The Blood King's Love

Seven

The maid carefully spreads the thick, sticky substance all over my the front of my calf. I brace myself for the pain--I mean, she's already done this to my arms, back and other leg, so I should get used to it by now--

"OW!" I can't control myself; it's too much pain. 

"Shh!" snaps the maid behind me, who is tending to the tangled hair on my head, trying to brush it out somehow. She's been the most frustrated out of the five other women taking care of me, probably because I kept moving my head when she was washing it with that strange scented soap. 

I look over at my leg where the wax used to be, and it still shocks me how the hair is completely gone. It was like magic. Painful magic. I've read about using wax for hair removal before, but we never had it back at home. I might've used it if we had it back then, but this experience kind of ruined it for me. They waxed my entire body. I'd never wish this torture on anyone.

Let's just say, this isn't where I was expecting to end up when I was told they were "moving me". I thought I would just go to a worse jail cell, or be thrown into a coffin or something. Nothing like where I am now. As soon the guards dropped me off, five young maids in black and gold uniforms opened my cage, seized me, stripped me naked and threw me into a hot bath, where I had the blood, dirt and filth washed and scrubbed off my body, so hard I felt like my skin would peel off. Then after that they handed me a towel and rushed me to a small dressing room, where the shelves were covered in fancy cosmetics and scented soaps and the windows had silky, dark green drapes--a much, much prettier room than my jail cell, I can say. 

Understandably I suspicious as hell, but then I noticed that when they were bathing me they avoided my thigh wound--instead, one of the maids tended to that by herself, cleaning it, adding medicine and wrapping it up in a bandage. Wasn't it the king who opened my wound and ruined it in the first place? If he's the one ordering this now (which he has to be, no other person has the authority to let prisoners come and go), why is my injury being treated? Or a better, more obvious question: Why is this even happening right now???

I've been thinking about that long and hard, and I've come to a sure conclusion: I'm going to see and meet the Blood King again, for whatever reason. I'm being cleaned and dolled up so I can look presentable to him; it's disrespectful to appear in front of such royalty looking dirtier than a pig pen. Once I get to him, though, I'm not sure what'll take place. 

Is he going to sentence me to an execution because of my out-of-line behavior? That seems most likely. 

I tell myself this was bound to happen eventually. I just need to accept whatever happens. Try not to think about it yet. Try not to think about it yet.

Suddenly the door to the room bursts open; it's another maid, panting and catching her breath, probably from running. "You aren't done?!" she gasps to the other workers. "Hurry and clean up!! Court Lady Lon is almost here!" 

A flash of panic flies across everyone's faces, and they all rush to put the supplies away. One of them (I think she was the one who took measurements for my body) helps me stand myself up and face the door. I've barely secured the towel around my body before the door swings open. 

Before us stands an older, middle-aged woman, with a stern, serious face and a sharp look in her eye. Her dress, gold and dark green like the drapes on the windows, is elegant but not extravagant; she wears no jewelry either, and her graying hair is up in a tight bun. The maid said "court lady"--that means she isn't a royal or noblewoman. She's just a personal assistant, one who usually attends to those kind of people. She isn't of a high rank, but she's higher than the maids, who are all standing behind me with their heads bowed towards the her direction, not moving a muscle.