into the spa where we’ll be staying, pushing all thoughts of him away.
The inside of the building is even more gorgeous than I could have imagined, built of natural gray stone and slate flooring interlaced with large pebbles. One wall is taken up entirely by the largest stone hearth I’ve ever seen, while the one across from it’s made from thick yellow moss, rich green leaves, and dark ivy that snakes into intricate patterns. Three small, gently flowing waterfalls trickle from beneath the leaves, and the soothing sound is amplified by the large space.
“Is this the spa?” Ferrick asks skeptically, to which Nelly laughs.
“This is just where to check in! The spas are farther back in the building.”
My skin warms. Mission or not, I’ll be paying the spa a visit before I leave.
The moment we reach our rooms, I realize we’re the only ones staying here. We have the entire floor to ourselves, and Ilia and Nelly are quick to leave us to explore our rooms, insisting there’s more to do before tonight’s party.
“You have to try the baths,” Nelly says excitedly before the attendants take over for her, helping load our luggage into our suites. “There should already be one drawn up for you.”
And sure enough, as I make my way across slabs of unfinished stone flooring, I find a perfectly heated bath waiting for me inside with a collection of herbs floating atop steaming water. Hints of lemongrass and sage lure me toward the deep stone tub, where tendrils of heat spiral and lick my skin as I lean forward to breathe the scents.
Behind the bath is an iron wall of spice jars. Upon closer inspection, I find each of them has a tiny label written in elegant script, describing contents such as sandalwood or lavender. Rosemary and sea salt. There’s everything I could ever imagine and more—scented oils for your skin and hair. A bowl of warm, shimmering liquid that promises my curls will be glossier after using it. There are potions and tonics to scrub my skin clean and then replenish it again, and a wall lined with beauty products that sends my heart fluttering.
There are jars of rouge in every shade I can imagine. Dozens of lip stains, and kohl for the eyes. There are brushes and hair accessories, and absolutely anything I could ever want. And if I were to somehow want for something that’s not here—as impossible as that feels—there’s a rope in the corner where I can tape a note with what I need—whether it be food, a drink, fresh water for the bath, fresh clothing, a stylist, anything—and pulling it will alert the staff.
Stars, it’s no wonder my aunt and cousin frequented this place. I’d live like this forever if I could.
Goose bumps roll up my bare skin as I step into the water, and there’s a brief moment where all thoughts of my curse and mission melt away. I am not a queen; I’m just Amora.
And this, I could get used to.
* * *
I can’t fathom what silent creature must have delivered them while I was bathing, but as I return to my room there’s a collection of Curmanan outfits and jewelry laid out on the four-poster bed.
They’re nothing like the extravagant gowns I’ve worn to parties in the past; rather than thicker material like crepe or chiffon, the garments are comfortable linen or feather-soft silk. There are none of the tightly structured tops I’m used to. Everything is fluid and elegant.
While not outright lavish, the details built into the pieces are exquisite, from the intricate shoulder embellishments to the plunging neck and back lines. One satin dress has almost no fabric in the back at all, but golden gossamer threads that hold it together, shimmering like a dampened spiderweb.
Apart from the dresses, I’ve also been provided pantsuits as an option, and am immediately drawn to one made from silk. The top is a deep inky black with delicate shoulder straps made entirely of small onyx gemstones, cropped above the navel. There’s a lightweight cape resting beside it, shimmering and so sheer that I wonder whether it’s meant to provide any warmth at all.
I pull on the matching pants, cropped to my ankles. They billow out widely, so comfortable that I’m annoyed with Arida for not yet having adopted this style of fashion. As much as I love our tight, structured gowns, being able to eat without feeling as though I might suffocate will be a welcome reprieve.
I’ve just slipped