Page 11 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“Then you shall play with me. Earn your ample paycheck.”
Adeline dumped a jug of water over his head.
He blinked rapidly, poised like a startled cat. “What was that for!”
“I’m bathing you. It’s part of the process.”
“You didn’t need to do it so aggressively!”
“Was that aggressive?” said Adeline sweetly. “My apologies, Master.”
He shook his head, his red eye covered with sopping fur. He looked like a startled puppy, and a small laugh escaped her.
“Why are you laughing?” he hissed.
“Well, I am ridiculous, like you said.” She started scrubbing his hair, pulling it into peaks that went unnoticed by him but amused her greatly.
“You’ve done this before.”
“I have little brothers and sisters.”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“What are they like?”
“Much better behaved than you, that’s for sure. Stay still. I don’t want to get any soap in your eyes.”
“I’m not entirely sure I believe you.” He pursed his lips, one of the few parts of his face not corrupted by the monstrous side of him. Even the bridge of his nose was marred by the thick fur, one nostril wider than the other. “Are you this rough with them?”
“Oh, much rougher.”
She dumped another jug on his head, rinsing it free of the soap and rubbing it dry with a towel. It stuck up everywhere, dark fur and light hair combined. Despite how rough he looked, his fur was soft beneath her fingers, his hair even more so, like fine satin.
“Do you need me to dry the rest of you?”
Both eyes widened, and one cheek prickled with colour. She hadn’t noticed before how gaunt and colourless his right half was, but it stood out now, beneath the pink. “No, no,I can do it myself!”
Adeline tried to take no satisfaction in his embarrassment. She tried. And she failed.
“I’ll lay out some clothes for you.”
She went over to the wardrobe. It was packed with elegant waistcoats and fine jackets, silk and velvet, embroidered cuffs and collars. She had a feeling they would all be rejected, and instead selected a pair of dark breeches and a long shirt, like he always wore, and hung them over the screen.
She could hear him patting himself dry, struggling into his clothes.
“How old are you, Adeline?” he asked, dispelling the silence.
“Eighteen.”
He paused. “You look older.”
She suspected this was supposed to be an insult, but she couldn’t be sure. “Hard work will do that to you.”
“Or a curse.”
There was a brevity to his voice, unused and rusty, but light all the same. A laugh squirmed out of her. “That was a joke, wasn’t it? You made a joke.”
