Page 7 of Heavenly Bodies
‘I-I’ve tried to make your stay here in Sol as comfortable as possible,’ she said, eyes averted, her voice barely a whisper.
The anger and indignation that had filled Elara deflated, and she relaxed her shoulders, trying to soften her face.
It wasn’t this woman’s fault that Elara had been dragged into her enemy’s lair, then basically forced to aid their cause. And she certainly didn’t want the poor woman to be scared of her.
‘I appreciate it,’ she said softly.
Merissa’s hands stopped fidgeting quite so much. ‘I—’ She started again. ‘His Majesty has requested my skills to help disguise you while you’re amongst our court.’ She walked through to an adjoining chamber, which only served to grudgingly impress Elara more.
Sunken into the floor at the centre of the chamber was a bath the size of a small pool, full of crystal-clear water and soapy bubbles. Painted tiles lined it and were warm to the touch. The room smelled of jasmine oil, a smell that caused a sharp pang of longing in her. It reminded her too much of the night-jasmine trees that had grown outside her window, soothing her when she could not sleep with the fear of the nightmares she might fall into.
‘And what skills would those be?’ Elara asked, blinking away the memories.
Merissa’s lip quirked slightly. ‘You’ll see. For now, let’s get you clean.’
Elara was suddenly aware once more of the state of her dress, the sweat that had dried sticky on her skin.
Merissa began to undo the laces of Elara’s undergown, not that Elara minded. She’d grown up dressing and undressing in front of handmaids. When the torn and dusty white undergown slithered to the floor, Merissa picked it up gingerly.
‘Would you like this cleaned, Your Highness?’
‘Elara will do,’ she replied. ‘And no, I don’t want to keep that thing.’ It still bore the memories of the day that had changed her life irrevocably.
‘Thank the Stars. I’ll burn it then,’ Merissa muttered.
When Elara turned, the maid looked mortified that she’d uttered the words aloud. ‘I-I’m sorry, I—’
‘Incineration sounds fine.’ Elara’s lips twitched as she undid the thigh sheath that held her dagger, and Merissa smiled shyly back.
She placed it carefully by the water’s edge before gingerly stepping into the bath. Deliciously cool water lapped at her, a balm to her heated skin.
Merissa reached for the holster and knife. Elara stopped her. ‘I’d rather it remained close,’ she said.
Merissa gave a nod, and a reassuring smile. ‘Of course. A wise choice.’
It was a damned shame. If she had been in any other circumstances, perhaps she could have become friends with this woman.
She pushed the thought aside as Merissa crouched down next to the bath. ‘Soaps are laid here for you, Your Highness.’
‘Elara,’ she corrected again.
Merissa’s cheeks grew pink, and Elara tried to force another somewhat friendly smile as she turned her back to reach for the soaps.
‘That’s beautiful,’ she heard Merissa breathe behind her.
Elara turned, craning her neck to look at Merissa, and realized what the woman had to be looking at. An elegant rendering of a dragun was tattooed down her spine, snaking down in black, its scales and wings laced with shards of silver.
‘Ah, my dragun. The sigil of our family,’ she replied.
Merissa nodded. ‘I know the tales.’
Elara turned her attention back to the soap. ‘My best friend has one of a nightwolf.’ It wasn’t the sigil of Sofia’s house, but Elara had always been told that she herself had a dragun spirit and Sofia had wanted a tattoo to match her own spirit—ferocious, protective and loyal.
‘Nightwolves. The ending of “The Nightwolf and the Silver” always made me cry as a child,’ Merissa replied. ‘I hated the Nightwolf.’
Elara paused her washing, frowning. ‘The Nightwolf was the hero of the story. He was slain by the maiden.’
‘Yes,’ Merissa said slowly. ‘But he was slain because he had befriended the Lightmaiden, then betrayed her with his bite. She was left no choice. And she died too, with his venom in her veins.’