Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(22)

Two men brought in a copper tub and carried it past the carved door at the rear of the antechamber, which led to, I presumed, my bedchamber. Following the tub came an onslaught of male servants carrying buckets of steaming water. Their eyes strayed to me and some slid down the length of my body. Worse was the way their energy made my skin tingle and my mouth water. I swallowed hard and tore the string from my sleeve as I rushed to wrap my arms around my torso. Heat flamed my cheeks. Was I expected to bathe with everyone here? I was used to doing so with Romska girls and fledgling Auraseers, but not while a host of curious men surrounded me—some boys younger than myself. Who knew what strange customs awaited me and my new status?

I nearly wept with relief when a wiry, black-haired woman clapped her hands and shooed out the men after a little boy hefted in the last bucket. He tripped over his shoes as he scurried out the door and gave me one final look of wonder. The door shut, and I was left with six blessedly female companions. The wiry woman motioned to the others, and they swarmed around me. In moments they had me undressed, naked, save for the black ribbon around my wrist, and shivering under their collective scrutiny.

Too young. Too thin. Too dirty. My imagination supplied their thoughts, and from what I sensed in their auras, I wasn’t too off the mark.

The wiry woman pursed her lips. “I am Lenka, Head Maid of the Sovereign Auraseer. I served Izolda before you.” Her jaw ticked and a pang of sorrow constricted my chest. Perhaps they had been friends. The sensitive moment passed. Lenka’s gaze hardened. I laced my fingers together and strove to appear relaxed with no clothes on.

“You must eat more,” Lenka said sharply, her eyes lingering on my belly.

I blinked. I must eat more? I’d never seen a thinner woman in my life. She was all bones and harsh angles. Even her teeth brought structure to her cheeks in a horselike kind of way. “Yes, about that,” I said, swallowing any tart retorts off my tongue. “I don’t eat meat.”

My maids exchanged blank stares.

“Pardon?” Lenka asked.

I curled one bare foot over the other. “I don’t eat meat, not even fish. So if you could see that my food—”

“We are your personal attendants”—Lenka looked down her nose at me—“not the kitchen staff.”

Her irritation, injured pride, and disregard combined like hot needles jabbing all over my skin. I needed to shake them off and protect myself before I lashed back at her with her own venom. I didn’t wish to make enemies here. I had to think of Dasha and Tola. I had to succeed. Twisting the black ribbon at my wrist, I asked, “Am I to have a bath now?” I looked about the women, but no one held a dressing robe.

Lenka’s nostrils flared. She gave a stiff nod, then clapped. I wasn’t sure if it was a call for me or the other maids to follow, but together we complied.

I gasped as we entered my bedchamber. In a flash, the grandeur of my antechamber was gone. Here everything was a monochrome of browns, from the scuffed floor to the planked wood walls. The space was large and empty, all save the copper tub—a temporary furnishing—and a strange box of a bed in the far right corner.

As the women busied about the tub, testing the water, and pouring in salts and oils, again, I looked for a robe. I suspected the absence of one was a form of Lenka’s cruelty. I’d only spent a few minutes with her and already she didn’t like me. She took no pains to conceal it from her aura. Her aversion shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Even among the tolerant Romska, only one boy, Tosya, had taken the trouble to form a long-lasting friendship with me—the strange girl passed from caravan to caravan every few months in case my ability drew too much attention to their encampments and brought them danger. The Romska had a difficult enough time dodging the law without the worry of harboring an Auraseer, someone who always carried a bounty on her head. Most kept their distance, but not Tosya.

I eagerly awaited every spring when I would join his caravan. He was three years older and two heads taller, and his aura was open and easy. More than that, it was easing. My time with him promised to be full of laughter and adventure. My mad spells diminished when we were together. Maybe he recognized that, and that’s why he endured a little scamp like me. He was a gifted songwriter and even taught me how to read. In the most important ways, Tosya was like a brother, realer than the brother the Romska claimed I once had.

I found a stack of towels behind the tub and wrapped one around myself, since the water was still too scalding to step into. As soon as I’d done so, my attention turned to the peculiar bed in the corner of the room.

It reminded me of a covered carriage without wheels. While the maids laid out silver combs on a tray and added spiced herbs to the bath, my curiosity overcame me. I sneaked over to the bed, climbed the stepping stool, and opened a little door. Four walls and a low roof enclosed the mattress. My chest burned for air just looking at the cramped space. How would I be able to sleep—breathe? Why did Izolda have such a bed?

I poked my head inside, craned my neck around, and stopped short when I spied the inner ceiling. Claw marks raked the wood. They peeled back the paint and dug veritable trenches. Some contained traces of dried blood. My stomach folded with dread. Even the celebrated sovereign Auraseer had her secrets, her own twisted form of emotional release.

“Come.” Lenka clapped at me. “You don’t have time to rest.”

I slid out of the box as if escaping the nest of a viper. “Must I have this bed?”