I wanted to tell him the truth, that I was making these things happen. If I didn’t, he could end up imprisoned for lying to the king. Or worse. But I couldn’t forget what had happened in the wagon. If he found out, would he do to me what he did with all things he believed stirred the elements? Tie me up like the bones in his hair or drink my blood like the snake in the woods?
“Come in already,” he fussed at someone in the hallway.
A flustered girl with wheat-colored hair weighed down by grease, wearing a dismal gray smock, entered the room carrying a tray. A basket of bread, manchet if my nose was to be trusted. As she set it down on the small table near the fireplace, water sloshed out of the pitcher, missing the tray, spilling on the floor.
Xavier snapped, “Clean that up. Can’t have my assistant’s room a slippery mess.”
I wiped it with my sleeve.
“Stop that! Maggie, we are honored guests in King Umbert’s castle. You must start acting like you understand that.”
I knocked the pitcher over. Water spilled everywhere. “Honored guests aren’t locked in their rooms!”
“Ungrateful child! I have given you everything! Protected you. Sheltered you. Fed you!” Xavier yelled. “You will not ruin this for me.” He tore the red dress off the screen and tossed it at me. I let it fall to the floor.
Fine linen. Beaded blue thread, but it was a color I would never wear. I examined the other two. The yellow with puffed sleeves and wide cuffs would be kindling as soon as Xavier left, but the last, the simple pale blue, wasn’t horrible.
Xavier saw dissent on my face. He picked up the dress off the ground and hung it over the screen. “The red. Put it on. It pays homage to our host.”
The girl shifted the screen, revealing a steaming wooden tub. She poured oil from a small red bottle into it.
“Did you come into my room while I was asleep?” I asked her.
She nodded and set the bottle down.
“We’re to be at the tournament in precisely one hour. This one”—he tilted his head at the girl—“is here to help you look presentable. Her name is Petal. She doesn’t speak.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. You can ask her when I leave. Oh! And the king has ordered a private performance. Tomorrow night. You will be assisting me.”
Petal went about setting pristine white towels and a comb on a small chair beside the tub. She wasn’t leaving anytime soon. I would have to wait to talk to Xavier.
“The second day of the tournament begins soon. I will walk with King Umbert, Prince Jori, Laird Egrid, and his family. Sir Raleigh will escort you when you’re finished.”
With everyone out at the tournament, many of the guards included, this would be my best chance to sneak out of the castle and find her. Along the way, I could attempt something else. All at once I remembered this magic belonged to Xavier, and him alone. I would have to be covert in any practice. But that could be fun too.
“I wasn’t bred for all of this, Xavier. Why don’t I stay here? That way, you won’t worry about me embarrassing you,” I said, peeking in the basket. It was manchet.
Xavier slapped at it, dumping the lovely breads on the floor. “I’ve had enough disobedience from you over the past two days to last a lifetime. You will be on the balcony, with the king and his son, and you will do everything you’re told, or there will be consequences!” He spun on his polished black heel and stormed out without so much as a glance back.
I picked up the manchet, about to hurl it at the door, but it smelled heavenly. I shoved the whole thing in my mouth, letting crumbs dribble all over.
“Don’ clea’ dat up.” The p spat bits all over the floor.
Petal shook her head, wiped the ground with a wet cloth, and grabbed my wrist.
“Hey . . .”
For a four-foot bag of bones, she had a deadly grip. She led me to the steaming tub.
“A bath? Why won’t you just speak to me?”
Her mouth opened. There was no tongue.
“I, um, see. King Umbert’s cruelty knows no bounds.”
Petal’s wide-eyed, weary gaze shifted to the door. She clapped her hands, sounding an alarm of sorts. Then she thrust her arms at the tub, gesturing to get in, stamping her little bare foot, pushing on my back. Truth was, I couldn’t wait to sink into it. Spending most days and nights on the move, we bathed in whatever cold rivers and lakes we happened upon. Only on days when we performed did we have a roof over our heads, and never with a tub inside the room. This was a gift from the gods and I was more than happy to take it.
I dropped my clothes in a pile on the floor and dipped my toe in the bath. The temperature was perfect. Rose petals floating on the surface parted as I sank in. Hot water against the skin was something I’d only experienced once before when we found a hot spring in the West, on the edge of the craggy hills.
Petal pressed the top of my head, dunking me under. I shot out, thinking she was going to drown me, but her weapon of choice wasn’t water. Initially, it was a bottle of astringents, followed by oils, all massaged into my hair and rinsed. Then came the blasted comb. She picked every section, working through knots, then lost patience and ripped heaps out.
“And they say draignochs are dangerous!”
When she grabbed a bar of soap and scratchy towel, I took them from her. “I can do this myself, thank you!”
By the time I was done, the bathwater had turned gray from all the dirt I’d brought back with me from the journey. Afterward, she wrapped me in a linen towel, and, through painful gesturing, told me to sit before the fireplace and not move. She braided my hair and picked over and under my nails.
I was then finally allowed to get dressed. She brought me a new shift. Linen so soft it felt like new skin. Then the blue dress. Xavier could protest all he wanted. I would never wear the king’s colors.
Petal drew the laces tightly over my chest. She crossed the room to the wardrobe and returned with a brand-new pair of shiny black leather boots that fit perfectly.
“How did they know my size?”
She picked up my old pair of boots.
“You came into my room while I was asleep and did all of this?”
She nodded.
“How could I not hear you?” I glanced back at the bed and cursed. “Damn thing left me unconscious.” I vowed to sleep on the floor tonight, if I was still here.
As I slid my dagger into the top of my boot, Petal pushed the screen aside. She pulled open the wardrobe. Mounted to the door was a mirror. I padded over slowly, staring at my reflection. Petal waited, fishing for a compliment. I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. She was too pretty, too sophisticated, and much too clean.
A costume. I stood taller and stuck what little bosom I had out, but I didn’t look very convincing. “A lady, I am not, and honestly never wanted to be,” I told Petal.
She let out an aggrieved breath, wrenching my shoulders back.
Someone rapped on the door. “Maggie. It’s Sybil. Sister of the Lady Esmera. Um . . . may I come in?”
She entered uninvited. Her footsteps made no sound at all. In lavender that highlighted her pale skin and red hair, she stood in the middle of the room with her shoulders back, her clasped hands at her waist, the picture of nobility. “Goodness, you scrub up well. My sister will be most put out.” She smirked in a way that made me think the thought of that appealed to her. “That blue is lovely on you too. It brings out your eyes.”