As a princess of Veld kingdom, Autumn had never drawn her own bath before. Her mother’s castle had not lacked for servants. But she had only seen about five constructs in this place, and she didn’t really want to have to go ask Knight to find her someone to help. So she fumbled at the taps until she found the one that would dispense hot water, and uncapped all of the fancy flagons in the bathroom in search of the ones that contained lotions and bath oils. She found some soft towels in a cupboard, and had a moment of annoyance when she saw that all of them were a deep black shade.
She half-expected the soap to also be black. It would not have been out of the realm of possibility, though she shuddered to think what such a thing might be made of. Fortunately, her investigation yielded perfectly reasonable bars of yellow tallow, as well as a few lavender-perfumed ones. It was, quite possibly, the most surprising thing that she had seen in this castle so far and Autumn wondered whether the lavender soap had been placed there for her, or simply forgotten behind by one of the previous princesses who had occupied this room.
She shuddered at the thought and placed the lavender bars back where she’d found them. Autumn didn’t want to think about the many ghosts that had preceded her. If she started down that path, she knew, she would never get a wink of sleep.
The bath took no time at all to fill. Despite the lack of subjects in his kingdom, at least the King hadn’t allowed his castle to fall into blatant disrepair. As she stepped into the basin, Autumn wondered idly if there was a spell to repair plumbing, or if one of the constructs was assigned to that sort of menial task. It seemed like the sort of thing that she ought to figure out, as she was to become the lady of the house.
Her body cradled in hot water, she finally let herself go limp. The emotions that she’d been keeping trapped behind her teeth finally burst forth, and Autumn shook in great heavy sobs. Once all of her tears were dry, she plonked her head backwards on the lip of the tub and tried to think of what to do next.
She should have listened to Summer and Winter and fucked the king first thing. Now she was drowning under the contradictory weight of too many rules and also nothing to do. Aside from not going outside, or not dying, or not letting the king touch her, what was her role here? To just hang on, for two whole months? Autumn had never been a woman happy with being idle. She wished that she’d brought her books with her, after all. Even her embroidery kit or her drop spindle would only keep her occupied for so long, until she ran out of material. And somehow she didn’t think that the Wizard King, who had no one in his employ but a handful of knights, would have a big stash of untreated wool lying around for her to turn into yarn.
She closed her eyes and let her hands slip down the lines of her body. She wondered what would be different, if she had made a claim instead of holding off until the wedding. Maybe she would still be idle now, but she supposed that she would feel like she had made some progress towards her goal, at least.
She shouldn’t have let him stand up and leer at her, during that first meeting in his throne room. Instead of stopping a few paces from him to pretend to curtsy, she could have hiked up her skirts and sat on him. Knees on each side of his hips, she would have ran her hands down his chest, or perhaps touched his face. What would his beard feel like under her palms?
Under the water, she ground the heel of her hand between her thighs. How would Eltanin have reacted to such a bold display? How would her knight? Would he have left the throne room, embarrassed, or would he have stayed and watched? Autumn shivered at the idea of his cool eyes on her back as she worked his king into a frenzy. What did he think of all this, really? Aside from a loyalty that he had been forced into, what did the handsome knight make of her? Did he want her to succeed and marry his king?
I will always remain yours, came the memory of his voice, reigniting the fire she’d felt earlier. Heat curled down her skin and pooled in her stomach. The image of the throne room shivered in her mind. The king disappeared, and suddenly she was the one on the throne, the rightful queen of this land, and her knight knelt in front of her. He was offering her his loyalty in the way it should have been done, with knowledge of what it meant and by his own volition. She imagined him getting to his feet and standing at attention before her, waiting on her command. Wanting to obey. It was an intoxicating thought.
But Autumn didn’t want to fantasize about the knight; even in her own mind, if felt like an abuse of power. He was hers to protect, not to use. A responsibility that she hadn’t asked for, but regardless would take seriously. Under her care, the construct would not be treated like a thing.
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