Dragon Rose(13)

“Your wardrobe is here,” Sar said, flinging open the doors of a cabinet equal in scale to the bed. From within I saw the gleam of expensive silks and damasks, and even the glint of silver and gold trim. She eyed me carefully and said, “I’ll have Jaenne take up the hems. You’re not as tall as the last one.”

Last one? I swallowed at the implication and asked, “You mean…these were worn by the other Brides?”

She shrugged. “Some. We add some new and remove the older ones as necessary. Styles change…hems get worn.” Another flicker of those keen dark eyes, and she added, “Good thing you’re slender. We had a plump one some twenty years ago, and had to make up a whole new set. He was not happy.”

One might think a Bride-devouring Dragon would be pleased with a chubby girl, but I knew better than to say such a thing aloud. I also tried not to think too much about what it would feel like to wear clothing that had belonged to a parade of other women, all now dead. Well, perhaps I could try to select only the ones in the most recent styles. At least that way they most likely would only have been worn by one predecessor.

Sar went on to show me the well-appointed little bath chamber—“hot water is on its way up”—and then proceeded, after another quick look at me, as if to reacquaint herself with my dark eyes and hair, to lay out a very fine gown of rich wine-colored damask, its square neckline and detachable sleeves trimmed in flat gold braid and what looked like tiny rough-cut garnets. With the gown went a chemise of linen so fine one could see the light through it, and then silk hose and ribbon garters to hold them up.

“You’ll have to make do with your own shoes for now,” she said. “I’ll have more ordered, but he won’t want to wait on that…let me see them.”

At once I grasped my skirts and lifted them slightly so she could see my slippers. Odd how I did not entertain the notion of defying her, of saying my footwear was of no concern to her. She had about her a manner that brooked no argument.

Luckily, my shoes were fairly new, and fine enough, smooth black kid with lacings of silk ribbon. Quite the extravagance at the time, I had thought, but they had been purchased when my mother thought I had the prospect of a rich husband before me, and she had brushed aside my protests that something less costly would be more than adequate.

Well, I was about to have a rich husband, although not the one either she or I had imagined…

Sar gave an approving nod at my footwear and appeared about to speak when there was a knock at the door. At once she called out, “Bring it in!”

From the main chamber I heard the faint squeak of door hinges, followed by the shuffling of several pairs of feet. Those feet turned out to belong to two sturdy-looking manservants, each bearing a large ewer of water from which faint curls of steam emerged. Sar directed them into the bath chamber, where they poured the water into the tub. Then they hurried out, having unburdened themselves.

During this entire procedure neither one of them looked at me, even though I stood off to one side and watched the entire procedure with some sympathy. I knew just how heavy those ewers of water could be, and I only had to carry them up one flight of steps back home. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to bring them all the way here, to my aerie in the Dragon’s tower.

“Half an hour,” Sar informed me. “Everything you need is in the bath chamber. And then I’ll return to help you get ready. The ceremony is set for sundown.”

Which was still many, many hours off at this time of year. I knew better than to argue, however, and only nodded. She sniffed, which might or might not have signaled her approval, and then left.

Much as I wanted to go to the window and gaze out on the amazing prospect it offered, I knew that doing so would only allow my bath to grow cold. It didn’t seem quite right, after those poor servants had hauled it all the way here, and so I went on into the bath chamber.

There was no way of latching the door, which did little to soothe my nerves. I settled for taking the little table that stood under the window and placing it up under the door handle. It seemed a fragile enough barrier, but it was better than nothing.

And then I stepped out of my shoes and my stockings, and carefully removed my gown and chemise. Luckily, the gown laced up the sides instead of the back—my mother knew better than to have us wear gowns that required assistance to get in and out of them—so extricating myself from it was not difficult. I draped it over the cross-backed chair of mahogany that stood off to one side, and then lowered myself into the tub.

It did feel good, to have the warm water surround me, washing away the dust of the trail and the sticky feeling from wearing too warm a gown on too hot a day. The heat did not seem as if it would be a problem up here in Black’s Keep. Indeed, I wondered what a winter here must feel like.

If I lasted until winter, of course.

I pushed that thought away and applied myself to scrubbing my limbs and back with the brush and soap provided, and washing my hair with a rinse that smelled of mint and something else, something sweet I couldn’t quite place. Truly, it was quite a luxury to have a bath so soon after my last one—which had only been the night before. At home I wouldn’t have had the opportunity for another two or three days.

There was no clock in the chamber, and so I had no very good idea of the passage of time, but I tried to hurry things along as best I could. There were a number of towels provided, thick and very soft, and I dried myself off and went out into the bedchamber to retrieve the chemise and other underthings from where they had been laid out on the bed.