It's so fucking nice to get clean I almost forget to be worried. Like in Katharn, there's an old system of pipes running through the Novoro keep, and while the bathroom quarters are shared and not what I'm used to, they're a hell of a lot better than washing in two inches of tepid water in a tub like I did in Katharn. The “bath” is a pool room with hot water and waiting serving girls who wash us with sponges and floral soaps. Yulenna lets them wash her, and since she's the one “in charge” I don't bitch about it, even though I'm creeped out by strangers running wet sponges over my skin.
The hot water helps, though, as does the cleansing wash they put in my hair. When they comb it out for me, it feels clean for the first time in weeks, and I don't even mind that they smooth scented lotion into my skin and rub a gentle, textured stone over my legs that makes the hair disappear as if sanded away. The bath at Novoro gets an A plus as far as I'm concerned.
It gets a little weird when Lady Gerline returns with clothes for us, though.
"Yours are being washed and tended to," she explains with bow after scraping bow. "It is custom for honored guests of Novoro to share, however, and I have brought two of my favorite feast gowns. It would bring great honor to our hall if you would wear them."
Her smile is guileless and sweet, and she looks as if she'd love nothing more than for us to wear her clothes. Weird people. I let her and her servants help me dress, and they help Yulenna at the same time. When I'm “clothed” though, I have concerns. It's a soft, lovely gown, sure. It's the same dark navy shade that is favored by the Novoro people and is thick and warm, with a pretty white fur trim on the hem.
The neckline is open to my waist, though.
So's the slit in the skirt.
I clear my throat gently, a silent question on my lips as I play with the (one, small) tie at the waist that holds it together. "Are we missing a piece?"
"Feast wear is very formal," Lady Gerline says, with a downright devastated look on her face. "Do you not like the dress?"
"It's very nice," I reassure her, and I'm relieved when her expression turns into a smile again. Jesus, you'd think I'd kicked a kitten the way she looked so upset. Someone comes forward with a thick, wide belt, and I relax. Obviously we're not done dressing. Thank goodness.
I lift my arms and remain still as servants cinch my waist in the ornately tooled black leather belt, and my fingers brush over Aron's symbol. They didn't know he was coming, so all the axes etched into this leather means they truly do worship him. It's a good sign. With the belt on, my dress doesn't gape open nearly as far, but the slightest breeze will expose everything in a completely scandalous matter. I tug and fuss at the fur hems, but stop when I see that another woman sweeps down the hall in a gown just like mine. All right, then. When in Rome and all that.
"Let me fix your hair for you," a servant says, and I'm ushered to a padded stool in front of a copper mirror. "Does your lord prefer your hair up or down?"
It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her that he doesn't get a say, but then I remember I'm supposed to be the concubine. "Let's go with up."
"And you, my lady anchor?" Lady Gerline asks Yulenna politely as another waiting woman combs out Yulenna's thick red tresses.
"I'll be staying in my chambers this night," she says in an imperious voice, making it sound as if she's the lady of the castle and not Gerline. "You can have my food sent up here."
Lady Gerline looks shocked. "Oh…but my Lord of Storms must have a companion for the feast. It is tradition." She wrings her hands, distressed.
"The concubine can go," Yulenna says with a flick of her hand and then yawns. "I am weary."
"That's right," I say brightly before Lady Gerline can protest. "Aron's asked for me tonight." And I give her an exaggerated wink.
A look of relief crosses her face. "Very good."
Yulenna retires to the sleeping chambers and I'm left alone with Lady Gerline and the serving maid. Lady