Becca opened the door to find a young girl standing before her barely older than sixteen, with hair cropped short like a boy's, dark brown and soft against her cheeks. Freckles dotted her face like scattered stars, and her eyes were the warm color of hazelnuts. Her white apron was spotless, and her hands were folded neatly in front of her.
"Good evening, Milady," the girl said, bowing so deeply her short hair brushed forward. "I'm your lady's maid for the night."
Becca blinked, still a little dazed from the long ride. "And your name?"
"Emily Winston, Milady. Shall I draw your bath?"
"Please do," Becca replied with a small, weary smile. The journey from Brimstone to Duskborne had taken two full days and a night, the carriage stopping only once. Even then, the coachman had stood outside the door while she used the powder room, her father's orders, he'd said, to ensure she didn't run away. The thought still stung.
Emily stepped further into the room, her soft slippers barely making a sound. She went toward the corner near the dressing table, where a small candelabra flickered weakly. Lifting it, she revealed a pale curtain drawn across one side of the wall. With a tug, she pulled it aside, unveiling a separate bath chamber.
Becca frowned slightly. "Why is the bathplace covered?"
Emily smiled, a dimple showing on one cheek. "Most ladies don't like seeing their tubs from the bed, Milady. They say it ruins the room's beauty, too plain, too practical."
"Understandable," Becca murmured, though her tone held a trace of amusement. "But it makes no difference, I dare say."
The bathroom was larger than she expected, bright marble floors and a tub more like a small pool than a bath. Emily crossed the room and reached for a heavy bronze lever by the wall. It groaned softly as she pulled it down, releasing a rush of steaming water that spilled into the tub, sending gentle ripples across its surface.
A faint fragrance filled the air lavender and salt, familiar yet calming. Becca stood there for a moment, watching the mist rise. For the first time in two days, she felt her body begin to loosen, her tensed shoulders relaxed.
"Here, let me help," Emily offered gently, moving behind her to unfasten the small buttons of her dress. The gown loosened and slipped down with a whisper, pooling softly at Becca's feet.
Emmily's hands reached for the laces of her chemise, but Becca caught them instinctively.
"Thank you, I'll manage," she said quietly, a faint flush coloring her cheeks.
She had never stood bare before anyone,not even Mina. The idea of another seeing her so exposed unsettled her. At home, she always bathed alone, slipping into her chemise before Mina came to assist with her gown. She knew it was common for ladies to be tended to, but the thought had never sat comfortably with her.
Emily only nodded in understanding and bent down to gather the fallen dress without a word.
Becca waited until Emily's footsteps faded behind the curtain before exhaling softly. The air was warm, scented faintly with lavender and rosewater that drifted from the steaming bath. She stepped closer, the light from the candelabra rippling over the surface of the water like liquid gold.
With careful movements, she loosened the ribbons of her chemise and let it slide from her shoulders, folding it neatly on a nearby chair. For a moment she hesitated her reflection glimmered faintly on the water's surface, fragile and uncertain. It was strange to see herself here, in a stranger's home, even if she was to wed this stranger.
She dipped her foot into the bath and gasped. The warmth embraced her skin, melting the exhaustion that clung to her bones. Slowly, she sank in, the water lapping at her collarbones. Her eyes fluttered closed.
But as she leaned back, a faint chill brushed her nape soft, almost imagined. Her eyes snapped open. The room was silent, the curtain still, yet for a fleeting second, she thought she sensed someone watching her. But she was too relaxed to think further.
Becca drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin upon them. Duskborne. Even the name sounded heavy, like a whisper carried through mist. She has dared wonder, what surprises life held for her here, was it beautiful? was it ugly? Would it be another Brimstone?
A small shiver traced her spine, though the water remained warm. Whatever this place held in plan for her, no matter how dark or diabolical it may be, she wished it was nothing like Brimstone.
When Becca stepped out of the bath, her skin tingled from the warmth and the faint scent of rosewater that clung to her. She wrapped herself in a thick robe she found hanging behind the door, white, soft as cloud, trimmed with delicate embroidery along the sleeves. The fabric felt too fine for her to wear, but she pulled it closer nonetheless, savoring its comfort after days of dust and cramped travel.
Pushing past the curtain, she entered the chamber again. The candles had burned lower, their light deepening into amber. Her trunks had been brought in two of them, one slightly smaller than the other. The larger was already open, revealing a neat pile of her dresses, while the smaller one sat by the foot of the bed, its lid half-lifted, showing the spines of her beloved books, neatly arranged even after the journey.
Emily stood by the wardrobe, carefully hanging Becca's gowns one after another. The young maid worked quietly, humming something under her breath, a tune unfamiliar yet soft enough not to disturb the silence. Her movements were quick but graceful, as if she had done this all her life.
"You arranged for my trunks?" Becca asked softly, surprised by the girl's efficiency.
Emily turned, her freckles glowing in the candlelight. "Yes, Milady. The coachman brought them in a while ago. I thought it best to put things in order before you rested."
"That was thoughtful of you," Becca said, crossing the room to check on her books. She ran a finger along the spine of one The Tales of Old Brimstone. "At least they made the journey safely," she murmured, more to herself than to Emily.
The girl glanced curiously toward the small trunk. "You read a lot, Milady?"
"More than my father approves of," Becca replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "He says books fill my head with impossible thoughts."
Emily's eyes softened. "Then I suppose I'd like to have my head filled too."
Becca chuckled lightly, her shoulders relaxing. It was easy to like the girl. "You read, then?"
"Only a little. My father taught me letters. He's a tailor in Duskborne village. My mother works with him when she can."
Becca blinked. "You're from here?"
"Yes, Milady. Born and raised. We don't often see visitors from the outer lands, most especially not from Brimstone."
Becca tilted her head, studying her. "I had the impression Duskborne was… well, different. That no one truly lived here except—" she stopped herself before finishing.
"Except the Nightfolk?" Emily finished for her, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Becca hesitated, caught off guard. "That's what they say."
Emily gave a small smile, turning back to the wardrobe. "People say many things about this place. Some of it's true. Most of it isn't."
Becca leaned against the bedpost, intrigued. "And what's the truth, then?"
"The truth," Emily said, folding a shawl neatly, "is that Duskborne isn't nearly as dark as outsiders imagine. It's quiet, yes. Old, yes. But it's home. The Lord keeps things in balance. The creatures of night and the people of day we all have our place."
Becca watched her closely, trying to read the subtle undertone in her words. "You speak highly of your Lord."
Emily's expression softened, respectful but unreadable. "It's hard not to, Milady. He keeps Duskborne safe." Emily came back to her with a dress.
"What for?" Becca asked, the dress was a yellow Muslim evening gown.
"Dinner milady." Emily responded and in reply Becca's stomach made a small noise. Becca laughed ashamedly.
"It was a long journey, I had barely eaten."
Emily smiled in response helping her into the dress, after that she dried the Becca's hair, and used a ribbon to tie it into a loose bun.
"Lord Damion had left earlier to tend to matters, Milady, you would have to dine alone." Emily said as she led her to the dinning room.
"How long would he be gone for?" Becca asked, not because she cared, certainly not, this was after all his domain, she needed the assurance that she would be safe from all sort of Creatures here, and only he could give that .
"By tomorrow evening, if the matters are not delayed." Emily said.
Becca followed the young girl into the dimly lit corridor, the candles were lit, but they burned low.
Emily stopped at a giant oak door, she pushed open the door lightly. The butler stood near the table like a piece of log.
"Good evening Milady, dinner is ready." Aldric said with a bow, pulling a chair out for her.