Page 52 of Of Stars and Lightning
The royal dinner approached quickly, and though Sol had initially chosen to ignore her blatant lack of preparedness, the closer it loomed, the more her inexperience stared her right in the face.
She had grown keen at pretending to at least be poised in front of the castle-dwellers but didn’t think she’d have the confidence to keep up such a neat façade with the nobles.
The day of the dinner, Nina finally agreed to let Sol sleep in. She didn’t take it for granted. Sol woke only to shut the curtain to her room once the sun began to bleed in, then buried herself back into the cover of the extravagant quilts and duvets.
The first few nights, Sol mostly spent exploring her assigned quarters. Never in her life had she seen such a luxurious space. It was a little unnerving. To a degree, it made her feel guilty she was assigned such a space when Leo and Mina lived in a one-bedroom cottage. While Lora remained in their cottage—if the Jinn had left it standing.
Aside from the agitating silence and foreign surroundings making it difficult to focus, the fate of her town and family left her restless. There hadn’t been a single night since she left that she wasn’t plagued by nightmares of beady eyes and her Aunt’s expression right as they were torn apart.
Although Lora told Sol to go, to survive, the guilt made it difficult.
Sol watched the ceiling with a lazy gaze when a series of knocks at her door made her flinch.
“Princess Yarrow!” a ragged, but feminine, voice called.
Sol veered sideways and looked at the front door, past her bedroom door and the living area. The wooden frame shook again as more knocks sounded.
“I’m coming in!” the voice declared as the door eased open to reveal a small woman with silvering hair tied in a knot atop her head and beige skin wrinkled with age.
Sol shimmied deeper into the covers, only letting her eyes peek at the stranger.
“Please don’t call me that,” she mumbled. It still sounded foreign.
The woman waddled in, a tray in one hand, and clothes on the other. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard you dislike formalities, Princess.” She set the tray down on the mahogany desk, her brown skirts swaying with each step. “However, you must get used to it, especially as there will be lots of them tonight.”
She swirled toward the bedroom and met Sol’s gaze. Her eyes were brown, kind, and crafted with wisdom. Still, Sol recoiled further into the bed. The woman narrowed her eyes at her and wrinkled her nose. “Are you truly still in bed? It’s almost noon.”
Sol blinked at her. “It’s been a long few days.”
“And the long days are just beginning, Princess.”
Sol angled her head toward the hallway, still only exposing her eyes. She glared at Sawyer. “Nina said I could sleep in today.”
Her cousin leaned against the doorway and shrugged. “Yeah, sleep in. Not sleep all day. You must get ready for the dinner. It’s noon.” Sawyer stepped into her room and sighed. “And it might take the entire time to fix you up.”
Sol had only worn casual gowns since their arrival, and the rest of them kept mostly to their tactical uniforms. However, it seemed even her Court was to dress up tonight.
Sawyer wore a deep red gown, resplendent against her tanned skin and soft curves. Her toned arms were adorned by carefully embroidered lace sleeves, and she wore her hair in a casual knot around her head. It was an easy sort of beauty, one Sol couldn’t help but admire. The Fire Wielder frowned. “What?”
“I’ve only seen you in dirty leather suits,” Sol said, sitting up. “Are you all finally to suffer with me and wear ridiculous gowns?”
“Nope, still just you.” Sawyer grabbed an apple from the tray the woman brought in.
The woman swatted her hand away. “Sawyerlyn, I will be sure to get you a more uncomfortable gown if you don’t shoo. I need to get started.”
Waltzing into Sol’s bedroom, the woman yanked her comforter to the floor. Sol only heard Sawyer’s protest and what might have been a mocking, “Good luck.”
THE WOMAN’SNAMEwas Francis. She introduced herself as she dragged Sol to the washroom, then said she would be her assigned handmaid as she tore her nightgown off.
Sol tried to evade the large, circular mirror that hung across the bathtub, but as Francis practically pushed her into the steaming, oil-infused water, she caught a glimpse of her dusty-blonde hair, pulled into pin curls Nina had hastily pinned before their first meetings. Her skin was still flushed from the journey in the sun, and even the recent night’s rest hadn’t erased the purple shadows under her eyes. Her gaze snagged on her abdomen, and she flinched at the thin, raised scar that trailed across it.
She looked away as quickly as she could and sank into the tub.
It was horrifying to have the woman scrub her down. Sol suddenly felt like the goats at Leo’s, who they hosed down and washed once every few weeks to get rid of their grime. The goats would scream relentlessly the whole time, and Sol was a scented lotion away from doing the same herself.
“When was the last time you brushed your hair, child?” Francis pulled the wooden brush through Sol’s hair, the rickety thing nearly snapping in half.
She bit back tears. “I fell asleep before I could work through it.”
