The Inspection

The door closed softly behind me, the click echoing too loudly in the tiled room. I stood there, dripping on the floor, hair plastered against my face and shoulders, the thin linen clinging damp and heavy to my skin. The scent of roses hung in the air, thick and sweet, curling into my nose until it almost made me dizzy. Steam clouded the mirrors, softening the edges of everything, as though the room itself were trying to hide me from what came next.

The bath waited in the center, deep and brimming with water so hot the surface trembled. I’d been cold for so long - my toes numb from the mud, my hands raw from the rain - that the warmth felt like it belonged to someone else. My body ached to sink into it, but my mind held me at a distance, rooted to the threshold.

Miss Clearway’s voice lingered in my head, gentle but unyielding: Wash yourself properly. You’ll be seen soon enough, and appearances matter here. Miss Waters had said nothing, only watched with eyes that softened in pity but carried no room for disobedience. They were not cruel, not like him, but neither would they save me.

I peeled the linen away, the fabric making a wet sound as it left my skin, and stepped closer to the bath. My legs shook from exhaustion, though whether it was from the long walk or the weight of what I dreaded, I couldn’t tell.

I touched the surface with the tips of my fingers. The heat stung, then seeped inward, until it felt as though it might melt everything brittle inside me. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

This was supposed to be comfort. A kindness, perhaps. But the roses didn’t smell like kindness to me—they smelled like preparation. Like the scent someone lays over something rotten, pretending it is clean.

I lowered myself into the water, inch by inch, until it closed over my shoulders and the steam wrapped me whole. My skin prickled, both burning and soothing at once. I sank deeper, my hair floating around me, my breath shallow in the floral haze.

I tried to imagine this was just a bath, that I was somewhere else—home, maybe, if I could even remember what that meant anymore. But the thought dissolved quickly, slipping through my hands like the ripples on the water’s surface.

He was waiting. Whatever task lay before me, whatever humiliation or cruelty, it was waiting. And no matter how clean I scrubbed, no matter how much rose water they poured into the bath, nothing could wash away what I had already become in his eyes: property.

The bathwater clung to me as I stepped out, dripping onto the stone tiles, the rose-scent lingering like a shroud. A coarse towel lay folded on the stool; I pulled it around myself, rough against my skin, covering what little I could. It wasn’t warmth. It was armor, thin as paper.

I opened the door back into my room. Miss Clearway and Miss Waters were there, just as they had promised, standing like twin sentinels. They exchanged a brief glance before wordlessly ushering me into the small room that had been marked as mine.

“Stand here,” Miss Clearway instructed. Her voice was not unkind, but it left no space for refusal.

I obeyed, standing at the foot of the bed. Waters moved closer, her eyes scanning me with the precision of someone used to assessing livestock. Clearway gestured for me to loosen the towel. My fingers trembled, but I obeyed. The rough fabric slipped, pooling at my feet.

The air was cold. Their eyes were colder.

Waters circled me once, her lips pressed thin. She worked her way up my body, starting with the faint bruises blooming on my ankles from the long walk. She felt my calves and thighs before grabbing my bottom with both hands, checking its firmness. She moved onto my arms, pausing at the rope burn on my wrists before moving up to the faint scar on my shoulder. She gently raised my arms and began examining my breasts next, moving her fingers in a soft circular motion across the soft flesh. She said nothing, only nodded to Clearway.

“No disfigurements,” Clearway murmured. “Nothing he will find unacceptable.”

Waters straightened, her expression softening for only a heartbeat as she met my eyes. “Keep it that way.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, miss.”

“I see there’s no hair. Was the silver emolient used?”

“Yes,” I said, the confidence I tried to portray failing as I remembered the day last month, when my body hair was harshly torn off me and a silver emollient, designed to damage the hair follicles so nothing grows back, was slathered on everything below my head, leaving my skin burnt and raw.

“We must inspect your genitals now. Lie on the bed, on your back with your knees bent.” I stared at Miss Clearway, unmoving, a look of horror on my face.

Clearway clasped her hands before her, her gaze sharp. “Listen closely, girl. Alpha Cain is not a man who forgives. He does not tolerate delay, or hesitation, or excuses. If he commands something of you, you will do it. Without question. Without pause. You should get in that habit. Now, on the bed, knees bent.”

Her tone was flat, practical, but I caught the flicker of warning beneath it — a warning carved from experience.

I moved instantly this time, remembering my place. I lay on the bed and bent my knees upwards. I let Miss Waters' hands slowly, but firmly, move my knees apart as I tried to steady my breathing. I stared at the ceiling, willing myself to zone out as I felt her move her fingers over my folds, eventually spreading this and moving onto my clit before advising Clearway everything was in order. Clearway handed Waters a small bottle, and I watched as Waters applied lubricant to her finger. Panic rose in me, but I remained still as she gently inserted a finger into me. While she didn’t go far, the intrusion was a new feeling to me, and one that left me feeling sick. “The hymen is intact,” she said, removing her finger and wiping it on a handkerchief. “Here, put this on,” Clearway said, handing me a thin, white, cotton shift. I quickly pulled it over me, thankful for what little privacy it granted.

Waters stepped closer, lowering her voice. “What Miss Clearway said about doing what Alpha Cain commands. His last Athena forgot that. She thought she could refuse him. Perhaps she thought he would strike her once and be done. He was not.” Waters’ eyes hardened, the softness gone. “She lasted only a few days. Her body could not withstand his temper.”

The room seemed to shrink around me, pressing the air from my lungs. My chest tightened until I thought I might choke.

Clearway placed a hand briefly on my shoulder, grounding, though not comforting. “Do not be foolish, Thea. Survival here is simple, if cruel. Follow his word. Learn quickly. Give him no reason to find fault.”