5 Making Her Ready For the Prince (1/2)
The maid dumped a pail of near boiling water over Isilla's head. She shouted but the maids couldn't hear her, no one could. She gritted her teeth and bore the pain as they scrubbed at her. She had tried to speak with them but she could find nothing to write with and the women did not appear to be interested in communicating with her. The bath too hot bath water, soapy and heavy with some scent, turned her honey skin red.
The women who attended her were not noble. Even with her limited knowledge of life in the court, she was sure that these women were as common as she had been raised.They were older, hard women. Classless and mean with years of hardship and pain. Isilla felt no ill will towards them even as they tugged at the curls in her hair, attempting to brush them out. She had long since given up trying to stop them or convince them that she could wash herself.
The women chatted between themselves, each of them touching some part of her so they could hear one another, clearly versed, at least, on what she was. Isilla pulled her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut as they tugged and pulled at her hair.
”Can you believe Prince Arren married this one?” one said.
Another made a dismissive noise deep in her throat, ”There's no understanding royals, I tell you.”
”A mute of all things! Whoever heard of a royal so afflicted?
”Well you know the Light Realm. All love and life,” the woman had a mocking tone in her voice, ”Here the little mute would have been drowned if she had been born to our King.”
She hugged her knees tighter and the women laughed as they yanked at her hair.
The water had cooled to almost cold by the time the three women felt they had done enough. They pulled her up roughly and wrapped her in a soft towel.
They opened the door that lead out of the bathroom and into the bedroom ushering her out. One of them placed her on a stool in front of the vanity.The women puttered around behind her gathering underthings and clothing. She reached out and ran her fingers over the boxes that adorned the table. She opened one and gasped at its contents.
It was full of glittering jewelry. She opened the next and found the same. Silver with heavy emeralds. Gold chains with tiny rubies. She shut the boxes quickly before the maids came back for her.
One tsked at her sounding for all the world just like Haribit used to. A small wave of sadness crashed into her, shaking it off she stood and smiled at the women hoping that her friendly face would turn the woman gentler.
”Look at this hair! Curls right back up when it dries,” she almost yelled back at her fellows. Isilla touched the still wet bits of her hair. The woman took another towel and begun to dry her hair, her strong squeezing out the water until all that was left was a slightly damp cloud of red curls.
She tsked again and began braiding it singing slightly to herself. The other two women were busy cleaning and drying the bathroom. In the mirror she could see as one left the bathroom with the dress she had come in in arms. She dropped it into the laundry.
Isilla closed her eyes, I will never see that dress again, she thought as the woman behind her twisted and braided her hair into submission. The braids pulled at her scalp.
”There,” the maid said stepping back to admire her work. Isilla looked at her reflection. Her hair was twisted and piled on her head in much the same fashion that the ladies in the court had worn.
She frowned at her reflection and touched the braids gently.
”Let's get her dressed then so we can be done with this,” the woman said. The other two nodded. They moved to help her into her under things but she quickly snatched them out of their hands and put them on herself. The women shrugged and handed her a thin shift sewn with light beading. She pulled on the nightgown before she turned to the mirror again and blushed. The thin fabric did not leave anything to the imagination. But then again, it was her wedding night.
One of them pulled a heavy purple robe over her shoulders.