Page 66 of Heavy is the Crown
“My name is Elspeth,” she says as she walks in with a pile of towels, back straight as if she’s got a rod pushed through her. Unlike her counterpart, her eyes are a bright aqua blue that stand out against the brown hair.
“Your bath is ready, milady,” she says briskly. The two girls move to strip me, but I bat their hands away with a hiss.
“I’ve got it,” I say before I can think better of it. The smell of roses is starting to make my head pound relentlessly. All I’ve smelled is Shadow and Drago over the past few months, their scents grounding and calming. The roses make me want to throw up. I quickly begin to disrobe with the sole intent of dunking myself in the bath before fleeing, when I hear the sharp intake of breath.
Glancing up, the violet eyes of Harrowlena are locked onto the wicked scar that spans my belly. Her eyes flash up to mine, a strange look moving over her face before she schools it again.
Pearl moves in behind her, pushing the priestess to the side. “Those animals,” she says, disgust woven into her voice.
“It wasn’t them,” I growl without thinking.Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to play this part better if I’m going to make this plan work.
“Oh, dear. I know you believe that.” She pats me on the shoulder before gently shoving me toward the bath. “That tattoo is atrocious, too. Oisin will hopefully get that removed.”
I almost ask her what tattoo but look down before opening my mouth, and curling around my right thigh is the tattooed form of Buttercup.
The women spend hours scrubbing and polishing every portion of my body. My patience is running thin as they chatter around me like gossiping birds. They remind me of my mother’s help. I never hated my attending ladies at the palace, but they had never beenmine. They were my mother’s, first and foremost, meaning anything that happened was brought back to her. These women were no different, they just reported to a different jailer.
When they remove the pink from my hair, returning it to the blonde I had as a child, it takes everything in me to hold back the tears. Whatever magic they’ve used has also forced the side-cut to grow out to match the length of the rest of the hair. The person in the mirror looking back at me is one I had hoped to avoid, golden hair wrapped up in intricate braids atop her head, a small golden crown tucked into it. It gleams with a red jewel in the center. My only saving grace is Buttercup on my body. She’s kept the panic at bay. Though I have no memory of her planting herself on me, I can’t help but let my finger stroke over her every so often in thanks.
Pulling my attention back from Buttercup, the older woman walks in with a blood-red dress. The younger girls rip the towel from my body despite my shout of protest and shove me into a red thong before they wrap me in the sheer tank-top dress. It flows long, down around my ankles and outward into a pool of red behind me. Next, they fix a golden collar around my neck, a leash attached.
“He cannot possibly mean for me to walk out like this,” I say, taking in the sheer dress. Nothing is left to the imagination, my tits on full display, that golden leash hanging down between them. Ada walks over, holding a black lace cinch that she positions over me from behind, the boned piece of fabric covering my breasts and stomach. I can barely breathe in it once she is done lacing it up. “Ah, so he just expects me to suffocate for all of dinner,” I mutter under my breath.
While the other women coo at “how beautiful” I look, I watch Harrowlena. She fidgets with her linen pants. All priestesses in training wear loose linen pants, with a bandeau wrap around their breasts and a long linen jacket over it. She is wearing cream, marking her position as high priestess in training. At some point, she put her own crown on, a golden sunburst similar to my own, and her long silver hair is unbound in loose curls.Her pale, almost translucent skin is unblemished in the areas that are exposed. But I would bet money she is hiding bruises and scars under those clothing articles.
She clears her throat in awkward response to my gaze, and I quickly school my features, returning my attention to the other women.
“Tonight, you’ll be introduced to the court,” Pearl begins. “You’ll sit with His Grace and greet those he wishes you to. After that, you’ll be brought back here. I’ll be here waiting for you and will attend to you overnight.”
“I don’t need anyone overnight,” I grumble, but she waves me off. I glance at Harrowlena. “Why can’t she attend to me?”
Harrowlena blanches at my tone. But Pearl explains, “As a priestess, she is readying for the full-moon ceremony.”
I frown at them. Despite not knowing the girl, there's something about the priestess that makes me see a kindred spirit in her. It makes me think I can trust her, and I would rather have her with me than one of Oisin’s little spies.
“She’ll ascend to high priestess once her first Cycle happens,” Elspeth says. “She receives her instructions at night.”
My stomach sours and white-hot rage pushes through me at the implication. Harrowlena averts her eyes from mine, cheeks turning a deep crimson.
“Ladies, go ahead. I wish to speak with Harrowlena alone,” I say, channeling my mother’s voice and father’s confidence. The three maids look uneasy, obviously stuck between my orders and Oisin’s. “Do not make me ask again,” I growl, allowing a little wisp of my power to push out. They scurry out, leaving me with the priestess.
I pick up the length of my skirt to keep from tripping over it as I head toward the door, pushing it firmly shut behind them. I don’t turn toward the young woman as I start talking. “I’m going to take a calculated risk here and trust you. Trust that maybewe are on the same side. And maybe it’s because you’ve got a fucking metal mask on your face and I’m in a collar. Or maybe it’s because it’s being insinuated that my soon-to-be husband is going to try to fuck you. But either way, I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to protect you.” I finally turn and face her.
The girl’s violet eyes take me in, raking over my body in a strange way before finally locking back on my own. She gives a small nod. The only confirmation I need.
“Now, let’s go raise some Hell.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
We are the life blood of the young royals while they are without mates. Without us, the royal magic cannot be replenished.
Even with the Well, the rituals are unknown to all but us.
– Priestess Codex
Jackson
(“FATE BRINGER” – In This Moment)
