Fifth Lord

Chapter 7

The blood was not hers, the fountain of red dripping down the maid's chin was a constant reminder when it fell into the bath.

She learned not to ask questions of the maid, only commands.

The wet gurgle from the meek thing's throat, the gasping maw soaked in its own blood, the row of shredded stitches sealing the stump of where her tongue had once been.

It always forgot that it was missing.

The blood soaked apron at waist was twisted under their weak shaking grasp as they curtseyed once again for some slight before leaving the room, the sound of the outer door opening and closing reaching her ears.

Shivers wracked her slight frame, the water on her skin wicking away any heat gained from the dying fire. Corvus pulled the fluffy white towel closer to her body as the maid came back into the large bathroom, walking past with downcast eyes.

The gurgling sound of water draining behind her drowned out the choked wheezes of the maid, the tang of blood in the air mingling with the scent of the rose water that circled the drain.

The maid guided her from the bathroom back into the bedroom, a pile of folded fabric was placed on the bed to the side of the room. They pulled a large fabric changing screen open, hanging the clothes over the top. The little thing about ran from the room, their ragged choked breaths going quiet as the heavy door shut behind them.

Corvus ran her hand across the fabric, her eyes raking the intricate threading at the cuffs and sheerness of the sleeves . Her fingers running over raised buttons and folded hem. The blouse was open at the back, tying at the bottom with a ribbon velvety collar at the top

Black fabric hugged at her shoulders, slightly too big and the silky fabric sliding across her skin as she moved. She tied the fabric at the small of her back, her fingers brushing against dampened feathers.

She pulled on the rest of the clothing before moving to the vanity, avoiding looking into the large ornate mirror.

With utmost care she ran her hands through the inky mass of feathers at her back, carefully working crooked pieces back into place. Corvus kept her gaze focused on her task, getting lost in the repetitive nature of it.

Her fingers flit over the now clean feathers, free of the long dried blood that once coagulated them into a scabby mess of blood and dirt.

...

Corvus did not know how long she sat there avoiding her reflection before she felt the humming presence of one of the daughters. The buzzing of their form resonating with the thing thrumming in her chest.

She turned to see a sickle burdened hand gestured to the doorway, "Mother will see you now."