the polished wooden boards, she realised- with a wrinkling nose- that she still wore her previous days travel clothes. With the realization her feeling of contentment vanished abruptly, and she could feel the filth that covered her skin. Her clothes were confirmation that she hadn’t arrived here under her own steam, then how? With a blush she realised she must have been carried, by the Prince? She shuddered at the thought of being in his arms, even in her sleep. Pushing the thought away she stood up, wondering how to set about having a bath. No sooner had she moved to the white door did a sharp knock startle her, the door pushing open without pause for answer. Her visitor did not seem surprised that she was standing directly before, just smiled brightly.

“Good morning my dear, I wondered if you’d ever wake!” Blinking, Cindy found herself smiling down at the visitor. An older woman, all flushed cheeks and curly grey hair, the plump woman was tiny but radiated kindness- and surprisingly- authority.

“Good morning, I am sorry if I caused any inconvenience, I was more tired than I thought,” The old woman smiled kindly at her, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Posh! No need to apologise! I saw you come in last night, dead to the world in the young man’s arms,” The old woman dropped with a wink and Cindy blushed, which young man? Swallowing she risked the question.

“The Prince?” She fairly squeaked and the old woman’s brow rose.

“No my dear, unless the Prince turned tall and blond!” Laughing at her own wit, the old lady didn’t notice Cindy’s immense relief, Eric then. The thought still unsettled her. Abruptly the old woman’s laughter ceased, and she turned a critical eye over Cindy. “Now my dear, with so many dashing young men around, you need to look presentable, I shall have a hipbath brought up, one of the maids will draw it,” She said with a decisive nod, turning away before Cindy stopped her.

“Thank you Miss…?” The old woman laughed once more, half turning back with a kind look.

“I have not been called Miss in a long time dear, Mrs Saylers my dear, call me Mrs Saylers,”

“Thank you Mrs Saylers,” The old woman’s eyes were twinkling as she turned away, bustling out into the hall, disappearing down the stairs.

Cindy’s bath hipbath was brought up shortly after by a quiet girl with a shock of red hair, eyes kept firmly downcast. Up and down the girl went, until the hipbath had been filled with warm water. Her final journey she presented a small bundle with a timid voice.