over her head, suspended from the ceiling by a series of ropes and pulleys.
Two women stood on either side of her. They held beige sponges, soaked in cold water, and they used them to clean Tressa’s body of the sand. She looked down, surprised to see herself completely naked on the pallet.
“Where are my clothes?” She tried to sit up, but one of the women placed a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her down.
“All is well. Relax. Allow us to serve the promised of the First Guard of the Yellow Queen of Risos.”
Promised? Her heart raced.
“Where’s Jarrett?” Tressa asked.
“Your master awaits you. Until you have been cleansed, you are not to see him. A man such as the First cannot be burdened with a grimy bride to be. If you are not clean, he may throw you naked into the desert, allowing your flesh to be eaten away by the sand.” The woman smiled, her toothy grin belying the harsh words she’d spoken.
Tressa lay still, wishing they’d work faster. If Jarrett was prancing around the oasis telling people she was his promised, then they needed to have words.
After what felt like days, Tressa was given a gown of pale gossamer. She suspected her own clothes had been thrown away or repurposed as liner in a stable. Even the attendants who’d bathed her wore gowns finer than anything Tressa had ever laid eyes on.
They offered to assist her in slipping the gown on, but Tressa insisted dressing herself. The two women exchanged a knowing glance and left her alone. The fan above continued to move up and down. As soon as she was dressed, Tressa intended to find out how the fan moved on its own.
The gown slid over her body, accentuating every curve, every muscle she’d developed over the last few months. The fine fabric draped as if it were made for her body, falling delicately to her toes. It was then she realized her hair cascaded in waves down her back.
She’d cut her hair not long ago, keeping it short while she pretended to be a man of the Black Guard. Now her hair was longer than ever before. Tressa nestled her fingers into the crown of her hair, raking through the strands. At the base of her neck, she felt something strange. A small knot. No, a large grouping of knots.
So they’d found a way to add length to her hair. Tressa felt a sigh of relief. For a moment she’d feared she’d passed out and been unconscious for months. She laughed at her foolishness. This must all be part of making her beautiful for Jarrett.
As his promised—she couldn’t help but snort when she thought the word—she would need to be beautiful. Well, if beauty bought safety and help for the missing people of Hutton’s Bridge, she wouldn’t fight it.
After slipping on a pair of sandals, Tressa walked back over to the fan. She eyed the pulley, following the rope to a hole in the top of the tent, where it disappeared to the outside. She parted the heavy silks and peered into another small tent attached to her own. A man sat on a wooden seat, his feet pedaling slowly, pulling the ropes back and forth in rhythm with the fan. She marveled at the invention. It was so simple in its construction, yet so ingenious. Yet she felt a stab of shame. This man’s only job was to pedal endlessly just so she could have a light breeze in the tent.
“You can stop,” she whispered to him. “I’m okay.”
He startled, his eyes snapping wide. He mumbled a series of words incoherent to her foreign ears, his hands flailing in the air. He pedaled faster, his cheeks puffed out with exertion. Tressa let the silks fall and she retreated into the tent.
Jarrett had told her he worked for the queen, but she never expected this level of importance.
The silks parted, and the two women entered again. “He is waiting for you. Please, follow us.”
Tressa did as they asked, curious what else lay beyond the tent. She stepped into the cool night air. Without the harsh sun beating down and the shrieking wind reduced to a light breeze, the Sands seemed like a whole new world to Tressa.
Stars twinkled in an unending black sky, lighting up the desert with a thousand cosmic lanterns. A spicy aroma wafted past Tressa’s nose, enticing her senses. Everything was so different. So beautiful. Perhaps the Sands weren’t as terrible as she’d