Page 9 of The Curse of the Goddess

“A worshiper?”

Melvian shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

There was no way of knowing if she was lying or not. Valda could torture her and wait it out, but at the end of it all, she wouldn’t be like Arwin… She sighed and released the maid to lean back on the chair. “Get my bath ready. Clean this mess up.”

“Yes!” Melvian turned on her heels and placed the boots inside the walk-in closet before running to the other side of the room, bumping her hip against a small table. The crystal containers rattled as the dark liquid sloshed inside. She hissed, grabbed the table, and turned to Valda, who stared at her with an arched brow.

“Bring me a drink while you are at it.”

Melvian nodded, grabbed a glass, and poured a drink before running back to her. Valda took the proffered glass and waved her hand dismissively. The maid hurried to the room next door and finished preparing Valda’s bath.

Standing tiredly, Valda shot the glass in one and hissed as the burning sensation settled in her stomach. After placing the glass on the small table, she undid the ties of her chest wraps and unrolled it from her torso, throwing it on the ground for Melvian to take care of later. Then she pulled her pants down until she was bare from all her clothing.

Valda was never shy, she had nothing to be shy about. Standing a whopping six foot and five inches, she was the tallest woman in the entire Skylian court. The only person able to see her eye to eye was Kayden, her best friend and the next in line to be the leader of Harmonia. Even Arwin was short by a couple of inches. Although sun-kissed like any other Skylian, her skin was embellished with dark freckles and white scar lines. All of them had a story, so she never saw them as something to be ashamed of.

Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, Valda looked at the wound, imagining the scar it would become. She flexed her arm, the bicep bulging under the tanned skin. The wound stung, but nothing she could not handle. Her honey-colored eyes traveled to the muscles of her thick thighs, noticing a couple of bruises forming. She had an ointment to help with that. If only the castle’s healer hadn’t fled. She would be ready in no time.Suddenly, the mark of Ouranos shone on her forehead for a heartbeat then disappeared. It had been weeks since the mark of the god surfaced. All those chosen to rule by the gods bore that mark. Seeing it once more eased her worries of one day being worthy of ruling.

She let out a relieved sigh before walking towards the bathroom. Melvian was just finishing pouring a bucket of warm water into the tub before squeezing some oils in. Once the young maid made contact with Valda, she looked away from her nakedness.

“Do— do you want another drink, Your Highness?”?

Another drink sounded nice. It would numb the muscle aches. “Sure.” Valda was calmer now. The welcoming scent of the bath had somehow relieved her stress. She placed her hand over the edge and slowly got into the tub. She hissed loudly and closed her eyes as she let the warm temperature ease her.

First, she would wash away all the blood she had on her, the dirt and the grime; then, she would drink some whiskey and sleep until noon. Absent-mindedly, Valda nodded at her plan and smiled.?

?It wasn’t long before the tiredness of battle came crashing down on her, nearly immobilizing her. She lay in the tub, eyes closed, listening to the maid’s footsteps as she walked in and almost immediately feeling a warm cloth upon her shoulder. “Is there anything you need before I leave for the night, Your Highness?”

“Leave the drink on the floor and go. I want to be alone.” She wanted time to think about her upcoming birthday, about the fact that she was days away from meeting her mate. Her stomach jumped with anticipation. She wondered what she would look like. Would she be the Sealian beauty she had imagined in her dreams? Sighing, a smile spread across Valda’s face.

Maybe with her mate, the weight of everyone’s expectations would be bearable.

The tavern was filled to the brim with boisterous soldiers, their armor clanging against each other as they laughed and cheered. The air was thick with the pungent scent of ale, sweat, and smoke from the hearth.?

From what Maris heard, the soldiers had just returned from a grueling battle, and were eager to drink and celebrate. Tankards were raised high in the air, and rowdy cheers echoed off the walls as they toasted while Maris tried to write down their orders in between each drunken cheer.?

Cressida was a small village and only had one small tavern. Maris never imagined it would be this full. The sound of raucous laughter mingled with the strumming of a lute and a thumping drum. A few soldiers had taken to the makeshift stage, singing bawdy songs. Some were even dancing, their movements uncoordinated but exuberant, making it hard on Maris to move from table to table.

Maris wasn’t in her element. She tried to keep up with the demands of the thirsty and rowdy soldiers. She poured ale from barrels stacked high behind the bar, wiping the sweat of her brow with the back of her forearm. The tavern’s hearth blazed bright, casting flickering shadows on the walls as it roasted meat on spits.

The soldiers let loose with wild abandon. They pounded their fists on the tables, shouting out orders for more ale and mead. The noise was deafening, but it was better than to have a bunch of drunk men fighting over nothing.

On cue, a few soldiers broke out into a brawl, the sound of punches and curses ringing out through the tavern. But the scuffle was quickly quelled by the more level-headed members of the group, who pulled the combatants apart and laughed it off with a rough pat on the back.

Maris exhaled, undoing her ponytail in exasperation, and pulling it higher to keep her hair from her face. She fixed her sleeves, re-rolling them up to her elbows, then grabbed the tray of food, took a deep breath, and walked out to the tavern.

“All right, gentlemen. We have tonight’s special for all three of you,” she raised her voice to capture their attention. When they stopped talking, she rapidly placed their plates on the table before moving back. “Hope you enjoy it.”?

Maris tried to ignore their hungry gazes; after all, she knew how to deal with drunk customers. As she was about to walk away, one of them grabbed hold of her apron and pulled her a little too rough for her liking. She stumbled on her feet, but managed to stand as she turned around and faked yet another smile.

“Yes?”?

“I said mine with no onions,” the soldier slurred his words, holding on tightly to Maris’s apron and pointing his other hand to his plate.?

“Oh! Excuse me, no problem I will get your order fixed right away, sir… If you let go of me, that is.” Maris grinned and only moved when the soldier’s hand dropped to his side.

She took the plate and made her way back to the kitchen, slamming the door open angrily. “Hey!” She almost smashed the plate over the counter. “I said no onions! Why do you keep getting the orders wrong?”?

“You better keep your mouth closed if you don’t want me to tell the boss you are the one taking bad orders,“ one of the cooks said, wiping his hand with a dirty rag. He took the plate and fixed it.“You Sealians are useless.”

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