Page 117 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Come in!” the voice repeated, louder this time.
“Apologies. I think I have?—”
The door swung open, and standing behind it was one of the maids, a short and narrow female dressed in a loose-fitted beige frock and a yellow sash around her waist.
“Oh.” The maiden’s face flushed with surprise. “I thought you were young Monia, my lady, come to deliver the setting powder I’d asked her to—oh, well, never mind that. She and I will be by in a moment with your dress for the evening. Don’t you worry.” She closed the door slowly. “Only a moment.”
Ingrid could barely utter a syllable before the door was shut in her face. She hovered there a moment, feeling confused and looking it, before returning to her room and pacing about. She couldn’t get a grasp on how much time had passed. Twenty minutes, or perhaps even two hours had elapsed before the two maids finally burst in without knocking.
“Let’s get you washed,” the shorter maid said.
“Washed? You mean you’re going to bathe me?”
The two maids didn’t answer. Ingrid was too stupefied to do anything but obey as they shepherded her toward the tub. Shestripped all her clothes behind a folding partition made of red and gold cloth and stepped into the tepid water. In the frenzy of the scrubbing, Ingrid had to clutch her father’s viseer stone necklace to keep it from being plucked away along with all her other garments.
Monia, a lively, tall young female with purple-blue eyes worked tirelessly on Ingrid’s hair, piling the black braids on top of her head. While the shorter, obviously more experienced maid—who hadn’t offered a name yet—fussed over the primitive makeup she applied to Ingrid’s under-eyes, lips and lashes.
When they’d finished, Ingrid took stock in the six-foot-tall mirror in the corner of the room. Her painted face was more subtle than she’d imagined, the hair perplexingly intricate and fetching. And the gown—it was certainly more flattering than the beautiful but well-worn dress she’d come in. Scarlet red with an asymmetrical hem, one side slit high to accentuate her leg, and a sinched waist that put so much pressure on her stomach and bosom that she begged the two lady’s maids to loosen the ties.
They obliged, despite the concern they expressed about the “fashion” of it. Then before Ingrid knew it, she was again being led down the long dark hall like a prize dog, aimlessly walking between her two guides.
Tyla was still nowhere in sight, and the path had diverted from where the maids had taken to get there.
“Umm,” Ingrid started, trying to appear casual. “You two don’t happen to know where my friend is, do you?”
Monia turned, smiling mischievously. “Which one, my lady? Lady Tyla… or your handsome—” Her jest was cut short by a swift slap in the back of the head by her superior.
“Forgive young Monia, my lady. She’s only just taken up this post. Hasn’t consorted with Viator of your ilk very often. Lady Tyla will be along soon. The dress we provided didn’t fit, so Isent one of my girls to fetch a new one.” She clicked her tongue, turning to Monia to whisper. “What will we do with you?”
Ingrid choked on a laugh. “Don’t bother. She was only observing. Besides, I’m no stranger to females gushing over my brother,” she added, selling it with an annoyed groan. “And that Raidinn, well, you’d have to be blind not to take notice of him. He’s nearly as tall as a Variann horse.”
Even the staunch, porcelain-skinned maid chuckled at that.
“It’s just occurred to me.” Ingrid slowed, angling her chin down. “I didn’t ask your name yet.”
“Oh, yes. It is Lucilla, my lady.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She peered down the hall, trying to make out any sign of life, and listening for any noise from the party they were supposedly heading to. “Will you two be staying for the ball?”
Unnerving silence draped over them, but Ingrid couldn’t tell if she was reading into the eeriness of it. “Weareheading to the ball, yes? Or did you dress me like this for your own amusement?”
Lucilla snorted, covering her mouth. “Suppose you got that humor out on the seas, my lady. With all those sailors, no doubt.” She placed a hand on her underling’s back. “Sadly, only young Monia will be seeing to your needs. I’ll be far too busy cleaning up in the throne room.”
Ingrid looked to the young maiden named Monia, catching her at the very moment she stifled a smile. It was a girlish excitement, too human for Ingrid not to briefly forget her surroundings and circumstances.
“Pity,” Ingrid replied. “But the queen mentioned that the festivities would go on past tonight. I’m sure you’ll partake in the fun at some point?”
“Partake?” Lucilla was still a picture of professionalism. “No, no. I’m far too busy.”
At that, Monia threw a fist over her mouth and flexed her brow upward. Her excitement had quickly turned mocking, sinister almost, and Ingrid couldn’t tell who the intended target of this sudden disdain was.
“Busy, yes,” Monia whispered, her rare eye color glinting in the torchlight. “Very busy.”
“What was that, child?” Lucilla groaned. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Monia paused in thought, rocking her head like two decisions were weighing her down on both sides. “It’s just your choice of words.Busy.”
“Well, I am.”
