Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(23)
Lenka’s thin lips curved. “You will want it soon enough.”
I crossed the room to the tub and stepped into the burning water. My heart beat out of cadence. I didn’t dare ask what Lenka meant. Her dark forewarning said enough.
The maids scrubbed me over. They lifted my limbs, dug behind my ears, and washed my hair three times. Had I been so filthy? The scent of juniper and spices wafted from the steam. Despite the thoroughness of my cleaning, the bath was rushed. Just as the water cooled to a desirable warmth, I was prodded out and into a crisp linen shift. Next came a corset, which I wouldn’t let near me (I’d had an encounter with whalebones before, and it was no pleasant thing to feel the death of that beast), and a honey-colored gown of silk, embroidered at the neck and hemline with shimmering white threads. The gown was supposed to be topped by the golden robe of the sovereign Auraseer, but I refused to wear it because it was lined in fur. Lenka’s cheekbones carved into sharper lines as she sucked in her breath with frustration. I promised to wear my token robe in the spring, when I would surely have a fur-less alternative.
My maids next presented my headdress, trimmed with pearls that would dangle down the sides of my face. Unfortunately for Lenka, I declined it, as well, seeing as it was also trimmed in fur where it crowned my head. Several minutes passed before my head maid gave up persuading me to conform. I held my ground. I may be required to sleep in a torture chamber of a bed, but I didn’t need to spend my waking moments feeling death brush my skin. At least I tolerated the foundational dress without any suffering. Some silkworms were boiled alive after spinning their cocoons, but the ones that contributed to my gown must have been allowed to mature into moths and emerge free.
“Let the emperor deal with you!” Lenka threw up her hands. “Only let it be known I did everything in my power to prepare you.”
Unease troubled my blood at her words. She reminded me of Sestra Mirna in that moment, another woman who had tried to prepare me for my destiny and failed, thanks to my own stubbornness. But this is different. This was a simple matter. Emperor Valko might be a tyrant, but surely my clothes wouldn’t infringe on how he ruled his empire or how well I could serve him. “I’ll be certain to tell His Imperial Majesty tomorrow that you had no hand in my shame,” I bit out, Lenka’s irritation finally becoming my own.
She put her hands on her bony, jutting hips. “Did you think we were dressing you for a private supper in your rooms?”
My ribs seemed to close in and smash my lungs and heart. “I’m to meet the emperor tonight?” My voice rose in a pitch near hysterics.
She looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Some seer you are.”
I was too frazzled to be offended. Besides, she was right. Couldn’t I have divined from all the urgency and everyone’s rushed, ill tempers that the ritual I’d been led through wasn’t customary? Had I been so desperate to put off meeting the emperor that I deliberately ignored the obvious?
The six women stood in a semicircle around me. My shoulders felt heavy with fatigue—their fatigue, as well as my own. They had spent their strength wrestling me clean and dressed. Bridling a wild stallion must be easier.
“I’ll wear my hair down,” I announced, summoning my dignity and any remaining vigor I could borrow. If only my ability allowed me to keep their auras in my clutches when we parted. I would need all the fortification I could for this evening. Why in Feya’s name had I ever opened the convent gates? Why hadn’t I listened to Sestra Mirna, to Basil, to all my better instincts, weak though they were?
“The ladies at court wear their hair up,” Lenka replied.
“I am not a lady at court. I am Sovereign Auraseer. And if I cannot wear a headdress, I will let my own hair be my adornment.” I sounded as proud as any queen, but in truth, I was only anxious not to incur the emperor’s wrath at my lack of proper attire.
Lenka studied me. A sense of calm and rightness washed through my chest. She straightened her back. “Very well. You are young, so I suppose loose hair will not be inappropriate. In fact, the emperor might find the virginal effect it lends you pleasing.”
Two of the prettier maids exchanged glances, like they knew something about Emperor Valko we did not. A flood of warmth came to my belly, but I didn’t know if it belonged to the two maids or if it was my own apprehension for this evening.
Lenka clapped. “Step closer to the furnace, and we will dry your hair.”
She didn’t chide me again as the ladies lifted my hair in sections and fanned it near the hot tiles. Once dried, they brushed it with burdock and nettle oil and let it fall in shining waves to the middle of my back. Perhaps Lenka had been testing me all along, waiting to see how far she could push me until I pushed back. Until I proved I might have a spark of Izolda—of greatness—in me.
I only hope it doesn’t cost me my head. I glanced back at the box bed and suppressed a shiver. Or my sanity.
Guided by Lenka as we left my rooms, I passed a gold-framed mirror. I was a different creature than the one who had entered. My head maid was right—I looked pure and undefiled with my hair down, almost like I wore the veil of a bride. But within myself, I felt a murderess’s guilt. If only Lenka knew what I had done. I drew in a deep breath. I wished this unraveling inside me was merely the flutterings of an anxious girl on her wedding day, that the long corridor before me was the aisle of a church leading me to an altar and a groom, not the ruler of Riaznin.