The maid carefully spreads the thick, sticky substance all over my the front of my calf. I brace myself for the pain--I mean, she's already done this to my arms, back and other leg, so I should get used to it by now--
"OW!" I can't control myself; it's too much pain.
"Shh!" snaps the maid behind me, who is tending to the tangled hair on my head, trying to brush it out somehow. She's been the most frustrated out of the five other women taking care of me, probably because I kept moving my head when she was washing it with that strange scented soap.
I look over at my leg where the wax used to be, and it still shocks me how the hair is completely gone. It was like magic. Painful magic. I've read about using wax for hair removal before, but we never had it back at home. I might've used it if we had it back then, but this experience kind of ruined it for me. They waxed my entire body. I'd never wish this torture on anyone.
Let's just say, this isn't where I was expecting to end up when I was told they were "moving me". I thought I would just go to a worse jail cell, or be thrown into a coffin or something. Nothing like where I am now. As soon the guards dropped me off, five young maids in black and gold uniforms opened my cage, seized me, stripped me naked and threw me into a hot bath, where I had the blood, dirt and filth washed and scrubbed off my body, so hard I felt like my skin would peel off. Then after that they handed me a towel and rushed me to a small dressing room, where the shelves were covered in fancy cosmetics and scented soaps and the windows had silky, dark green drapes--a much, much prettier room than my jail cell, I can say.
Understandably I suspicious as hell, but then I noticed that when they were bathing me they avoided my thigh wound--instead, one of the maids tended to that by herself, cleaning it, adding medicine and wrapping it up in a bandage. Wasn't it the king who opened my wound and ruined it in the first place? If he's the one ordering this now (which he has to be, no other person has the authority to let prisoners come and go), why is my injury being treated? Or a better, more obvious question: Why is this even happening right now???
I've been thinking about that long and hard, and I've come to a sure conclusion: I'm going to see and meet the Blood King again, for whatever reason. I'm being cleaned and dolled up so I can look presentable to him; it's disrespectful to appear in front of such royalty looking dirtier than a pig pen. Once I get to him, though, I'm not sure what'll take place.
Is he going to sentence me to an execution because of my out-of-line behavior? That seems most likely.
I tell myself this was bound to happen eventually. I just need to accept whatever happens. Try not to think about it yet. Try not to think about it yet.
Suddenly the door to the room bursts open; it's another maid, panting and catching her breath, probably from running. "You aren't done?!" she gasps to the other workers. "Hurry and clean up!! Court Lady Lon is almost here!"
A flash of panic flies across everyone's faces, and they all rush to put the supplies away. One of them (I think she was the one who took measurements for my body) helps me stand myself up and face the door. I've barely secured the towel around my body before the door swings open.
Before us stands an older, middle-aged woman, with a stern, serious face and a sharp look in her eye. Her dress, gold and dark green like the drapes on the windows, is elegant but not extravagant; she wears no jewelry either, and her graying hair is up in a tight bun. The maid said "court lady"--that means she isn't a royal or noblewoman. She's just a personal assistant, one who usually attends to those kind of people. She isn't of a high rank, but she's higher than the maids, who are all standing behind me with their heads bowed towards the her direction, not moving a muscle.
The court lady takes a few steps towards me and begins to look me up and down. Her face is expressionless but I can tell she's analyzing and scrutinizing every single aspect of my face and figure. The longer she examines me the more anxious I feel. She holds my chin in her hands, runs her fingers through my hair, feeling its texture. "Remove the towel," she commands.
Wait hold on--
The maid behind me snatches the towel off my body, and there I am, bare naked in front of people I don't even know. Great.
The maid who took my measurements hops over to the older woman and gives her a piece of paper, which I'm assuming she recorded the results on. The woman begins to circle me. I have a feeling she doesn't like what she's seeing. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I have no figure; my chest and hips are naturally voluptuous. Even after the weight I lost after starving in that cell, the curves still remain. I'm quite fond of the way I look, but the problem is, my body and my features aren't exactly the Valon ideal. Men here like smaller women, with lighter hair and paler skin. I'm just the opposite: My skin is tanned and bronze, and my hair is dark and wild. My mother always insisted I was just as beautiful as anyone else, but I doubt a lady-in-waiting like the one before me, who's lived among fair, elegant, noble people her whole life would think the same way as my mother.
The woman gives me one last good look until she finally turns away.
"Loria, say behind and assist me. The rest of you are free to go," she tells her maids.
They bow to her and scurry out of the room, one by one in a line, looking relieved.
The woman closes the door, leaving just us three in the room. "Sit," she tells me, and I do. She rummages through a drawer and picks out some strange tools, as well as some cosmetics here and there. She turns back to me, but before she can touch me, I move back in my chair. I can't control the words that come out of my mouth.
"Wh-what...what are you doing? What's going on?"
She just looks at me.
"I'm just--I don't get it. H-how do I go from being imprisoned to...to this? I starved and struggled but now I'm washed and cleaned and my wound was tended to? Are you really--are you taking me to him--"
"Silence," the woman cuts me off, looking bored. "I was ordered to have you tended to by my maids and to better your appearance. That is my only purpose here. Do not make things difficult."
I frown and swallow my words. You'd think I'd be able to ask a simple question, right? I mean if I'm going to the king just tell me. What's the point of keeping me in the dark. Honestly. How do you expect me to just take that answer and sit here and let you do whatever you want with me?
Nevertheless I take it and sit there and she does what she wants with me. The court lady tells Loria to fetch something, and she comes back with a dress for me. It's nothing special; just a creme colored gown, covering my body head to toe, full-sleeved and up to my neck. The maid slips it on me, and I'm surprised at how loose and comfortable it is.
The maid switches to doing my hair, re-brushing it, adding oils, tying it up. She's pretty gentle, and that's a miracle considering the jungle that is my hair. On the other hand, the court lady uses some weird tools and substances on my face. I've never worn makeup before, but the richer girls back in my village used to wear it--it was horrific. But I can't just ask her to get the hell away from my face now can I?
I half expect her to put some sort of whitening powder all over my body to cover up my darker skin (that's what the girls back at home did) but she does none of the sort. Perfume is sprayed all over my body, with a lemon-honey-like scent that I don't dislike.I'm given a lotion that I rub into my skin, making it smoother.
Once they're done, Loria hands me some slippers, and I stand up, limping around the room, trying to feel it out. That's when the lady brings out a mirror.
I didn't recognize the person I saw at first, but the more I looked at the reflection, the more I felt it was me. My skin was the same dark tan color, but it's shinier and prettier somehow. My face looks the same as before (well, before as when I lived in the village, not before in the jail cell) but also different. The makeup is barely noticeable but my complexion is clearer, my eyes look bigger and my lips look softer. The gown doesn't necessarily flatter me, but it's one of the nicest things I've ever worn, except for my mothers dress--oh shit.
"Oh my god, oh my goodness, ohhh god--where's my dress? The dress I wore before you came? It was white, kind of bloody, ripped up..." I start pacing, my breathing quickens. "Have you seen it? Is it in here?" I ask the maid, my voice shaking. Oh my god. The maids that cleaned me probably left it in the bath house, they probably threw it away thinking it was trash, oh my god I lost the last thing I told myself I would keep, how could I fuck up so badly--
"Ma'am!"
The maid Loria has me by the shoulders, looking straight into my eyes. I haven't realized that I've fallen to my knees, and my eyes are blurry with tears. She places the dress in my lap, neatly folded and in one piece. "We left it in the cupboard for you, we wished to return it to you later."
I sigh a long breath of relief. I hug my dress and thank her, trying not to lose it and start crying. I stand back up compose myself.
It hits me that, obviously now, I can't carry this dress with me everywhere. I'm bound to lose it sometime, but I won't get rid of it myself, no way. Then I get a dumb idea.
"Can you keep this with you?" I stumble standing up, limping towards Court Lady Lon. "It may be asking a lot, but it's extremely important to me, and now I can't just carry it with me all the time and I have nowhere to put it where it will be clean and safe, so could you--"
The woman just looks at me, quiet, observing. Then, after what feels like a long time, she takes the dress out of my hands and places it in the drawer behind her. Phew. I try not to hug her. "Thank you, thank you so much."
Loria pats me on the back, trying to comfort me. It's obvious she pities me, and where normally I'd be annoyed, now I appreciate it. These two women are probably the nicest people I'll encounter before I meet the Blood King, before I'll (most likely) be put to death.
They tell me my escort is coming, and try and slow my breathing, try to keep calm.
There's a knock on the door; Court Lady Lon hits my back, and I straighten my posture. "Come in," she says.
In walks my jail cell guard, the boy with the scar on his face, who took me here earlier today. (It's strange that he's alone, and not with other soldiers like earlier, but that's probably not important I suppose). He bows to the court lady, then walks behind me and pushes me out the small room, into the hallway.
Leaving the dressing room immediately makes me uncomfortable, a bit nauseous. I wanted to at least bow to the court lady and the maid, thank them properly. Now I'm being quickly pushed down a long, narrow hallway, the boy's hand firmly gripping my shoulder so I can't try to get away.
Moving at this fast pace is hard for me; the more I walk the more my thigh stings. I guess it showed on my face, and the boy suddenly stops in the middle of the hall, letting me catch my breath.
My hand falls to find my knees, and I take few deep breaths. He doesn't let go of me, but his grip loosens. I stand back up, and before we can start walking again, I open my mouth.
"Where are you taking me." I raise my voice and turn back to the boy, looking him straight in the eye. He's much taller than I expected, and up close I see his eyes are actually a dark, dark blue, so dark it could be black. He's actually pretty intimidating, but for some reason that makes me want to run my mouth more.
"Hello? Where are you taking me. I mean, I already figured it out, but just to confirm my suspicions--actually, where's that cage you put me in earlier? Why aren't you moving me around in that?"
He sighs, annoyed. "Whatever you think it is, is whatever it'll be."
I'm monotone in my reply. "Oh! So I am meeting the Blood King! How exciting. You wouldn't happen to know why, now would you?"
"No, I wouldn't." He drags me along the hall again, shushing me when I open my mouth. But I can't help and notice that his grip isn't tight like before, and he's moving more cautiously, probably to ease the pain of my injury.
I can't exactly stop to admire my surroundings, but from what I do catch, the walls are a glistening gold, the ceiling has paintings all over it and a chandelier every couple meters. There aren't any people around--most likely because when I look through the windows, it's surprisingly dark out. Those same windows are covered in dark green silk drapes.
After a while of taking sharp turns left and right, we suddenly stop. In front of us now is a portrait of the current king--eyes dark and cold, hair long and black, a sword in his hand. He doesn't look like how I remember him, but even so, chills cover my entire body. I'm nauseous again, and I try not to shake.
There's a room a few steps away from us, and I'm sure I'm going in there. I try not to freak out.What kind of room is it? Is the man himself behind that door? What'll happen once I go in there?
"Hey."
The boy takes me by my shoulders, looking down at me. I've been holding my breath for a while now, and I start hyperventilating. My eyes get teary again. Just thinking of my last encounter with that man is making my blood curdle. I don't want to go in there, I don't want to go through those doors--
"Hey."
He shakes me a little, and I into his face. His eyes are soft, unlike before; he looks concerned. "Take a deep breath," he whispers.
I do, and he oddly enough breathes with me, in and out, in and out. I've calmed down a little bit.
"Listen...you...that man is scary, I know." His voice is soothing and sincere, a pleasant sound. "Just...be careful."
I swallow nervously, and reluctantly I nod.
The boy gives my shoulder a squeeze, and knocks on the door.
It opens, and I step in.
The door closes behind me, and there I stand, alone, in a cold, pitch black room.