Page 147 of Hell Bound

“Fine.”

Crussian actually looked slightly relieved, but I thought it was more because he wouldn’t have to report back to Asmodeus that I was being difficult than any actual care for me spending the night amongst my own dead bodies.

He spun on his heel and disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived.

Gilémé pulled a cloth from her dress pocket, dipping it in the water and wringing out the excess. Tavila left her bucket and came to me, stepping around behind to unfasten my dress.

Or to fucking tear it off of me.

She yanked the fabric so hard I heard it rip at my back.

“What the hell!”

That didn’t stop her. She yanked again and again until the dress pooled at my feet, now nothing more than a heap of useless satin.

I stood there naked, and more than a little embarrassed. Filthy, smelly, and just overall gross. It wasn’t through any fault of my own, but my cheeks still burned.

Tavila yanked the former dress from beneath my feet, nearly tripping me as she did.

“I swear to god, Tavila. Keep fucking trying me and you’ll get what you’re asking for.”

“Promises, promises,queen.”

I clenched my fist to swing, but as I went to raise it, Gilémé took hold. She rubbed the cloth up and down my arm, cleaning away days of accumulated grime.

“We should let her do it herself, Gil. She’s not worth the amount of work we have to put in.”

“We have our orders, Tavila.”

“So? What will happen if the queen washes her own filth? Nothing. She doesn’t deserve—”

“Enough!” Gilémé snapped, shocking the shit out of both of us. “I know you have problems with the queen from your girlhood, but she is stillour queen. She’s been nothing but kind to me, even though she receives nothing but abuse.”

“You don’t know—”

“I know what I need to. If you can’t perform your duties, I’ll be more than happy to inform the king so he can find you an alternative function within the palace for you to utilize your skills.” She looked Tavila over thoughtfully. “You’re good on your back. Perhaps he can have you service the guards.”

Oh, shiiiiiit!

My jaw dropped. Tavila’s clenched. Her face was a brilliant red as rage suffused her, and it was all I could do not to cackle at the glorious takedown.

Gilémé returned to washing me, and I began to feel like an actual human-demoness again instead of a sentient pile of garbage.

“Thank you, Gilémé, I—”

My words were lost as a bucket of water was dumped over my head.

“What the fuck?” I shrieked, scrubbing the water from my eyes and spitting out what had found its way into my mouth.

Tavila lowered the bucket, eyes blazing. “I’m simply doing my duties, as assigned. You were washed, and now you're rinsed.”

I knew I looked like a wet cat, stringy clumps of my black and red hair cascading down my body and dripping onto the floor.

Gilémé glared at Tavila, but since they hadn’t brought a towel or other clothes, all she could do was run her hands over my body trying to scrape away the excess water.

I gathered my long hair and wrung it out like a wet dishrag, and it smelled about as good. I couldn’t wait for us to get to my room so I could take a real bath and scrub my scalp raw.

The two women left the cell ahead of me, carrying their buckets and the dirty cloth and dress. I hated that I was being led out of my prison in the nude, but it was a quick trek to my rooms. I could handle it for a few moments.

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