Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 8

Ruben leads me through the servants' quarters, past many more rooms – offices, bed chambers, storage closets, parlours – until he pulls up short in front of a wooden door with a polished bronze handle. His uniform clinks as he raises his fist and knocks.

"Larissa!" Ruben calls through the thick mahogany door.

"Come in, my lord," a meek voice calls back.

He hastens inside, and I scurry after him. I find myself in a large dressing room bathed in sunlight. There is a bathtub, raised on curled marble legs, sitting on the left side of the room. A vanity with a gleaming, round mirror is pushed against the furthest wall. An open, walk-in wardrobe flanks the other side of the room, an array of clothing and materials spilling from the shelves and racks. I finally catch my reflection for the first time in over a week. Scrawny, bony, and smudged in dirt and dried blood; I look like they dragged me from the gutters. My hair is a wild, flaming mess. I traipse over to the mirror. Hollow, frightened eyes. The dark circles beneath make the grey colour look like a swirling, ominous storm.

"Thanks, Larissa. You're about to do the Gods' work," Ruben pipes up, and I forgot he was lurking behind me.

He nods at me before stalking out of the room.

Anxiety creeps into my gut like maggots to a corpse. I flick my gaze to Larissa, whose mouth opens and closes as if she's unsure what to make of me or what to say.

"Prince Talin said I need to help you look your best," she says finally, offering a sheepish smile.

Larissa is tall and slim, with an oval, slender face. She has wound her brown hair into a thick braid down her back, and even though she doesn't look more than a few years older than me, lines crease the skin between brows, as if they have never known how to relax.

I grimace, stifling a laugh. "It might take more effort than you think. For that, I am sorry."

She waves her hand. "None of this is your fault."

Larissa's brown eyes hold mine before she smooths down her grey frock. Water gushes into the tub as she sprinkles in some powdery crystals, and a floral scent disperses into the air. She grins at me with yellowed teeth before clapping her hands together. The door crashes open, followed by a flurry of five other women, dressed in the same grey frock with a white apron pinned to their waist, and a corset beneath the dress. They are all Convex. They descend on me like vultures, stripping the ragged, dirty clothes from my body and ushering me into the tub.

I hiss as the water scorches my cold toes but soon sigh as it seeps into the pores of my skin and loosens my taut muscles. Soap bubbles grow around me into tiny mountains, floating on the water's surface. The women scrub me down with soft, sudsy sponges, and wash my tangled, oily hair. I resist the urge to tell them I can do this all by myself.

I sit there, letting them dunk my head under the water and rinse me with fresh water. All the while, they chirp at one another like gossiping birds.

"Did you see the prince in the hallway?" one of them says, voice shrill, glancing around as she absentmindedly runs a razor blade over my bare legs.

The girls respond with giggles and gushes.

"He smiled at me when he passed. He's so handsome," the same girl says.

"I think we have a bond," another says. "He always greets me by name. Maybe one day he will tell me about his name on our wedding night."

"I wonder what it is," another girl chimes in, grinning.

"I'll tell you as soon as I know."

They giggle, and the sound makes the corner of my lip twitch up. But I cannot help but wonder why he told me. Ruben. A secret. My secret. He must have just told me because he thought they were going to kill me. It must be hard to keep your identity from everyone. But here I still am.