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Erienne, princess of the powerful Samaria, is faced with one of the most dreaded situations of all time: an arranged marriage. Bound by a blood oath, she marries her unwilling groom. As circumstances shift out of her favor, Erienn...
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ERIENNE AWOKE TO A WONDERFUL SCENT.
Or, rather, a collection of them.
Notes of lavender and citrus wafted into Erienne's nose, and must've invaded her subconscious, because when she was finally awake, she thought she was dreaming. Erienne rose. She could hear the faint sound of running water. Erienne entered the bathroom. She saw a maid knelt over the tub, scattering flower petals and solid cubes of oil into the water. Erienne watched her with scrutiny. The maid did the task without any apparent aggression, and nothing seemed to be out of place.
Nothing looked like a trick. Erienne cleared her throat. The servant leapt from her position.
"Your Grand Highness," she said softly. Her eyes were kept respectfully on the ground Erienne could hardly contain her surprise. This was the first person to ever behave.
"Look here," Erienne commanded. The maid slowly lifted her eyes to her's. They were very blue. And, apparently, very afraid.
"What's your name?" The maid shifted uncomfortably.
"I haven't one ma'am." Erienne raised her eyebrows, not understanding. Then she frowned.
"You're a slave then?" The servant didn't dare break eye contact.
"Disposable," Erienne said, partly under her breath.
"Your Grand Highness?"
"They sent me someone they had no problem getting rid of. Someone they considered rotten. Someone who had to be docile," Erienne answered. She watched the servant's face, searching for any trace of anything.
There was none.
"I suppose, Your Grand Highness, they did," the servant answered quietly. "Would you like to bathe now?" Erienne nodded. In a matter of seconds, the maid was gone. Erienne melted into the warm water. It hadn't been very long since she'd been afforded the luxury, but it felt like it. It was still insulting, she supposed, for them to give her a slave to serve as her staff. Either they didn't trust anyone to serve her without being disobedient, or, they didn't want anyone to be subjected to obeying a black.
"Your Grand Highness?" the maid called from outside the bathroom door.
"Yes?"
"His Royal Henchmen have informed me that Your Grand Highness has twenty minutes before the Council meeting starts."
Royal Henchmen? That was definitely not part of regular royal protocol. It must be an addition by Adrian.
"I've heard."
Erienne reluctantly withdrew from the comfort of her bath and with a towel (this one was notably softer than the one she'd been using the past few days) patted herself dry. She exited the bathroom wrapped in the towel. The maid already had a dress in her hand. It was Weissan style, definitely, made of heavy red silk. Erienne wondered who had selected it for her.
