Chapter 13: The Queen’s Bath

The moment they were in the bathroom, Hazel’s eyes widened all over again. The bathtub was the size of a small pond, carved from some dark polished stone. Steam rose from the water, carrying the sweet scent of jasmine and a few rose petals floated on the surface, drifting lazily across the water like tiny boats.

Goddess above. Is this how queens live?

Hazel stood rigid at the edge of the tub, biting her lower lip.

The head servant stepped forward, her brown eyes patient. Her name was Gertrude, and she was a short and plump woman with greying hair. "Your Majesty? The water will grow cold."

Hazel swallowed hard, her eyes blinking rapidly. She could feel the scars on her back, the raised ridges of skin that had been torn and healed and torn again. Years of her father’s whip. Years of her stepmother’s "lessons." Years of mockery from the her half-sister.

"Your Majesty?" Gertrude repeated, softer this time.

Hazel choked, shaking now. "I... I can’t. I can clean up myself."

The three servants exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Then Gertrude stepped closer.

"Your Majesty, may I speak freely?"

Hazel nodded, not trusting her voice.

"We have seen many things in this palace and our entire existence," she said gently. "We have bathed fellow omegas like us with marks from cruel Alphas." She paused, her eyes soft. "Whatever is on your body, we will not flinch. We will not stare, and I swear to you, we will not whisper."

Hazel’s lower lip trembled. "You don’t understand. There’s so many—"

The servant on the left spoke up. Miranda, was her name and she had adorable freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the King will have our heads if you do not let us bathe you."

Hazel blinked, stunned by her bluntness. "What?"

"Forgive her bluntness, but she is right, your majesty," Gertrude continued, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You are his wife, and our Queen, you deserve only the best. And I’m sure you already know King Conan can be...." She paused, smiling awkwardly.

Hazel tore her gaze from Gertrude’s, processing their words.

"Please, Your Majesty," the third servant, perhaps around Hazel’s age, and going by the name of Tawny, whispered. "Let us serve you."

Hazel took a shaky breath, and then nodded. She undressed and stepped into the warm water, her arms instinctively moving to cover her chest.

Thankfully, the servants did exactly what they promised. Their eyes didn’t linger on the scars. Their expressions didn’t shift. There was no shock, no disgust, no pity.

Hazel found that she liked that very much.

She sighed as the tension in her muscles began to melt away. The servants worked quietly, washing her hair with a substance that smelled like honey, scrubbing her skin with soft sponges until she felt like a new person.

But even as they worked, Hazel’s mind kept drifting back to Conan.

Where had he gone? Why had he left without waking her? Was he avoiding her after what happened last night? The way he had pulled away when she felt that thing pressing against her... was he embarrassed? Annoyed? Disgusted?

Stop it, Hazel. You’re spiraling again.

She forced herself to focus on the warm water, the soft hands washing her, the flowers floating around her.

The servants helped her out of the bath, wrapping her in the softest towel she had ever felt. They dried her hair with gentle fingers, brushed it until it shone, and then guided her back to her new bedroom.

A dress lay waiting on the bed.

It was a breathtaking, deep burgundy satin gown, with a corset and off-the-shoulder sleeves. Lying beside it were matching, opera-length satin gloves.

Woah, she thought, running her fingers over the fabric.

"Did the king set this aside for me?"

"I’m not sure, your majesty. But all evidence points to the answer being a resounding yes," Gertrude smiled.

"Ah, I see," Hazel said quietly.

After drying her up, and styling her hair, the servants helped her into the dress, cinching the corset just tight enough to accentuate her waist without being uncomfortable. Afterwards, they slid the satin gloves up her arm, completing the look.

She stood before the full-length mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back.

Her hair fell in waves across her shoulders, and her grey eyes, usually dull with exhaustion, sparkled with something she hadn’t seen in years.

Hope.

"You look gorgeous, your majesty." Tawny said sweetly, and a light blush graced Hazel’s cheeks.

"Thank you, Tawny."

Her mind wandered to Emma.

Perhaps I can get a special permission from Conan to—

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Before anyone could respond, the door swung open, and a full head of platinum silver hair poked through.

"There you are!"

Becky burst into the room without waiting for the invitation, her chestnut eyes wide with delight. She was already dressed for the day in a flowing emerald gown that complemented her coloring perfectly.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you!" She stopped short, taking in the full sight of Hazel in her burgundy gown. Her mouth fell open.

"Damn, you’re so pretty!" Becky announced, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Look at you! You look like a queen already!"

Hazel felt her face heat. "Thank you, Becky," she said softly, scanning Becky’s outfit. "You look gorgeous too."

Becky smiled at her before clapping her hands together, turning to the servants. "Alright, you three, out. I need some alone time with the new queen."

Gertrude, Tawny and Miranda exchanged amused glances, then bowed gracefully and filed out of the room. Tawny winked at Hazel on her way past, and Gertrude gave her a cheerful thumbs up.

The moment the door clicked shut, Becky spun around, her grin widening so much Hazel worried she would tear her lips.

"Okay," she said, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Spill."

Hazel scrunched her brows. "Spill what? You want me to spill... liquid?"

Becky’s grin faltered for just a second before returning, though it seemed more forced this time. "Oh right, forgot, you’re from the ancient Tideclaw and don’t know some of our slangs. What I mean is...tell me about what happened," she explained, stepping closer and lowering her voice till it sounded like a conspiration. "You and Conan last night... did you... you know?"

Hazel felt her entire face erupt in flames.

"I—we—" She covered her face with her gloved hands, mortified. "We were supposed to! But he said we should stop because I was trembling."

Becky froze mid-bounce, her eyes going wide.

"Wait," she said slowly, the playfulness draining from her voice. "He stopped? You two didn’t consummate the union?"

"Is that a problem?" Hazel asked, peeking through her fingers nervously. "Did I do something wrong? I know I’m inexperienced, and he probably expected someone more confident, and—"

"No, no, no!" Becky rushed forward, grabbing Hazel’s hands and pulling them away from her face. "Hazel, that’s not a problem at all! That’s—" She paused, searching for the right words. "It’s fine. Nothing to worry about."

Hazel frowned. "You’re lying, aren’t you?"

Becky forced a smile onto her lips. "Why would I lie to you? I’m on your side, Hazel, don’t ever forget that."

Hazel looked deep into Becky’s eyes, parting her mouth to say something else.

"Okay!" Becky cut her off. "We need to leave. The celebration party is about to start, and I have to introduce you to everyone properly. Including some people who are going to be insufferable."

Hazel’s stomach flipped, floored by the sudden change in conversation and tone. "Insufferable people?"

Becky waved a dismissive hand. "Don’t worry about it. I’ll protect you. And if anyone tries anything, I’ll just tell Conan. He’s been in a mood all morning, and I think he’s looking for an excuse to snap someone’s neck."

"All morning?" Hazel asked, her heart lurching. "What do you mean? You’ve seen him today?"

Becky’s expression flickered. "Oh, no I haven’t! Now come on! Let’s go see what trouble we can cause."

Hmm.

Why did Hazel feel like Becky was hiding something from her?