Page 9 of Of Wolves and Wives

“Then so be it,” the prince sneers. “You’ll patrol the forest until the boar is found, only returning for your shifts to watch over my heir.”

It takes everything in me to bite back the snarl that threatens to have me at the prince’s neck in an instant. Patrol is a position better suited for Rykker, as I’m sure the prince knows. One glance at Rykker, and I can only imagine what sordid task the prince has chosen for him.

But I will not let him break us.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

4

Rose

Iwatch as Beatrice fills the tub with steaming water, a wicked grin on her face as she works. Several other maids have arrived in the meantime, carrying plush towels and an assortment of vials and jars that I can’t help but eye warily.

“The water’s too warm, girl,” Mistress Thompson chides, after testing it with her fingertips. “Go, I’ll see to this myself, tell the kitchen to save what remains of the plums for Rose and to send out for more. Apparently, that’s about all she can stomach at the moment.”

Beatrice nods, the smile slipping from her face as she slinks from the room. It’s a small relief to have her gone, but all too soon lost as Mistress Thompson turns back to me. With icy hands and emotionless eyes, she pulls me up from my chair.

In a matter of seconds, I’m stripped of my clothing and left to stand in the cold as she tosses them aside. I stare longingly at the water while Mistress Thompson tests it again and again, my teeth chattering as shivers rack my body.

“Stand still, girl,” Mistress Thompson snaps as she returns to my side with a glob of some tangy-sweet smelling substance in-hand. Grabbing me, she presses the mixture to my body, working it roughly over my skin.

It’s immediately apparent what it is. It was tang that I was smelling, but salt.

My eyes water as my wounds sting, and I swear she’s reopened several that had just begun to heal. Still, I bite my tongue as she works.

Finally satisfied that she’s scrubbed me to within an inch of my life, Mistress Thompson orders me into the tub. I don’t have to be told twice.

I sink into the water. Though it’s far from warm, I let out a small sigh of relief as it laps at my skin and eases the sting of the salt in my wounds.

My pleasure is short lived; however, when only seconds later a maid appears at my side. I flinch as she reaches for me, but my worry is unwarranted as her touch is surprisingly gentle.

Settling slightly, I let her tend to my hair, rinsing and rubbing oils through it as another maid moves to cleanse my skin with a soft bar of soap. I’m far from at peace with so many hands touching me, but at least their touch is kind.

I have no doubt that by the time they’re through with me, I’ll be the cleanest I’ve ever been.

As the two maids bathe me, the others scurry about under Mistress Thompson’s careful watch. It’s obvious she takes a great deal of pleasure from ordering them about. Everything must be just so, the fire warm enough to keep any chill out, the balcony door propped open to allow just enough fresh air into the room, and the blankets clean.

Helena watches all of this from where she’s perched on the edge of her chair, boredom clear in her eyes.

“That’ll do, girls,” Mistress Thompson suddenly barks, peering down at me from the opposite side of the tub. “Hurry, now, before the water gets too cold.”

Lifting me up out of the water, I’m patted dry before even more oils and lotions are slathered over my skin. At this point, I don’t know if they’re preparing me for pregnancy or to roast me on a spit.

Still naked, I wrap my arms around myself as the first maid presses me down into a chair. She runs a comb through my long red waves before quickly working it into an intricate set of braids while it’s still wet.

I’m dressed in the black gown Helena selected earlier, and a gold belt is wrapped around my torso to keep the plunging neckline in place, not that everyone here hasn’t already seen what little I have to offer if it did.

As I’m shooed back toward the bed, while the maids work to clean up, I catch sight of my reflection in a mirror and am forced to stop. The woman looking back at me is strange, almost beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I might even think she was royalty.

But I do know better.

“You may all leave,” Helena says, the power in her simple command all I need to hear to remind myself of my place. “Do make sure to have another meal arranged for the girl.”

“About her walk, my lady?”

“I’ll take her myself.”

Mistress Thompson nods once before motioning for the maids to leave, and I’m almost sad to see them go as Helena rises to approach me.

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