Page 17 of Captive of the Crime Queen

"I'm tired," I mumble into the pillows, but Mrs. Graves will have none of it. She tuts, leaning over to give my shoulder a shake.

"Lying about won't do you any good. You need a nice hot shower to perk you up."

I shrug off her touch, burrowing deeper under the covers. "Leave me alone." I was polite at first to Mrs. Graves, because she's been kind to me, but I'm too tired to bother being polite today.

The mattress dips as Mrs. Graves takes a seat. Her voice softens, threaded with concern. "Aurora, you must stop this fretting. Hadria wants you to join her for dinner tonight. So we need to have you looking presentable."

A shiver dances down my spine at the mention of Hadria. Ever since her threat to force-feed me if I didn't start taking care of myself, fear and defiance have warred within me. The thought of those cold hands touching me, holding me down...

I shake my head sharply. "I don't care what Hadria wants. I'm not some doll to be dressed up and paraded around."

Mrs. Graves' eyes gentle with sympathy. "I know this is difficult, but you'll only make things worse by fighting her at every turn. Hadria rewards cooperation handsomely, believe me. And you have nothing to fear from her…as long as you obey her." When I make no move to leave the bed, her expression grows stern. "If you insist on behaving like a stubborn child, I'll have to bring Lyssa in to handle you. I doubt you want that."

My stomach lurches. I've learned a little over the time I've been here, asking a few questions of Mrs. Graves and the other maid who comes in sometimes, Angie. Lyssa is Hadria's enforcer, head of security at Elysium, and right-hand woman. Dealing with her is the last thing I want. Lyssa takes too much pleasure in needling me.

So with a grudging sigh, I throw back the covers. "Fine. I'll shower."

Mrs. Graves smiles approvingly, leading me into the opulent bathroom. I stand stiffly as she turns on the shower, gesturing for me to undress and step in. Heat rises in my cheeks.

"I'd prefer privacy, if you don't mind."

"Come on, no need to be shy." At my mulish look, she adds, "The longer you drag your feet, the more likely Lyssa will come knocking."

I reluctantly strip off the oversized nightshirt. Goosebumps prickle my bare skin as I step under the hot spray, the water sluicing away days of built-up grime. I have to admit, it does feel soothing, warming my chilled bones.

Mrs. Graves passes me a scented body wash and urges, "Wash your hair too, that's a good girl."

I grit my teeth at being addressed like a child, but hold my tongue. There are worse battles to be fought than this. As I work up a lather in my hair, my mind inevitably wanders back to Hadria's dinner invitation.

Why summon me now, after a week without a glimpse of her? Does she mean to threaten me into better behavior? The not-knowing sits like a stone in my gut.

By the time I turn off the faucets, the mirrors are fogged with steam. Mrs. Graves wraps me in plush towels and sits me down at the vanity to gently work a comb through my wet tangles. The repetitive motion lulls me into complacency.

"What is she like?" I ask abruptly. "Under that coldness, I mean." From what little I've gleaned about the staff here, manyhave been in Hadria's service for years. Mrs. Graves especially seems familiar with her mistress's moods.

The older woman's eyes grow distant, a sad smile playing about her lips. "Colder still, I think. But Hadria has always been...complex. Brilliant, ambitious, but very closed off. But she is capable of great loyalty. She would do anything for the people she trusts."

I digest her words as she sets about drying my hair and curling it. It takes ages, so that I'm almost asleep again by the time she's done. Rising briskly, Mrs. Graves gives me a little shake. "Now then, let's get you dressed. Angie brought in a gown the mistress wants you to wear."

Curiosity wrestles with dread as I follow her into the bedroom. A breathtaking dress lies draped across the bedspread, all warm sunset hues and diaphanous layers. Mrs. Graves helps me into it, cinching the corseted bodice. The skirt falls to my ankles floor in a frothy cascade of handkerchief hems.

I study my reflection and the hysterical urge to laugh bubbles up. Hadria has dressed me in shades of sunrise—ironic for a woman who prefers to live in an endless night.

"You look lovely, my dear," Mrs. Graves pronounces. Before I can form a reply, a knock sounds at the door.

My pulse kicks up when Lyssa stalks in, raking her gaze over me. "Well, well, sleeping beauty awakes. Time's wasting, Suzy. Hadria wants you downstairs."

I stand woodenly, smoothing my skirt with shaking fingers. Lyssa grasps my elbow in an iron grip, leading me down the hallway. My legs turn to jelly as we descend the floating glass stairs, partly because it makes me dizzy to look through thestairs I'm supposed to be stepping on, and partly because I'm worried about Hadria. What does she have in store?

Lyssa marches me across the foyer's smooth floor towards the closed double doors of the formal dining room. She pauses, leaning in with a smirk.

"Word of advice? Don't keep her waiting, or that pretty dress might end up stained red." She drags a crimson fingernail across my throat in emphasis.

I flinch, anger simmering beneath my fear. Gathering my courage, I push past her and throw open the doors myself.

Whatever awaits beyond them, I'll meet it on my own terms.

CHAPTER 10

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