Page 57 of Their Blood Queen

“I don’t know what the other Ladies are like in this house, Miss…” I trail off, then wave my fingers for her to fill in the blank.

“Beatrix,” she says as she straightens her spine.

“Miss Beatrix,” I continue. “You needn’t hold your tongue around me. In fact, I do hope we can all become friends with occasions that contain more such laughter. I presume we’ll be spending a significant amount of time together.”

And not to mention, my only friends at my own house were the staff.

No amount of finery and etiquette training would ever make me feel like I fit in among high-class Elites. My memory from my village is broken and faded, but my body seems to remember things I cannot. There’s a stress response I can’t explain around other Ladies.

It probably has a lot to do with the masks they wear. Not literal masks, but ones where they hide who they really are in an effort to blend in—or stand out.

Beatrix has one, but it’s for very different reasons. Underneath her professional and efficient mask, her eyes are kind and her soul is weighed down by troubles I can’t name. I’m sure there are many that an aged handmaiden might have on her hands.

Julie, though, has a flimsy mask that flies back into place. She bows her head, and her hair hangs around her like a curtain.

Stepping off my stupid pedestal, I tuck my finger under her chin and force her to look at me.

Her brown eyes are as wide as saucers.

She’s young, full of life, and hopeful. I’m glad to see a young lady working for the Rinholds having hope in her heart. That’s something I can work with.

“Can you tell me what was funny, Julie?” I ask. Her mask threatens to slam back into place as she goes tense. “You’re not in trouble,” I assure her. “I’ll admit, you probably know a lot more about how things work in this house than I do, Julie.” I use her name again and with purpose. I want her to understand that she’s a person with a name. She is no different from me, other than the fact that I was adopted by a Duke and she was not.

Julie’s brown eyes flick to Beatrix, and the older woman must have given her the go-ahead because she turns back to me with a tentative smile.

No, not tentative.

Hopeful.

“The tonics dress you, my lady. It would be improper to be naked.” She indicates a tray with various bottles on it. “Would you like to see them?”

I eye the tray, then roll back my shoulders. “Do you mean to say that I won’t ever undress? Even for bathing?”

Julie’s cheeks blush. “No, my lady. Not unless you enjoy baths for relaxation, that is. Tonics will keep you clean otherwise.”

I’m not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, I never have to feel like someone is watching me undress again.

On the other… would I want to eliminate the sensation entirely?

The shadows flicker in the mirror through my peripheral vision, mocking my dark desires. My nightmares are so sensual because I wear the most prominent mask of all.

I’m a village girl pretending to be a Lady.

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I say as I take the pedestal again. “All right, why don’t you explain to me how it works?” I ask, holding out my arms.

Beatrix approaches and matches my gaze in the mirror. Her smile is genuine, and the way her mask dissolves around her puts me at ease. “You’re a gentle soul, Lady Scarlett. Those are rare among the Elite families these days, so I promise you I will do everything I can to explain how it all works.”

I have a feeling she’s not just talking about tonics.

Beatrix slips the cloth over my head. There must be magic in the fabric, because what I’m wearing completely melts away, and the new threads hug every curve of my body with perfect precision.

The corset is still tight, but not suffocating enough that I feel like I can’t breathe. It wraps around my waist and my chest, sufficiently lifting my bosom better than any of my dresses have ever achieved.

I take the time to admire my reflection as my two new handmaidens quietly chatter. They spread ointments through my hair and seem to have accepted my decree that they should be themselves, so that gives me a moment to study them.

Beatrix is old enough to be my mother, and Julie is a cheerful little doll who does everything Beatrix tells her. I would have thought them mother and daughter had they not looked so different from one another.

Beatrix has dark hair wrapped up in a skull-tight bun, while Julie has wild blonde hair tucked back with pins around her face.