Shadow Touched (Editing)

41. NAIMA

The morning comes all too soon. It feels like my head barely hit the pillow before the curtains are pulled back, striking me with a burst of bright light. The two ladymaids assigned to me—Cara and Lily—move about the room quickly, chattering to each other and me in short, rapid bursts.

"Mornin', my lady!" Trills Cara, who's small and petite with beautiful brown skin the colour of fresh earth. Her brown hair is cut into a short, blunt bob; her natural curls are pulled straight so that it swings back and forth as she bustles about, pulling out clothes, shoes, and makeup.

"The Receivin's to begin in an hour. Captain Finch told us we were to let you sleep as long as possible, but—"She gestures to the dress, and I understand what she doesn't say. Being a lady in Athecca requires donning clothes that take forever to put on. Not to mention perfect makeup and hair to look as close to a goddess as possible. It's weird; we've long said the gods are dead, yet we work so hard to imitate them in our daily lives.

I rub my eyes and allow myself one long, slow, luxurious stretch. I could give a fuck about the Receiving. It's wild to me all this pretence—that King Vincent wants us all to pretend everything's just fucking dandy.

The second maid, Lily, who's as tall and thin as Cara is short and curvaceous, has been laying out breakfast and now moves to my bathing chamber to draw me a bath.

"I'll bring your breakfast in here. You can eat while we tend to your hair." She says, eyeing my curls, which I've released from the satin bonnet I wear to bed.

Once I'm up and out of bed, the women work quickly, ushering me here and there. My bath is far too short—no time for luxuriating. Lily runs oil through my hair, gently but efficiently running a wide-tooth comb through my curls, detangling any unexpected knots that develop as I sleep.

My hair is nearly to my waist now. Keeping it long is a lot of work, but my father always told me how much he loved my ringlets. How it reminded him of my mother. He rarely spoke about her, but when he did, it was always in relation to me. My hair, the way I walked, my inability to feel fear. I never knew her; she died giving birth to me, leaving my father, the young general and Atheccan hero, widowed with a child.

It would have been easy for my father to remarry. He was handsome. Tall and fit, not as muscular as Finch, but a big man. His skin was lightly tanned. His big brown eyes were warm and inviting. Women were always flirting with him, much to my dismay. Not that I didn't want him to find someone, to be loved, but you know, it's gross to think of your parent as a sexual being, particularly as a child. And...and I've never liked sharing.

It doesn't matter. He never bothered to remarry. If he had any relationships, he kept them separate from me. All I know is that he loved me. He always made time for me, even if he was the second most important man in the country.

"Ta-da!" Lily sings, her hands framing my head to show off their work. I look into the mirror, surprised by how much time has passed. I was so caught up in memories of my father I didn't register the two women had managed to braid my hair in cornrows, letting them cascade down my back in beautiful, thick plaits. Despite the ache I feel when I think of my father and my lack of enthusiasm for the day ahead, I can't stop smiling. They've made my life so much easier. These braids should keep for several days. No messing with combs and oils or worrying about rain.

"Thank you." I give them both a smile.

"Don't thank us just yet," Cara says, offering me a hand. "You've not seen the corset sewn into your dress."

~*~

Half an hour later, Cara and Lily stand before me, taking in their work. I'm wearing what looks like a simple gown. It's a beautiful cerulean blue that flows gently as I walk. It looks like it should be comfortable, but the boning within digs into my ribs, making breathing an unfortunate necessity. My waist is cinched, looking smaller than normal. When I inquired about it, Cara told me it was the latest rage among the Atheccan high ladies. Why anyone would think being terribly uncomfortable is fashionable is beyond me. Frankly, I would imagine a man came up with the design—if we're uncomfortable and can barely move, it's that much harder for us to run away.

It doesn't matter. The dress is on. I'm all dolled up, and now I wait for Finch to escort me to the Receiving.

A light knock at the door hits minutes later. Lily scurries to open it as Cara slaps a piece of jam-covered toast from my hands. Hissing something at me about not ruining my lipstick.

I purse my lips at her and then look longingly at the toast.

"What a shame all that jam and butter going to waste."

Grey.

Grey stands in the doorway to my room. Not Finch. Grey.

He's dressed in all black, the buttons at the top of his dress shirt left undone, giving him a casual flair. His gold hair is swept back off his face. His eyes—his eyes are the colour of the sea when the sun's first rays hit the water. They are breathtaking. He is breathtaking.

He looks like a dream.

"Gre—Your Highness." I correct myself quickly, noting how Lily and Cara stand to the side, watching our interaction. I drop into a quick curtsey.

As I right myself, Grey extends his hand, taking mine as he helps me up. I can feel, in his grasp, the unholy strength that runs through him. His hold is light. There are no shadows at play here. He has an amused smile, and his eyes shine with mischief. I have no clue what's going on, and I don't care.

"My father has decided it would bring great joy and happiness to the citizens of Varran City if we were to take today's final Receiving together. After all," he drolls, playing up for our audience of two, "who doesn't love a good reunion?"

He gives me a dazzling smile. Before I can respond—his appearance making my brain slow with shock—he turns to the ladies and politely dismisses them.

They exit quietly, leaving us alone.

"We have ten minutes before the Receiving begins, barely enough time to walk from here to the Throne Room. I know you have many questions, and I promise I will answer all of them, but for now, please allow me to say how truly exquisite you look. I would love nothing more than to see this stunning blue dress in a beautiful puddle on the floor."

"I—what?" I laugh, my head falling back as the sound escapes. The surprise I felt seeing him has turned to giddiness. He feels like normal Grey. It is as if the Shadows and the Gloaming have all just been one big nightmare.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew where my priorities lie."

He offers me his arm, which I readily take, and we head out of my rooms and down the hallway, a retinue of Royal Guards following behind.

~*~