Page 44 of The Catacomb King
Panic spiked my heart. “Don’t tell me they’re not ready,” I said, a little wildly. “We don’t have time to waste. I’m getting drowned in two days!”
“Theywillbe there. I’ll make sure of it. Get dressed.”
“I am dressed.”
Hades put down his bowl of rice and regarded me, tangled in the black silk sheets in my shitty rag-dress. His expression was distinctly unimpressed. “Those are the same clothes you wore yesterday.”
“It’s not as if anyone gave me pajamas.”
His scowl deepened. There was a slight upward tilt, though, at the outer corners of his eyebrows. Was I making it up, or did he look… embarrassed?
“Get the lady some clothes,” he ordered Elke. “And give her a bath.”
Both Elke and I gasped. “Your Lordship,” Elke protested, “the water —”
“Give the woman a bath,” Hades repeated. “She needs it.” And then, before I could even find anything to throw at him, he said, “Thesefuckingpeople!” and swept off, presumably to treat someone else like shit for a change.
“Don’t worry,” I said to Elke, who was somehow managing to wring her nonexistent hands. “I’m not taking a bath in a drought. These tone-deaf royals, am I right?”
“No, His Lordship is not usually like that. He’s typically very careful about that sort of thing. Mütte Persephone —”
“What’d you call me?”
“…Persephone?” Elke squeaked.
“No, no, that other word. Mootah?”
“Mütte,” Elke said. “Oh, do not tell His Lordship I called you that. It was an accident.”
“What’s it mean?” I demanded.
“It’s not an insult,” Elke squeaked. “Please. I’ll draw you a bath.”
“Elke!”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
She was about to leave. To waste tons of water on a bath for me. “No, wait, wait, wait. Fine. I won’t tell. But, Elke, don’t draw me a bath. I’ll feel bad.”
“His Lordship…”
“Fuck His Lordship,” I said. Elke gasped. “Just bring me, I don’t know, a rag or something so I can wipe my face. Please,” I added.
Elke went away and brought back a small jug of water and a cloth, as well as a pile of clothes that she carried in two of her more minor legs. I forced myself to use an ounce of the water to wet the rag and wipe my face and hands and under my arms and between my legs. I drank the rest of the jug instead of rinsing the cloth. The water was silty but so, so good. “Where’s this from?”
“His Majesty’s spring. It’s His Lordship’s own water ration. He instructed me that you should have it.”
“Wow, so generous. I’ll make sure to thank him when he lets me the hell out of here.” I pointed to the clothes pile. “What’s that?”
Elke spread the pile on the bed. Dubiously, I picked up the first item. It was a white negligée, so sheer it was nearly see-through. The bust and hem were trimmed heavily with handmade lace.
The only place I had seen that lace pattern before was in Mrs. Stammerer’s closet.
My knees weakened. I had never held anything so expensive. But still, I held it up to myself — it barely skimmed the bottom of my ass! — and looked at Elke. “Elke.”
“You said you needed pajamas,” Elke said weakly.
I laid the negligée on the pillow — neatly, I couldn’t help myself — and turned my attention to the other clothes. The next thing I picked up was a violet ballgown. The lace on it was older and yellower and even more intricate than the lace on the negligée. Corset strings dangled from every eyelet. There were so many of them that you could probably choke yourself getting dressed if you weren’t careful.
