Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,96

bath just through that door,” she says, locking the door behind her. “I’ll sort you some clean clothes. Don’t dally, we haven’t much time.”

A bath.

My throat contracts. My eyes well up. It’s ridiculous. I know that. But it’s the kindest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

As much as I’d like to explore this place and ask her questions about each and every item, I don’t know how long we have so I nod and make quickly for the door on the far side of the spacious room.

The bath is real—attached to the plumbing and not just a tin that has to be filled with countless hot pails like the one at the carnival—and I waste no time putting in the plug and turning the taps on full. I grab a bottle from the side, which I realize is where the smell of roses comes from when I pour a little in.

Bubbles foam instantly. I strip off and sit in the tub while I wait for it to fill. I can already feel the tension melting away from my muscles. The water turns a darker shade when I scrub my aching legs with my hands.

It’s been so long since I had a bath. I used to love them, making deals with the boys to fetch me more scorching water once the tin had cooled. I’d spend the entire morning in there reading if I didn’t have a rehearsal.

That remembrance leads to another one.

My tin bathtub, and my boys who’d do anything for a hairpin or an earring. Back to my life of pretty dresses and even prettier dancing. Back to Ruby, to Denim, to Scout. How I’ve missed his cheeky little face. He was always my favorite.

It feels like another life. Like a dream.

Or maybe it’s this life that is the dream.

It’s so hard to tell now.

Back to Maxim.

I was just a little girl when I met him. I can’t even remember how I got there. I only remember being terrified of the red-painted face, eyes black with horns attached to his head, and I remember hiding behind Denim’s leg. Somehow Denim was safe, though I’m not sure how I would have known that.

But I was special to Maxim, and I warmed to him quickly.

Maxim, who would have let a giant crush me just to line his pockets. Who would have watched me drown alive if Baron hadn’t saved me.

I fold my legs and lean back, letting my hair fall into the water. I can’t think like that—like Baron saved me. That’s exactly what Baron would want. He’s tried to warp my reality since the day I met him, twisting who is good and who is bad. What is real and what isn’t. What is true and what is false.

Maybe the only truth is that they are all just as bad as each other.

And this boy inside me will grow up to be just as bad as the rest of them. Perhaps worse, if his father gets his way.

How do you make a person great?

You obliterate everything that makes them a person.

My poor little boy.

I close my eyes and submerge my head completely underwater. This bath isn’t good. Too much thinking time. I stand up and a wave of lightheadedness has me reaching for the tiles. There’s a knock at the door before it passes, and I tell Celeste I’m coming.

I towel off as soon as I’m able and wrap it around me before answering.

“There’s tea on the table,” she says, pointing to the small seating area in front of a quilt-covered bed. “Clothes, too.”

I make my way over, hearing the tapping of wood follow behind me at a slower pace.

“Things were normal when I was young,” she says. “Well, normal for me at least. They had already abandoned the cities. Lots of important men had lots of important meetings, and they saw what was coming before the common people did.”

“They prepared for it?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of a comfortable chair while I wait for my skin to dry properly.

Celeste nods. “We lived in fortified communities, each one with a leader and everything else a small community would need to survive. The capital community—the biggest of them all—that was my home, and my father the leader. And I was happy. I had everything I ever needed.”

She takes the seat at the other side of the table and picks up her cup of tea. “I was fourteen when my father dragged me into his office.