Page 8 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

I know what she’s asking—what did I do to deserve being punished in this way? Anger boils up inside me, and I don’t know if it’s because of today’s events or if it’s because I feel safer around her, but I can’t stop the bitterness that coats my words.

“All slaves are branded this way the moment we become slaves, to remind us that we belong to the king.” The brand at the bottom of my spine, although long healed, always looks red and angry. It throbs under Jayne’s stare, as if talking about it makes the pain fresh. The king’s symbol, branded on me forever, marks me as his property. If she was upset by that, then she would hate the mess of scars on my stomach.

“I knew about the numbers. But not this…” She trails off and I flinch as I feel her fingers brush over the mark. I learned from an early age that the only time someone touches you is to inflict pain, so I brace myself against the bath as I await the blow.

“Will you stop acting like I’m going to beat you?” Jayne commands, some of her fire coming back into her voice as she seems to shake away the shock of seeing my brand. Spurred into action, I lift a foot and place it into the water, hissing quietly as the water stings the raw skin of my ankles. Jayne doesn’t say anything as she guides me into the water, but I can see her frown from the corner of my eye. Easing down into a sitting position, I wait expectantly as Jayne bustles around.

“You soak some of that dirt off and enjoy the hot water. I’ll be back shortly,” she directs, before she walks out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Dumbstruck, I look around the room. My whole life has been guided by the instructions of others.Clean here. Move this there.I’ve never had time to myself to “enjoy” anything. What do I do? My mind is spinning, thoughts flashing through my head before I have a chance to fully comprehend them, but I soon find my eyelids drooping as the hot water soothes my muscles.Hesitantly, I lean against the sloping side of the bath and rest my head back, after all, no one’s here to see me.

Watching the steam rise from the hot water surrounding me, I reach out to touch it, smiling slightly as it eddies around my fingers, swirling in the air. My smile drops as I think about what will be awaiting me once I leave the bath and face the magician who saved me. He took the blame for me. And lied.Why? Frowning, I shake my head, trying to rid it of thoughts of Grayson, and tell myself to just be thankful that he did. Sinking lower into the water, I close my eyes and let myself pretend, just for a moment, that I’m someone else.

The sound of somebody tapping on the door has me opening my eyes and I realise I must have fallen asleep. Sitting up, I frown at the still closed door. Why aren’t they coming in? The knock comes again and I realise with shock that they’re waiting for me to respond.

“Yes?” I croak, but Jayne must hear me because she walks in, shutting the door behind her before moving over to me, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

“It’s relaxing, right?”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice a little stronger this time. She seems different now, but I can’t put my finger on why. Handing me a sponge, she gestures for me to face the wall. Turning in the tub so my back is to her, I hear her puff out a breath as she sinks to her knees behind me. There’s a pause, and I get the impression she’s trying to work out what to say.

“I’m going to wash your hair,” she explains as she gently reaches out and gathers my dirty locks. I don’t really want her to touch me, but I get the feeling she’s not going to hurt me.

“Okay,” I murmur, trying to relax as I begin to rub the sponge against my arms. I grimace when the sponge soon turns black. A soft tug encourages me to tilt my head back, and Jayne pours warm water over my hair. I worry about the water going ontothe floor again, but I can hear it splash into some sort of bowl. A sweet smell fills the air before her hands are on my scalp, massaging something into my hair. I fight against my instincts to shy away, and after a moment I start to enjoy the pleasant feeling.

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. It seems to take a while and Jayne mutters under her breath about the amount of dirt coming from my hair. Once she’s done and I’ve scrubbed my skin clean, the water left in the bath is grey with muck. Gesturing for me to stand, Jayne tries to help me out, but I quickly and ungracefully climb out myself, ignoring the slight look of hurt that crosses her face. When I stand, I see the expression has disappeared and she passes me a large towel, wrapping it around me. Without waiting for an answer, she pulls out a chair from beneath the counter and gestures towards it.

Suddenly, it goes dark as something is placed over my head. Heart pounding, I thrash around, trying to knock off the covering.

This is it, they’re trying to kill me. They’re going to take me away. The thoughts are nearly consuming as my chest heaves, my eyes stinging as I fight tears. I was stupid to trust them, and I’m going to die for that mistake. The cover is removed and I squint against the light. I see a shocked looking Jayne standing in front of me, her hands outstretched as if to comfort me. But she doesn’t, instead she hovers there, unsure. Panting, I meet her eyes for a second before looking away, wrapping my arms around my middle.

“I’m sorry, I forgot…” She trails off and I can hear her regret. She slowly reaches for my chin, guiding my face up until my eyes meet hers. “Whatever life you had before today, it’s in the past. It’s going to be a learning curve, for you and for me. I’ll try to be more careful, if you can work on trusting me?” She’s asking theimpossible. I don’t trust anyone, that’s a luxury I can’t afford to have.

“He told you about me.” A statement, not a question. She knows I’m a slave, yet she doesn’t treat me like one. I examine her face as I wait for her response. She seems wary, concerned. She treats me differently than others do. Most people don’t seeme. I’m usually perceived as a nuisance, like something unpleasant they just stepped in. Jayne is treating me like, like...a normal person.

“He told me you’re important, and I trust him,” she responds. I hold her gaze long enough to ascertain that she’s telling the truth before dropping my head again. Sighing, she guides me towards the chair. Pulling my towels closer, I perch on the edge of the seat, ready to jump up if I need to. I don’t think Jayne’s going to hurt me, but I’m in an unfamiliar place and old habits are hard to break.

Jayne moves slowly and positions herself so that I can see what she’s doing. I’m not sure if she’s doing it on purpose, but I’m grateful for it. Raising the towel, she proceeds to dry and comb out my hair. We’re silent as she works, but it’s not a cold, strained silence, and I find myself enjoying being in her company. Once done, she comes to stand behind me and guides my head up to look in the mirror. I go to glance away out of instinct, but I find I can’t move my eyes from the image I see.

It was only a handful of hours ago that I looked in the grimy mirror in the forgotten closet, but the difference between those hours is shocking. I don’t recognise the young woman sitting in front of me. Her dark hair falls around her face in shiny waves, thick and full. Her face, while pale, looks soft and clean compared to the gaunt, haunted looking reflection from before. But it’s my eyes that hold the biggest difference. I’ve always thought my almond-shaped eyes were too big, eternally seeing things people want hidden, and sure, I still look too thin butthere is something in my eyes that’s altered. I look like someone determined. But determined for what?

“You’re very pretty. I didn’t notice before under all that dirt.” The comment is said lightly, but I can hear the undercurrent of disapproval in her voice. Disapproval at me, or disapproval at how we’re treated to make us that dirty in the first place? Hastily, I look away and push off from the stool. Those thoughts are dangerous.

Seeing that she’s made me uncomfortable, her face pinches before she nods, patting a pile of folded fabric I hadn’t noticed before. “Get changed into this, call me once they’re on and I’ll button you in,” she explains, before quietly leaving the room.

Letting out a soft breath, I slowly turn to the bundle of fabric. It’s the dark, rich blue of the magicians. My heart thuds painfully in my chest. Surely she brought the wrong one? To dress me in this colour is making a statement, the magicians are claiming me. But for what? What could an ex-slave offer a high magician? Reaching out, I frown as I notice my hand shaking and force myself to slow my breathing. This is ridiculous. Scowling at the offending piece of clothing, I grab it and fight my way into it, ignoring the softness of the fabric and the flurry of excitement and nerves that I refuse to let surface. The fabric flutters down to just below my knees, the snug sleeves cutting off just above my elbows. I refuse to look in the mirror as I call out to Jayne to let her know I’m dressed. It’s silent for a while and I wonder if I haven’t spoken loudly enough, but I turn away as the door opens, baring my back for her to button up the dress.

“Can you button me up please?” I request quietly, boldly. I still don’t know what’s happening, but I like Jayne.

Silence follows my question. Did I say something wrong? I can feel her eyes on my brand again, my skin tingling under the weight of her stare. Shuffling my weight, I pull at the fabric, unused to such tight clothing, feeling awkward in the silence. Iopen my mouth, to say what I don’t know, when I feel her hand brush the skin on my back. My skin erupts into goose pimples, a soft gasp escaping my lips as she touches my brand. It’s only for a second, but I swear something within me pulses at the contact, except before I can work out whatthatwas, she starts to button up the dress. We stay silent as she gently tugs at the fabric, fastening the fiddly buttons. She doesn’t brush my skin again, and the strange pulsing sensation stays buried.

“This colour suits you,” a deep male voice comments. Grayson’s voice. Spinning as if the room’s on fire, I back away from the male.

“I thought you were Jayne.” Breathless, I startle as my back hits the wall behind me, stopping my retreat.

“I gathered that.” A sly smile graces his lips.

This is all a huge joke to him, my fear is an amusement.Anger twists inside of me and I take a step forward, fists clenched at my sides.

---