Unless he became displeased with her. Then he made her bathe in the icy water trickling through the network of pipes.
As the light shift came off over her head, Aida kneeled beside the fragranced water for Immari to pin her thick curls atop her head, skimming her fingers through a slick of rose oil pooling on the water’s surface. Nose twitching against a sneeze at the potent scent, she longed for the earthy aromas from outdoors. Sunshine, warm and heady. Fresh tilled earth, rich and dark. The dusty boldness of sage.
“In with you now.”
Immari gave her just enough time to step into the extravagant tub before pushing her to sit. Plunged into the scalding water, Aida sucked a hard breath through her nose and let it out in a ragged exhale as Immari scrubbed at her with the rough pumice stone. To make her skin as smooth as a newborn babe’s, fresh and pink. A daily ritual that left her sore and aching, but it pleased her guardian. He liked the thick perfumes sinking into her skin even now. All of it was for Otaso’s pleasure, from the scents Immari perfumed her with, to the way she wore her hair. She’d never known a day where he did not determine her dress before Immari came to wake her, whether or not he was to see her that day.
Leg yanked from the water, Aida peered at Immari through lowered lashes as her maid scoured her flesh. Tried not to blame the woman who had taken care of her since she’d arrived at this castle, a screaming infant swaddled in blood. Aida heard the stories all the time from her sole companions, of how the once austere mage and Imperial Emperor of all Aeslomor softened to the weeping babe left at his door. Raised within the soot black walls of stone amid saffron yellow fields of dust and the black shadow of the mountain range, held high above the chaos and dangers of the world, Aida grew from toddling infant to young girl without ever seeing a face other than Immari and Otaso’s. It was when she grew older, her fourteenth summer, that things changed and all for the worse.
The first time she snuck from her room in the dead of night, she’d stumbled upon Otaso’s study. His place of power, where he worked all of his incantations and spells. Drifting through the space on silent feet, long white gown ghostly in the darkness, it was her own fault they had caught her. Some creature, small and pitiful, had squawked its dismay at her when she stubbed her toes upon its cage. Her scream had echoed through the entire castle, the windows shivering under the shrill sound. If she ever thought she’d known Otaso’s anger before that night, she’d been wrong. Mere disappointments compared to the rage that crackled through the darkness, straight into her soul as his presence sucked the air from the room. Leaving her shivering on the cold stone floor as the creature shrieked and screamed in its cage. He’d whipped Immari that night. Strung her up in the courtyard and forced Aida to watch from her tower.
Bad enough as it was, she saw his men descending on Immari when he dragged Aida inside. Their armor loosened, belts jangling as they rushed the bloody, weeping woman. She didn’t understand Immari’s screams, only knew that her friend was hurt, and no one would help. Only the beginning still as he forced Aida to kneel, ripping the soft flannel gown to bare her back. The cane hurt, liquid fire scorching delicate skin. It felt as if it had split her open, though Otaso assured her through the entire ordeal he would never leave her marked. Not his little fawn, his precious jewel. It was after the punishment that Aida’s fear soared to new heights, though she didn’t understand what it was at the time.
As Otaso held her in his lap, rubbing his rough hand across her agonized flesh and murmuring soothing words that did nothing to cease her sobs, things changed. His touch became different. Seeking something. Otaso became angry when she didn’t give him anything but her tears and sniveling cries, too wrapped up in the pain that still pulsed through her body, red hot and bone deep. That dissatisfaction lingered. Grew stronger by the day, long after the incident, well past the next time she’d been brave and dared to incite his wrath.
Now it was a constant. Always searching her features, her eyes, for something that he never found. His frustration mounting as the years passed, and she saw her eighteenth spring, becoming more woman than child. Now he would take it, whether or not Aida agreed.
“Stand.”
Immari’s biting command shot through Aida’s meandering thoughts, jarring her into the here and now. Shuffling up the side of the tub, she did as she was told.
Downy softness of a towel wrapped around her body, Immari helped her from the tub to stand before the mirror that never steamed over. Aida refused to meet her gaze in the reflection, the creeping certainty that another’s eyes peered back keeping her on edge whenever she stood before the glossy surface. Waiting with arms out for Immari to rub more of the oil into her skin, she instead looked at the parts of her body not concealed. Sun starved skin a sandy beige with a chaotic jumble of freckles, it wasn’t anything near the frigid paleness of the people of Logoria or anywhere else in Aeslomor. Not that she knew over much about them, but of the few she’d seen during her clandestine excursions and in the few books Otaso allowed her, they were cut from the same cloth. Pale skin, inky hair, all of them tall.
It couldn’t be more clear Aida’s parents, whoever they might have been, had not been of Otaso’s people. He’d had no reason to take her in that night, no responsibility as a ruler to even find her another home.
“You would do well to remember how much your guardian has done for you. Raised you to be a fine lady. Given you everything,” Immari muttered as if she knew Aida’s thoughts, brisk strokes of her palms smearing the thick oil over Aida’s skin.
Noncommittal hum going unnoticed, Aida gazed at her reflection, lost in her musing. It could be worse for her, no matter she felt stifled, imprisoned, the pretty bird singing her song in the dankness of a dungeon. Shiver prickling the backs of her arms and legs, Aida took a slow breath through her nose to banish the thought. Still her heart raced at the nightmarish memories of those dank and dark chambers.
Following Immari into the bedroom, Aida sat before the delicate vanity on a rounded stool, avoiding yet another mirror. The extensive process of applying the paints and dressing her hair that became mandatory for Otaso’s pleasure began.
She should be grateful. An orphan, all alone, she’d never have survived the world and all its dangers. Not from what little she gleaned from Otaso. His tales of war and violence were enough to terrify, leaving her to toss and turn through the night with horrible dreams. As much as she chafed under his constricting rules, his stern protection kept her safe.
There were other reasons to be afraid, ones Otaso hinted at. Things that made her special, desirable, craved by the very worst of men. It sang in her blood and was what made her eyes the deepest black pricked by pale blue points, the pupils hard to discern in anything but the brightest light. It was why he’d kept her.
Jerking her head away with a hiss when Immari’s fingers pulled a tangled knot free, Aida grit her teeth as she received a sharp slap to her back. The intricate braids hid away the curl of her hair, the soft sable intertwined with rich russet darkened to an austere black with yet more oils and concoctions to keep the strands smooth.
She owed him everything. Knew she should throw herself at his feet, eager to please him. Aida wished with all her soul she could make herself feel the things he wanted her to, because at least then it would make what would happen bearable.