Zerena was already filled with cold anticipation by the time they arrived at the palace. The Prince explained that they would continue their search for more servants once she and Rosale were dropped off and taken care of, stating that the ones he selected from The House of Treasures and The Crag Mines would be arriving tomorrow afternoon. The former an hour's ride north, and the latter a two hour's journey south. She wondered what the others would be like, if they would be so willing to serve in the Palace as she was.
When the door to the white coach opens, the Royal Prince exits first, turning and extending his gloved hand to Zerena. She swallows and accepts his help, her legs aching in protest as she steps down onto the paved stone. Her mouth falls in awe as she takes in the sight of the Royal Palace, her head tilting back in an attempt to get a look at the highest tower. The castle seemed to be made of marble, it's walls gleaming a bright white and the rooftops glinting gold in the sun.
She feels a small, callused hand gently grabbing her wrist causing her to turn, lips closing as she takes in Rosale's warning look. The elder woman leans in, whispering so their conversation wouldn't be overheard by the Prince or his Royal Advisor.
"Do not forget what we are, Zerena. We will never be treated as their equals. We are still slaves. As long as magic and human blood runs through our veins, they will always fear us." She draws back, her pink lips a firm line.
"Come, ladies. I will escort you to the Head Maiden. She will take care of you both and get you settled." Lord Farrow interjects and they both whip their heads towards him.
"Wait-" Prince Tristan cuts in, stepping forward. "I meant to do this before we left, but now that we're here-" He holds up two silver keys, moving to Zerena first. She stares at the keys, a hand flying to the bracing iron collar around her throat as she realizes what they're meant to unlock. "Lift up your head, Miss Zerena."
As if in slow motion, she complies. Though she doesn't miss the surprised look on Lord Farrow's face as she tilts her chin, exposing the collar wrapped like a vice around her neck. Clearly Prince Tristan hadn't told him this part of the plan.
The Prince inputs the key, turns it, and with a beautiful sounding click, the wretched thing around her throat comes open. She lets it fall to the ground, enjoying the sound as it clatters loudly against the paved stone. She closes her eyes at the warm summer breeze kissing her newly exposed skin. In moments, her veins are already humming to life. She sucks in a breath, feeling her magic slowly beginning to awaken.
After years of not having it, Zerena would have thought she would be unable to use it ever again. That perhaps her body would be too weak to even attempt it. She would have to test it out later. The corners of her eyes begin to tingle but she swallows thickly, refusing to let the two men see how much this act truly affected her.
Rosale's collar comes next and she wears the same shocked expression when she, too, allows it to fall freely to the ground.
"In this Palace, the servants are not all strictly human. Some are Fae, Elves, Pixies, and Dwarves. All of them are allowed to use their talents, we find that it can prove useful in certain situations." Tristan smiles at them warmly and again Zerena's breath is blown away. She has never seen anyone so open to magic like this, she definitely hadn't expected it from the Royal Prince. "I don't see why it can't be the same for the Half-Bloods."
"Thank you." Zerena whispers, voice catching. Without the collar, her neck felt . . . bare. She felt . . . Free. Though Rosale's cryptic words still rang within her head, warning her to be wary of these people. Everything comes with a price. Maybe the reason they didn't need the collars was because if they used their magic for anything destructive, the punishment would be worse than twenty lashings and a day out on the post.
"Right this way, now, I will show you to the East Wing, where the Servant's Quarters are held." Lord Farrow finally speaks up. Zerena takes the first step towards the wide, polished marble staircase leading up to the grand entrance of the Palace. Her knees still stung from being shoved to the gravel the day previous, but she ignored it. Ignored the soreness in her thin legs as she and Rosale climbed the steps towards the palace together.
Will they truly give us warm meals?
The thought has her stomach twanging with hunger and she quickens her steps, letting out a sigh of relief when they finally reach the top. The elaborate, oak doors are protected by a Royal Guard standing at attention on either side, the men wearing creamy white uniforms with gold bordering the hem and the cuffs of their sleeves. Swords with ruby encrusted pommels are strapped to each of their hips. They offer Lord Farrow a nod in greeting, but they don't even spare a glance in Zerena's or Rosale's direction. She frowns at this, but does not take it to heart.
She realized what a sight the two of them must have been. Zerena begins to feel a bit embarrassed, wearing nothing but a torn potato bag and an oversized travel cloak borrowed from the Prince. Thankfully, the cloak hid most of her legs and upper body from from view, so no one could see her bloodied knee caps and the bruises that litter her pale skin. She spares a glance towards Rosale. At least the older woman appeared to be more put together. Though there was no hiding the shadows beneath her eyes or her sunken cheeks.
Zerena didn't have much time to look around as they walked through the wide passageways. Though there were tall windows lined every few feet, the glass panes shining brilliantly, not a smudge or finger print could be seen on them. They hooked a left, climbing a narrow stone staircase that spiraled up, up, up. Just when she thought her legs were going to give away and she'd be sent tumbling back down them, they reached the landing. Lord Farrow led them down yet another passageway, lined on either side with smaller wooden doors. He came to a stop at one of them, knocking gently with the back of his gloved hand.
The door swings open, revealing a figure clad in a golden yellow gown with a crisp white apron tied around her waist, her graying black hair upswept into a neat, tight bun. Her icy gaze lands on Zerena first before briefly flickering to Rosale, the two standing just behind Farrow, then looking at the elder man once more. Her lips were a thin line, her expression unreadable.
"What have you brought me here, My Lord?" The Head Maid questions, her voice like velvet despite her distant expression. "Are these the new servants?"
"Only two of them for now, the rest will be joining us tomorrow afternoon, Zara." Farrow answers. Zerena notices the wariness in his tone and wonders briefly if something had occurred between the two. "The Royal Prince requests that you see to them. One of them-" He gestures towards Zerena, "Is injured and will need a nurse. They will also require warm food and a hot bath."
"Yes, the bath I can see." The woman named Zara sniffs, though surprisingly her tone isn't too malicious. "Very well then, I will take them from here. You may go." She adds with a wave of her hand. Lord Farrow doesn't look happy at this, but he simply gives a small bow of his head before turning on his heel and heading back down the hall towards the spiral staircase.
Once the Advisor disappears down the steps, the Head Maid moves further into the passageway, closing the door firmly behind her. Zara regards the two once again before clapping her hands dramatically.
"Follow me, I already have junior maids waiting for you at your chambers." She begins walking in long strides. Zerena and Rosale hurry to catch up to her, forming a line behind the maid. "The next few days we will require nothing of you. You will be free to roam about the Palace and familiarize yourself with it. I will assign you your duties once you two have better rested and from there, the test will begin."
"Test?" Rosale questions, startling Zerena. It was the first word she's heard her speak in awhile. "What test?"
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"To see if you can handle serving in the Palace. If you have what it takes, then you will be reassigned to help with the Royal Family." Zara pauses in front of another door, where a younger looking woman stands just to the right of it. "If not, you will be sent back to where you come from. You will have three weeks to adjust." The Head Maid gestures to the junior maid, who moves quickly to open the door. "For right now, clean yourselves up. Eat. And then rest."
She points at Zerena, nodding at the door. "These are your chambers. Colette here will tend to your needs and I will fetch a nurse while you bathe." She turns to Rosale, the red-haired woman looking reluctant to leave Zerena alone.
"Go," Zerena offers a soft smile, waving her hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright? We'll be fine." Her friend lets out a sigh before nodding and following the Head Maid once more down the hall.
"Miss?" A tinkling voice sounds. Zerena turns, her smile disappearing as she looks at Colette. Her strawberry blonde hair is styled in the same tight bun as the Head Matron's. Instead of yellow, she wears a white dress, the puffy skirt stopping just above her knees. A golden apron is tied around her shoulders and Zerena wonders if this is the uniform the junior maids are required to wear. Perhaps she, too, will be wearing that dress in a few days time.
At least it's better than a tattered potato sack.
Zerena follows her inside the room, taking a moment to scan her surroundings. She was surprised at the decent size of it. There was a floor to ceiling window just across from her, with glass doors opening to what appeared to be a balcony. To her left sits a wardrobe, a dresser, and a white wooden vanity. To the right, pushed up against the pale blue painted wall was a bed larger than she was ever used to. She bites her lip, fighting back her shocked expression.
They were merely servants, and yet they were given such wonderful rooms. Zerena had to wonder why.
Colette walked further into the room with Zerena following closely behind. Attached to her bedroom was her very own bathing chamber. A claw-footed golden tub sat in the middle of the tile floor, a plush white rug laid out neatly next to it. The maid turns to Zerena, gesturing at her cloak.
"Please undress, miss..."
"Zerena." She answers with an incline of her head. "You can call me Zerena. I can bathe myself."
"The Head Maid specifically requested me to assist you." Colette states, the politest of smiles on her lips. "So please, undress, and I will take care of your robes."
Zerena sighs, removing her arms from the borrowed cloak. She folds the fabric neatly, placing it atop the wooden chair in the corner. She feels the sack already beginning to slip from her shoulders and her hands fly to hold it up. She swallows, glancing up at the maid, who is now regarding her with a questioning stare in her sea-blue eyes.
"Have they . . . told you anything about us? About the new servants that the Prince is hiring?" Zerena questions, managing to keep her voice even as she finally allows the sack to fall to the floor, glad to be rid of the scratchy fabric. Colette shakes her head gently, her expression seeming to soften just a bit. She crosses her arms over her chest in a poor attempt at covering herself. She felt so vulnerable, standing almost naked in front of a complete stranger. Though she supposes this isn't the first time.
"No, Miss. They only told us to help with anything they - you - may require." She answers, voice quiet.
"Please, just call me Zerena. I'm going to be working alongside you soon, Colette." The other woman looks surprised at those words, her shoulders relaxing. Zerena steps towards the tub, removing the last bits of clothing from her body. She refrains from looking down at herself, not wishing to see the ridges of her ribs poking from her skin or the bruises and scars that mar her ghostly pale flesh.
Colette stands close by, offering her arm for balance as Zerena places her right foot in the steaming water. She hisses, her eyes closing as she feels the hot liquid already relaxing her muscles. She eagerly steps her other foot in, sliding the rest of herself down so only her chin hovers above the water. The smell of lavender and vanilla hits her nose and she opens her eyes again, turning to see a scrub brush and a vial in Colette's hands.
The other woman is seated on a stool just behind the tub, handing Zerena the glass vial first. She sits up, grabbing the brush as well. She pours the vial, watching in awe as the thick, clear liquid settles on top of the bristles. Zerena begins scrubbing herself, breathing in the calming scent of the soap and working it into a lather on her skin, washing away the years of grime, sweat, and dirt. Colette helps scrub her back, being careful of the stinging cuts.
Once she's finished washing her body, Zerena dunks her head underneath the water, holding herself there for a few quiet moments before re-emerging, her hair soaking.
"Would you like for me to wash your hair?" Colette asks kindly, holding a different vial in her hand. This one smells vaguely of roses, but it isn't too overpowering. Zerena nods, pushing the water back from her face. She sits back against the tub, holding in a sigh at the sensation of the shampoo being lathered into her ocean blue tresses. Colette works swiftly, yet diligently, massaging her scalp and making sure each strand of her hair is cared for.
Her scalp tingles at the feeling of being actually clean. Whenever they were allowed to bathe themselves at the Farmhouse, they were only given a bucket with cold water and a rag. That came once or twice a week. Here, she would be allowed to wash whenever she wished. Something Zerena fully intends to take advantage of.
Once Colette finishes with her hair, she grabs a fluffy white towel, and while Zerena longed to sit in the tub and soak a little while longer, the smell of food wafting from her chambers has her standing, using the towel to dry off her hair and the rest of her body. The maid hands her a golden, silky robe next. Zerena swiftly slips into it, tying the sash securely around her thin waist.
She pads back into the main room of her chambers to find a silver tray with domed lids covering multiple glass plates atop the small table centered just near the window. Her stomach rumbles, but she glances towards Colette first.
"Thank you," She whispers, to which the maid bows her head.
"The nurse will be here soon. If you need anything, my chambers are just across the hall. I will fetch you in the morning to escort you to breakfast." With that, the young woman slips quietly out of the room, closing the oak door with a gentle click.
Zerena exhales, her mind reeling as she sits down to enjoy her dinner.
Enjoying my dinner, that sure is a first. She thinks, removing the cover from the biggest plate. Her mouth waters at the sight of warm food: roasted chicken breast, baked potato, broccoli with melted cheddar cheese. Though she wants nothing more than to dig in right away, she opens the other plates, delighted to find a bowl of warm tomato soup and a slice of cheesecake with a sweet looking strawberry glaze dripping down the pastries front.
She hasn't seen a meal like this in years, and while it may seem normal to most people, it was something she wouldn't take for granted.
Zerena picks up her fork and knife, hoists the first bite of chicken to her lips, and places it into her mouth. Her tastebuds roar to life at the flavor. She finishes her meal in less than ten minutes. She's only just pushing her plate away when she hears a soft knocking on her door. She jumps, hesitating, but then realizes that it must be the nurse.
"Come in," She calls and immediately another young woman walks in, though Zerena has to do a double take at her appearance. The woman's brown skin seems to glow even in the dim candlelight, her cheeks dusted with some type of silver powder. But what really stuck out to her were the woman's ears. They weren't round, but shaped into delicate points. Small, silver hoops ran from the lobes all the way up the shell, and Zerena wonders how badly it hurt when she got them pierced.
"I was sent to look after your wounds." The nurse states, a warm smile on her thick brown lips as she approaches, carrying a black leather satchel. "If you could take a seat on the bed, then I can begin."
Zerena nods stiffly, moving from the chair to the mattress. To her amazement, the bed was just as soft as it looked. She moves her robe to the side, revealing her knee caps - which were still looking red and angry even after her bath. The Nurse kneels in front of her, pulling a glass jar from her satchel and removing the lid with a soft pop.
"What is that?" Zerena questions, eyeing the pearly ointment as the nurse dips her fingers in it.
"It's a salve made with herbs grown right here at the Palace gardens, this will prevent infection and help you heal quickly." At Zerena's wary look, she smiles. "I've sworn an oath to help all injured, I promise on my life this will not harm you." A pause, and then Zerena nods, gesturing for the Nurse to continue.
Gently, she applies the salve to the cuts on her knees. Zerena winces, expecting it to hurt, but all she feels is a gentle tingling and a cooling sensation prickling her skin. Next, the half-elf turns to lay on her stomach, lowering the robe around her waist so the nurse could tend to the larger cuts received from the lashings. She couldn't believe it had only been a day since the Master had beaten her so terribly. Zerena hears a gasp from the other woman and winces as she asks softly,
"Where did you receive these?"
"From a place not kind to people like me." Zerena murmurs, eyes closing as she feels the ointment being applied to her back. She was glad for the instant relief of the pain and itchiness.
"So it's true?" She questions, not a hint of judgement in her voice. "You are a half-elf?"
Zerena frowns, turning her head to the side. "And what if I am? Are you going to shun me?"
"No, never." The nurse shakes her head. Once done, she steps back, allowing Zerena to pull the bathrobe up once more. "I always hated how they treated your kind - and the others. I'm a full-blooded Elf. To me, we are equals."
Zerena's navy blue eyes narrow at this as she tries to ignore her swelling irritation. The situation she was placed in was not this woman's fault, and yet . . .
"You always hated it, but have you tried to do anything about it?" She snaps, the question harsher than intended. The nurse shakes her head, lowering her golden gaze in what looked to be shame. "You couldn't have hated it that much, then." Zerena pauses, then lets out a sigh. "Thank you for the salve. I'm . . . tired and would like to sleep."
Tired didn't even begin to explain how she felt, but it was the only word that came to mind at the moment. The nurse gave an understanding nod, leaving the jar of salve on the nightstand near the bed before slipping out the door.
Finally, Zerena could truly relax. She blew out the candles, allowing only the moonlight to illuminate her room as she falls back into her bed. She pulls the sheets over her body, curling herself into a protective ball, her still damp hair feathered on the pillow, and allows herself to give into her exhaustion.