A SYMPHONY OF SHADOWS | grishaverse

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five

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Moments after Nerezza awoke, the door to her room was thrown open and many attendants streamed in. They were dressed in white and gold, and there was a Grisha amongst them, in a white and gold kefta. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with thick, shiny red hair, deep blue eyes and porcelain skin.

"Saints!" the Grisha gasped, "Have you ever bathed?"

"Yes, actually," Nerezza hissed, "If you're referring to the fact that I'm covered in blood, guts and gore I don't usually look like this."

"And what happened to your face? This is going to take more work than I expected," she sighed. She sharply snapped her fingers, "Fetch my kit."

The other attendants dragged her into the bathroom, promptly stripping her and shoving her into a bath. To her surprise, the water was hot – she never had hot water at home unless she boiled it.

They began scrubbing at her, so hard hat she felt that several layers of skin were being removed.

"Smells like old horse," one of them said in old Ravkan.

"And the bitch's hair looks like a rat's nest." The other replied, laughing.

Nerezza bristled with anger, snatching the sponge from her, "Stop! I am perfectly capable of washing myself, and yes, I smell like horse; I've been on one for over 200 miles, after nearly being killed – twice. And my hair isn't a rat's nest it's naturally curly – it gets tangled. And I understand old Ravkan," she snarled, scrubbing the blood away herself, "And another thing I'm capable of is ripping your throat out with my teeth!"

"In an hour you'll be presented to King Pyotr, and General Kirigan has asked that I make you look presentable – or, using your euphemism, get rid of the blood, guts and gore," the Grisha declared.

Nerezza let out a string of swear words.

"So, let's get on with it," she stated standing up, giving a signal for her to get out. The attendants grabbed a black robe.

"This is all a bit much, I really don't need any of this," Nerezza stopped herself as she put on the robe, "Fuck, is this velvet?"

"I'd start by getting rid of those foul scars and making her skin and hair less Suli, Miss Safin," one of the attendants said.

Nerezza blanched, unsure what to say of the comment, part of her was shocked, the other violated, and the rest angered.

The Grisha clapped her hands twice, "Everybody out!"

The attendants left, leaving but her and the Grisha, "Thank you," Nerezza said, the words strange on her tongue.

"Happy to get rid of the miserable shrews," the Grisha replied, "I don't pick my staff, the Queen assigns them. Mostly so she can spy on me."

"Don't change my skin, or my scars," Nerezza declared, "I know they're halfway across my face but I'm already attached."

"I don't care that you're Suli or scarred," the Grisha stated, tucking a curl behind her ear, "I care that you look terrible."

Both girls chuckled.

"Here, sit."

She sat at the dresser, holding up a hand mirror to inspect herself. This was the first time Nerezza had seen her face since the incident with the volcra. There were two scars that cut into and marred her flesh, one starting from a bit above her left eyebrow, over (thank God not through) her eye, through her cheek and almost to her jawline. The other was somewhat underneath, from the middle of her nose, through her cheek and almost met with the end of the first.