Page 45 of The Gilded Survivor

She cast me a long-suffering stare.

My back tingled. She didn’t understand how violated I felt. I didn’t understand or like how things worked in this world. My throat tightened. Magda wasn’t here with me right now, but she was strong. Capable of telling people what she thought.

I straightened my aching spine. “Don’t ever do that again. I’m allowed to give you orders, and that will be my first one.” My palms were shaking.

“But Señorita—“

I squeezed my nails into my sweaty palms. My head was still pounding. “No. You have no idea how… overwhelming all of this is. I’ve never had a maid before, and I don’t want one now.”

As soon as the words were out, I wished I could take them back. Isolda looked at me with her full brows drawn together over her wide eyes.

My mouth opened and closed. She had come and gone as she wished all morning. It was impossible to know what kind of tale had been woven about who I—Renata—was, and where I was from. Élites all had servants, they all were used to treating people like they were tools rather than flesh and blood.

“I mean, of course I’ve had a maid. I meant that I didn’t want anyone but her. I’m disoriented. Forgi—” I halted again. I didn’t need to apologize. “Do not come into the room unless I am present and awake.”

Isolda nodded slowly. “Of course. How would you prefer to be woken up?”

“With an alarm clock,of course,” I snapped. My cheeks heated. The steaminess of the room was making my cold sweat worse, releasing the scents of my wine-hangover int the open air. It took me an obscene amount of time to process my own thoughts. I really wanted to strip down and soak in that bath until lunch time.

Isolda quickly responded, saying she would fetch it for me. She set the towel in her arms on the stone counter. I thought she was leaving, so I walked to the extension that was placed delicately on the side of the bath and picked up what looked like a shower head. I turned it over in my hand, looking for a lever or a switch.

“That should be used for your hair,” Isolde said from the entrance. “Turn it on with that knob there.”

I whipped around and saw her pointing at a white circle on the side of the bathtub. Why the hell wouldn’t she leave? My heart picked up speed. “Are you going to bathe me, too?”

She laughed, and then shook her head. “Perdón. But it’s becoming clear that you have no idea how any of this works.”

With that, she turned around and left.

It was a little rude, and it made my cheeks burn even hotter. But at least I was alone. I took a deep breath, taking the hot steam into my lungs.

It took very little time for me to peel off every last scrap of my clothes, use the restroom, and climb into the tub. As soon as the hot water hit my skin, my muscles relaxed. It was almost too hot in the beginning, but the more time I spent in that glorious water, it warmed my insides as well as my outsides.

Equilibrium was glorious. The trip had been cold, and I felt like the heat banished the lingering chill.

I let out a long sigh, and laid there.

At least an hour must’ve passed before my stomach voiced its desire to go eat. I picked up the soap on the side dish and lathered it in my hair. I pulled my hand out of my tresses and stared at it. There were rich, luxurious bubbles in place of the harsh soap I had used my whole life. Instead of making the strands feel straw-like and brittle, they felt like silk.

I went back to cleaning my hair and body with a new vigor. When I was finished, my skin had red undertone and it was smooth and soft like never before. Even my ringlets hung in soft, dripping messes around my shoulders.

I took the towel, stepped onto some plush bath mats, and dried off as quickly as possible.

There was a toothbrush by the sink, so I picked that up and started scrubbing away the grime on my teeth. Afterwards, I picked up the paddle brush made with thick, wiry hairs instead of solid bristles and attacked my hair.

It worked well enough, but more and more volume puffed up around my head. A strange ball of frizz. I decided it would be best to abandon the styling.

I turned around, and picked up my clothes.

I froze.

I had only brought these clothes with me.

That achy, sweaty feeling returned tenfold. The hollow gnawing in my stomach from hunger and nerves felt like I was being eaten alive.

My damp footprints trailed after me as I hurried back into the bedroom. I closed the door quietly, and my heart pounded in my chest. The first thing that I noticed was that the enormous cream-white bed where I’d slept had been made.

The second thing was that there were clothes laid out on top of it.

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