I stood there for a long time, staring at my reflection. My silver hair was a bird's nest of knots and dried mud. My lips were bitten raw. I looked like a ghost that had been dragged through a coal mine. But when I looked at the scars on my back..those jagged lines that usually made me feel like a broken toy…they looked different in this light. The orange glow from the city outside made them shimmer. Like lightning frozen in my skin.
"I am not a princess," I whispered again. The words felt heavy in the quiet room. "I am a witch."
The shadow under the skin of my wrist flickered again, like a tiny black flame. It didn't hurt. It felt... hungry.
I turned away from the mirror and walked toward the bath. The water was steaming, sending up thick clouds that smelled like roses and something sharp…like cinnamon or pepper. I kicked off my boots. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, leaving red dust on the expensive purple rug. I didn't care. I stripped off the ruined silk dress, letting it fall in a heap of trash on the floor.
I stepped into the tub.
"Oh, gods," I hissed. The water was hot. It was so hot it almost stung, but as I sat down, my muscles finally stopped screaming. I leaned my head back against the stone rim and closed my eyes. The silence was almost scary. No more wind. No more horses. Just the sound of the water lapping against my chest.
I thought about the demons at the gate. They hadn't thrown rocks. They hadn't laughed. They had called me Unbroken. It was a weird title. I had spent my whole life being told I was the definition of broken.
The door clicked.
I bolted upright, splashing water onto the floor. I tried to cover myself with my arms, my heart hammering against my ribs. I thought it was Athan. I wasn't ready to see him yet. I was naked and covered in soap bubbles.
But it wasn't him. A tall woman with grey skin and silver horns walked in. She was carrying a stack of towels and a tray with a glass of something dark red. She didn't look at me like I was a person; she looked at me like I was a project that needed finishing.
"You're splashing," she said. Her voice was flat and raspy.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sink deeper into the bubbles.
"Argenta," she said. She set the towels down. "I'm your maid. Or your keeper. Whatever makes you feel better. The King said you're a mess, and looking at you now, he wasn't lying."
I blinked. "He said I was a mess?"
"He said you were covered in the Sky Kingdom's filth and needed to be scrubbed," Argenta said. She walked over and picked up my dirty dress with two fingers, looking at it with disgust. "This is going in the fire. We don't wear bird-feathers here."
"That was expensive silk," I muttered.
"It's ugly," she snapped. She walked to the edge of the tub and held out a sponge. "Do you want help, or are you going to sit there and soak until you turn into a prune? The messenger from the sky is already making a scene in the Great Hall. The King is losing his patience."
"The messenger? Is it Captain Jace?" I asked. My stomach twisted. Jace was one of my father's favorites. He was mean and liked to kick dogs.
"I don't care what his name is," Argenta said. She started scrubbing my arm with the sponge. She wasn't gentle. "He's loud and he smells like perfume. The King is dealing with him, but he expects you to be ready by the time the moon hits the peak."
"Ready for what?"
Argenta paused, her white eyes meeting mine. "To be a Queen, I assume. Or at least to look like one. You can't show up to a negotiation looking like a drowned rat."
I let her scrub. She worked fast, moving the sponge over my shoulders and back. I waited for her to say something about the scars. I waited for her to go quiet and pity me.
"Nice marks," she said instead.
I froze. "What?"
"The scars," she said, scrubbing right over them. "They look like power. In the Underworld, we don't hide our wounds. We show them off. It shows you survived something that tried to kill you."
I didn't know how to respond to that. No one had ever called my scars 'nice.' They were my shame. But Argenta treated them like they were just part of the scenery.
"Why is everyone so... different here?" I asked. "I was told this place was a nightmare."
Argenta snorted. "The people in the sky love their stories. They need us to be monsters so they can feel like they're the good guys. We just live differently. We don't hide our teeth. We don't pretend we aren't hungry."
She dumped a bucket of warm water over my head to rinse the soap. I choked for a second, wiping my eyes.
"The Sky King wants you back, you know," Argenta said, her voice lower now.
"He sold me," I said. "Why would he want me back?"
"He doesn't want you," she said. She stood up and grabbed a large, fluffy towel. "He wants the power he thinks he threw away. He saw what you did at the ridge. The messenger is here to 'negotiate' your return because your father realized he accidentally gave Athan a nuke instead of a trophy."
I shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. A nuke. A weapon. That's all I was to them.
"Athan won't give me back," I said. I wasn't sure if I was happy about that or scared.
"No," Argenta said, a small, sharp smile appearing on her face. "He won't. He's already killed three people today for touching your horse. He isn't in a sharing mood."
She held the towel out. "Out. Now. We have to dress you. The moon is almost up, and you have a kingdom to face."
I stood up, the water sluicing off my skin. I felt different. The dirt was gone, but so was the girl who had arrived in the Underworld in tears. I took the towel and wrapped it around myself, feeling the weight of the silver lightning on my back.
I wasn't going back to the sky. I wasn't going to be a prisoner.
I stepped out of the bath and onto the soft purple rug. My feet were clean. My skin was tingling. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't waiting for someone to tell me what to do.
"Let's go," I said to Argenta. "Let's see what a Queen looks like."