Willodean led me through halls of gold, silver, and bronze, through so many twists and turns that I had utterly lost myself in where we were going. It wasn't long before we came to an exuberant bedroom on the second level. I'll admit I didn't fight hard when Willodean and two other servants bathed me, cut my hair, and then plucked me until I felt like a chicken being prepared for dinner. For all I knew, I might very well be their next meal.
It was only the Seelie Faerie's promise—to live out the rest of my days in Asteria instead of dying that kept me from being sick. While these faeries also looked human, save for their pointed ears, I'd never learned what the Seelie Faeries called their servants. But I didn't dare ask, not when they were touching me, having them so close was enough to make me focus solely on not trembling.
Still, I took one look at the silk blush pink dress Willodean had placed on the bed and sunk into a chair pleading for her to return my old clothes. Willodean had refused, insisting I dress like a proper lady, and when I begged again, trying my best to sound broken and sad and pitiful, she huffed and stormed out. I hadn't worn a dress in years, and I wasn't going to start now, not when I needed to be ready in case the Seelie Faeries attacked me. I would never be able to move freely in a gown.
Bundled in my dressing robes, I counted down the minutes, the chattering of birds in the garden beyond the large windows the only sounds. No screaming, no hint of any slaughter or torture.
To say the bedroom was larger than our cottage was an understatement. It's walls were pale green with gold patterns of leaves and flowers imprinted on it. I might have thought it tacky had the ivory furniture and plush rugs not complimented it so well. The gigantic bed was of a similar colour scheme, and the curtains that hung from the towering headboard drifted in the faint breeze of the open windows. My dressing gown was also made with the finest silk, edged with a little lace—simple but exquisite.
The few stories I'd heard about the faeries had been wrong—or ten hundred years of separation had muddled them. Yes, I was still prey, and predator, still born weak and utterly useless compared to them, but this place was ... peaceful. Serene. Unless that was an illusion too, a glamour using their magic, and the whole offer to spare me was a lie—a trick to set me at absolute ease before they destroyed me. The Seelie Faeries like to play with their pawns.
The door creaked loudly, and Willodean returned—a sodden bundle of clothing in her hands. She lifted a greyish shirt, peppered with holes of various sizes. "You want to wear this?" I could only gape at the number of holes on my shirt. "It instantly fell apart the moment the laundresses dipped it into water." She held up a few scraps of brown fabric. "This is what is left of your pants."
I clamped down the curse building in my chest. She might be a mere servant, but she could kill me easily too.
"Will you wear the dress now?" she demanded, gesturing to it on the bed. I looked at her, then back at the dress, then back at Willodean again. I knew I should get up, should agree, but maybe because I am too stubborn, I slumped back farther into my seat. Willodean squinted at me for a moment before leaving once again.
She returned with trousers and a tunic that fit me well, both of them rich in colour. A bit fancy for my taste, but I didn't complain when I wore the white shirt, nor when I buttoned the silver tunic and ran my hands along the scratchy gold thread embroidered on the lapels. It had to cost a fortune itself—and it tugged the back of my useless mind that admired strange and colourful things.
Willodean herded me into a low-backed chair before the fireplace, and I didn't fight back when she ran a comb through my knotty hair and began braiding it.
"You're hardly more than skin and bones, Eleena," she said, her fingers luxurious against my scalp.
"Starvation does that to poor little mortals," I replied, fighting to keep the sharpness from my tone.
She laughed. "If you're wise, you would keep your mouth shut and your ears open around here. It'll do you more good than a loud mouth. And keep your wits about you—your senses might try to betray you in the immortal lands."
I tried not to cringe at the warning. Willodean went on. "Some folk are bound to be upset about you being here. So if you keep your head down, then none of them will bother you. Though Kallistê," she grimaced, "she could do with someone snapping at her, she is quite controlling sometimes, that is of course if you have the courage for it."
To be honest, I didn't, and when I went to ask about what exactly faeries could do, she had already finished my hair and guided me out to the hall.