Chapter 7

ASTRID

Just like that, I’m inside of MoonCrest Castle for the very first time.

A place I never imagined I would step foot if I’m honest. Gyles leads me into some sort of dressing chamber, where maids hurriedly rid me of my stinking tunic, leggings, and boots and wrap me in a cream-colored robe.

It’s a relief, not being crusted in sweat and dirt and blood. But it’s also unnerving, seeing the last traces of my former life vanish in a snap.

The room I’m in is small but lush, a velvet fainting couch in one corner, an ornate privacy screen in the other, woven from what looks like silk.

The stone floor is covered in a thick bearskin rug. I wonder if the Ashton pack itself took the animal down.

As I’m surveying my surroundings, the door opens.

I whip around, assuming a fighting stance. I don’t need my knife to throw a wicked right hook.

But the man who walks into the room, who appears to be in his mid-thirties and well assured of his own importance, simply raises a brow at me, as if to ask what in Phaegia I think I’m doing. Truthfully, I’m not sure.

“I’m Jules,” he says, his voice surprisingly high. “Minister of Pets. And you, apparently, are my newest project.”

Among the thousands of questions swirling in my mind, one surfaces: “Are you human?”

Jules looks mildly affronted, but he nods. His smaller stature and dark, thinning hair told me his answer well before he did.

It’s a long shot, I know, but I have to try to appeal to him.

“Please,” I say. “I will do everything you ask of me, I will dedicate my whole life to your pet project, if you only let me leave the castle for a little while. I need to see my little brother.”

Jules appraises me before responding simply, “You know I’m not going to do that.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head in frustration. “I don’t know that. I don’t know why you would choose to serve these monsters in the first place, especially over your own kind.” I take a deep breathe, change my tone. “I only need an hour, at most. He has no idea what happened to me. I have no idea if he’s okay. Please, I just have to see him.”

“Well, clearly you are a rude, stupid girl who will take every ounce of my talent to fix up,” Jules says. “But mark my word, by the end of our training, you’ll be exactly what Prince Cayden is looking for.”

I open my mouth to argue back, but he holds his hand up.

“There’s no point,” he says. “I won’t risk my life or livelihood. Surely you understand that, even if you pretend to be better than it.”

Indignant shame floods my cheeks because I do know it. Of course I do. I wouldn’t have risked myself for him, either.

Jules steps toward me but then flinches back. “My stars, you smell rank. When’s the last time you bathed?”

It’s a good question.

The bathhouse is too pricey, boiling water wastes precious resources, and hiking to the river takes half a day that I could spend pickpocketing.

I shrug.

“Lord knows what Cayden sees in you,” Jules mutters, inspecting me from afar. He walks to the door, sticks his head out, and calls for two maids. “They’ll escort you to the bathhouse. We can’t start painting until we have a clean canvas.”

The dressing room was impressive, but the bathhouse is luxurious.

There are soaps and salts of every scent and steaming water thick with bubbles. As one maid prepares my bath, the other tends to the wound on my shoulder. To distract myself from the pain, I ask her name. She doesn’t answer. I ask how long she’s worked in the castle. Nothing.

When she leads me to the bath and hands me over to the other maid, I try to ask that woman her name. She gives only a mute stare in response.

Above the tub, a circular window covered in oilcloth lets in light and the hint of a breeze. It’s small, but so am I. If I only had the room to myself for a second, I could try and squeeze through it. But that’s wishful thinking. There’s no way I’ll be left unattended here.

When the maids disrobe me, I instinctively try to cover up my exposed ribcage, my small breasts, the patch of hair between my legs. No one has seen these parts of my body in years, not since my mother bathed me as a child. I haven’t even taken the time to look at these parts of myself.

But the maids scrub me from head to toe without any sign of embarrassment. I’m just another task for them to check off their list. I can’t help but note how careful they are around my wound, though, making sure not to irritate the torn, puffy skin too badly. At least I’m a task they’re committed to doing well.

When they pull me from the tub, the water is coppery brown, and I feel cleaner than I have in years.

Surreptitiously, I glance around the bathhouse, looking for small trinkets I may be able to palm later on.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll be able to leave the castle every once in a while, and sneak small objects of worth to Luca, things he can pawn in the market that won’t attract attention.

I couldn’t appeal to Jules, but if I can present myself just right to Prince Cayden, maybe he’ll grant me a short leave from castle grounds.

As the maids dress me, though, I have a sinking feeling that it will be that bad.

Two gauzy triangles of fabric cover my breasts, so thin you can see my nipples. A similar swatch of fabric hangs low around my waste, barely covering my buttocks. The robe they wrap around me now is equally flimsy.

I’ve only ever seen such outfits at the brothels. They’re a distasteful place to search out marks, but there’s no man more distracted than a man leading with his cock. I’ve brought in some of my largest hauls from brothels.

I never expected to look like I work in one.

However, when Jules looks me over back in the dressing room, he seems pleased.

“It’s no worker of wonders, that bath,” he says. “You still have a ways to go, but for now, we can at least work with”—he gestures to my lanky body—“this.”

As I stand in the middle of the dressing room, Jules circles me, assessing.

“Far too skinny,” he says. “And you hold your face in the most wretched manner. Smooth out your forehead. No, not like that. Yes! Yes, there it is. Now quit scowling. It’s a privilege to be in this castle, and your face better show it, especially in front of your new master.”

He paused, thoughtful, and taps his finger to his lips.

“You know, I’m surprised Prince Cayden even deigned to take a human pet. You really should feel lucky. Chosen. From this moment on, all you are is all Prince Cayden desires. Forgot your wishes, your dreams, hell, even your name. You are his now, and his alone.” He smiles wickedly at me. “Some people here would kill for that chance.”

I have the uncomfortable feeling that he isn’t joking.

“So!” he continues on, clapping his hands. “Most importantly: are you a virgin?”

“What?” I yelp in surprise.

“A virgin,” Jules says, brow raised in a way that tells me exactly what he thinks of my intellect. “You know, a woman who has yet to be deflowered.”

“I know!” I snap, cheeks aflame. “You just surprised me.”

He laughs, a sound that isn’t quite cruel but isn’t kind. “What do you think you’re here for?”

To be honest, I hadn’t allowed myself to think that far ahead, not about anything other than getting back to Luca, at least.

“So?” he prompts. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I say firmly.

“Hmmm,” Jules says, tapping his lips again. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

He takes in my curly hair, my thick black lashes, my long, thin fingers. “You’ve never had a boyfriend? Strange. For a slumling, you’re not terrible.”

Have I ever had a boyfriend? Is that what I would consider Everett?

The secret kisses we snatched throughout the summer felt urgent, but more for the way they erased the misery in my mind.

Everett’s father, another rebel, was my father’s best friend. They were executed side by side, and Everett and I grew up together in the shared shadow. We made out a few times in my shack, when Luca was away for his apprentice. But we never had sex. We couldn’t afford a child.

And after he asked me to marry him and I said I’d never really considered it . . .Well, I have no idea how he feels about me now.

I don’t want to talk about my relationship with Everett with Jules, so I simply shrug.

“I’m a virgin. Believe it or not.”

There’s that arched brow again, the one that tells me I’ve let Jules down.

“Manners—” he starts to reprimand me, but a knock interrupts him.

Jules rolls his eyes and walks over to the door and throw it open. “Oh! For goddess’s sake, who’s that –”

He cuts off his complaint sharply when he sees Jace standing on the threshold.