Page 8 of Kingdom of Flames & Flowers
Screams and cries for help became muffled until the only sounds were frantic splashing, and then nothing. In the end, most of the girls flailed over to the edge or were tall enough to get their feet under them eventually.
But not everyone.
“There. She doesn’t move.”
The captain of the fireguards pointed toward a pool in the middle. One of the bread girls floated serenely in the middle, her face completely submerged in the water. She was still.
“And there.”
The same in a far pool, but a stone girl. Shame, that was the young blonde, only thirteen or so by my estimate. Her blonde hair floated on top of the water, surrounding her body like a halo.
To my horror, there were more. Six girls in total. The fireguards dragged the dead girls out of the water and carried them away, and the primas began washing the survivors. Bundled in the arms of fireguards, it looked as though they were only sleeping.
There were nine of us left.
I must have gawked for too long because the prima tending to me broke her silence. “You’ll learn to obey or else.”
My wet hair smacked my face again as I turned abruptly to face her. I clawed it out of my eyes just in time to see her kneel at the side of the tub, a small jar of oil in her hands.
“Or else what?” I demanded rudely.
“You aren’t chosen,” she shot back. Her voice was firm, but not angry. It didn’t seem like a threat, but the way she said it had me wary.
“What happens if you aren’t chosen?” I asked instead as the prima rubbed oil from the jar onto her hands, then into my scalp. Everyone knew the entire purpose of being taken from your homes was to be chosen as a wife up on the Seat. I’d given no thought to the possibility of a girl being taken andnotbeing chosen for a wife. It didn’t seem so bad. I could go back and take care of my mother, and protect her.
Then again, if they killed all of us before we made it …
Survival was my number one goal. If not for myself, but for my mother. The prima didn’t answer, instead putting the jar down and lifting a wiry brush. All of my questions fled as she attacked my skin, scraping off years of mud and muck and turning the clear water around me into a thick, clouded soup. It hurt. It burned. I bared it all with grit teeth, remembering my ultimate goal to survive.
“Get up. To the next bath.”
It was empty because they’d just hauled a dead girl out of it. She pointed to a small set of stairs at the edge of my pool. I pulled myself along on the edge of the water, my toes just touching the bottom. I climbed up the steps and tried to cover myself. The prima couldn’t care less, shoving me forward. I shot a glance at the fireguards, but they were still standing still, rimming the outskirts of the bathing house and facing away.
The other girls stared as my prima shoved me into the next pool where a dead girl had been minutes ago. It was smaller, and easier for the prima to reach me once I was in. Luckily this one wasn’t as deep, and I could stand.
“I guess it’s true what they say about mud girls,” laughed the older girl from across the room. The others tittered, the primas even giving them small little smiles. Heat flushed my face, but nothing clever came to my tongue. Why would it? She was right: I was filthy. The brand on my back burned from the heat of their stares.
I submitted to the prima meekly after that, even when the prima called over to the others in an annoyed tone, and it took two more to help finish scrubbing me off while a fourth woman worked on my hair. She eyed the choppily shorn edges with disdain, and I tried not to wince. In the mud quarter, we took a knife to our hair every so often. If it grew too long, it was simply in the way and would be used against you in a fight.
“We shall … put it in a knot and braid it. I will inform the royal dresser you will need a personal visit.”
Even with four primas on me, the other girls finished way ahead of me. They were all dressed in sheer robes and led away. The fireguards went with them, all except for my handsome friend. I snatched my robe from a waiting prima and clutched it to my chest, curling up in a ball and covering all the important bits.
“Are you following me?” I grit, wincing in pain as the prima attacked a stubborn knot in my hair.
She then pulled my hair on purpose, pulling my head back so I could see her wrinkled face. “Do not talk to the fireguards.”
She let go, and my hands went to massage my scalp.
“I am assigned to see you safe with the others.” His green and silver eyes flashed at me, but his helmet obscured any other feature. Thinner metal wrapped around the front, covering the cheeks. The thinnest strip came straight down from the forehead, covering his nose. The only bits I could see of my fireguard were his eyes and his smile. He backed away and took up his post, which was behind me.
“See me safely? Or off me where no one can see?” I shot back.
The prima whipped around and slapped me across my lip, splitting it open. So it wasn’t just fireguards who liked to watch me bleed, was it? What was everyone’s fascination with hitting me? Did I imagine it, or did the corner of his eyes wrinkle in sorrow at what I said?
“The deaths are regrettable. And you should speak more respectfully.” He nodded toward the prima, who gave him a doting smile. He glared at her. None of it helped my throbbing lip.
Fully clean for the first time in years, I turned my back to him as the primas grabbed my robe from me and held it out to help me into it. Dainty leather sandals followed, and I frowned as I donned shoes for the first time in my memory. The prima twisted what hair I had into a bun and tucked the edges under, forgoing their idea of a braid. She secured everything with silver pins.
