Shadows of the Past

Eighteen

My eyes opened to stare at the outer brick of the fireplace. The cracks of mortar were blurry jagged lines and I found it extremely difficult to focus on the details in the grit of each brick; they appeared smooth yet fuzzy at the same time. It took me a moment to realize I had been woken by the sound of water running, heavy enough to be not a sink faucet, but a bath being drawn.

Grunting, I lifted my head off of the rug, my cheek tingling so that I was sure there was an imprinted carpet pattern my skin sported. It took more effort than I was expecting, and pushing myself up off of my stomach and to my knees was almost excruciating, leaving me panting for breath.

"Morning." Scarlet's voice echoed past the ringing in my ears as she passed me. She did not stop to help me up.

"How-" My tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth. I scraped it against my teeth and tried again. "How long was I out?"

My question was met with silence, only the running water from behind me was there. I lifted my head to see where she went, and that was when she walked out of the closet with green fabric draped across her arm. I furrowed my brow, my confusion not helping with the pounding in my head. Yesterday, that closet had been vacant.

"About ten hours. Give or take." She sauntered past me into the bathroom, but I caught a better look at her before she did once my eyes focused more.

Scarlet had changed clothes since I saw her last, and was now clad in a simple grey cotton dress with capped sleeves and a black belt cinched around her waist. Her long brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail that swayed with every step. I was one hundred percent positive the queen requested that outfit to effectively label her as a maid. Scarlet must be seething underneath that stony expression she always wore.

She poked her head around the doorframe. "Time to get up. Breakfast is soon, and I don't think Her Majesty will appreciate if you called down sick on your first day here."

I didn't like how flat and light her voice was. Even though usually those sharp jabs and ridiculous nagging with her obnoxious voice were directed at me with full intent to harm, at least it wasn't boring. At least it had been Scarlet.

This, whatever was speaking to me, drawing my bath, taking care of me, fetching my clothes, prepping me for breakfast with a queen. . . wasn't Scarlet.

I managed to stand, with effort and more labored breathing, but I did it without help—not that she would be willing to help me anyway—and I stumbled to the bathroom. When I nearly slipped on the polished flooring, nimble but sturdy hands caught my shoulders and helped me to the edge of the tub.

"Thanks." I gasped as I sat on the rim. She didn't answer, but moved her hands from my shoulders to my waist where she grabbed the hem of my shirt. My hands grabbed hers.

"I can undress myself."

She rolled her eyes, "Emerald, my job now is to take care of you."

I pushed her away. "Okay, well," I said, "I'm giving you a small break. I can bathe myself."

She didn't fight me and stepped out of the room, sliding the door shut as she went. It wasn't that I didn't want her seeing me without clothes on, I didn't care about that. She didn't care about that. I just knew how much she resented me, and the thought of her helping me into the bath seemed excessive and futile.

It didn't matter though, anyway, because when I finished washing off the dirt from my skin, she came back in and helped me out of the tub. Unfortunately, and slightly humiliatingly, I had to call her in for help because I found myself too weak to lift myself from the water with my upper body.