Cold Hands, Warm Heart

THREE

In the morning, Ezri woke me by entering my room. "Uh, miss?"

"Oh, Ezri, good morning."

Gwyneira, beside me, started stirring. She sat up, and her eyes fell on Ezri.

"Ezri, this is Gwyneira. Gwyneira, this is Ezri, our maid. Ezri, come and sit while I explain the situation. Gwyneira comes from Eira, and her coachman got lost. A boy who I thought was my friend attacked them, and the horses took off with the coachman. For now, Gwyneira is stranded here. I took her in as my maid to avoid suspicion."

"...Okay. I came to get you ready for the day."

"Yes, of course. Before we do that, would you run downstairs and gather one of your uniforms for Gwyneira? Later in the day, we can go and buy you another one."

"Yes, certainly."

Gwyneira watched as the door closed behind Ezri. "Why is she so informal?"

"Come again?"

"She barely uses formalities. I'm not sure she curtsied, either."

"Gwyneira, servants are people, too. I'm not going to demand things because I understand that Ezri can only do so many things. If I am too uptight, Ezri will resent me. Plus, I'm not fond of people hating me—especially people that have access to my room at night while I am sleeping."

"But—"

"I'm going to choose an outfit for the day—help me."

I slid out of bed. I pulled back the curtains, basking in the sunshine. My mother used to tease me that I am a plant myself just by how I love the sunlight on my skin. I opened my window, letting the breeze filter through the room. It was going to be a beautiful day.

I washed my face at my water basin and brushed my hair. I chose a white and peach-colored dress once I reached my wardrobe.

"Would you like me to help?"

I looked at Gwyneira, who had been silent thus far. "Yes, please."

She brushed my hair off my back, much to my delight. I took off my nightgown under the gaze of Gwyneira. She studied every part of me, her eyes soaking up my being. I had to fight the blush from my face.

I couldn't tell if it was a judging gaze or an attracted one. I hoped for the latter, but I knew it was the first.

I sucked in my breath as she got working at the laces. I grimaced as the dress grew tighter and tighter, not permitting my lungs to get as full anymore. "I hate it, too," Gwyneira said. "I always hate tightening the laces."

Ezri returned with a crème dress and apron. I don't have a set uniform for her—I require her to wear minimalistic dresses. I didn't want to make Ezri wear a black dress every day because she will get too hot.

Gwyneira stared at it for a second before hesitantly taking it. A small frown settled on her mouth. A spark of anger ran through me. Does she think she is too good for it?

"Listen," I said before I could control myself, "I realize that you come from a place of wealth, but people in this village are not fond of people of Eira. You probably won't make it back to your precious Eira if you don't blend in."

I stormed out of the room. I thought we could be friends, but she is nothing more than an elite with a silver spoon sticking out of her mouth. I should've known better.

I headed downstairs to get working on the bread for the day. Kneading dough always gets my anger out. It's almost as effective as gardening—nothing like mutilating flour, yeast, and water to calm down.