Beautiful Torture *Book Two of the Beautiful series*

18) Jena

When they reached their bedrooms–two meager spaces, cold stone walls, with simple beds and chests to store their things–Lucy was left to her own devices. Chryses had wanted to talk plans of the training in the coming days, but Alexander could see that Lucy was still overwhelmed. He and Hunter volunteered to tour the training yard with the man while Lucy settled in.

She was inspecting the room, trying to get a sense for the place that would be home for the next few weeks. She ran her hands along the rough quilt, peering into the small mirror hung over the wash basin, when a soft knock came at the door. She jumped in alarm before blushing wildly in embarrassment from startling so easily when the young woman poked her head into the room. She had wide brown eyes that she kept trained on the floor, skin the color of warm hazelnut, and tawny shaded hair braided neatly down her back. But Lucy hardly noticed those things. It was difficult to keep her eyes off the tight leather collar locked around her neck.

A slave.

"Please, come in," Lucy said in the softest voice she could muster.

The slave woman moved meekly into the small room, letting the door close behind her. She kept her gaze down on her dirty feet and her hands clasped together in front of her. The dress she wore was sheer fabric, ratty and so thin that Lucy could make out every crevice of her body. The full breasts. Her curved hips. Little was left to the imagination. Old scars wrapped their way around the woman's arms, a shade lighter than her natural skin tone. Lucy frowned, feeling her heart give a sympathetic squeeze. What a horrible life the girl must live.

While it was true that life as a servant in Espen was not glamorous or kind, there was still a measure of free will. Servants were paid, either in money or room, board, meals, and a form of protection. They entered into contracts with employers who could sell them at will, but once the contract was up they were free to seek other accommodations. Slavery offered none of that. In this country, the woman in front of her was seen as nothing more than property to be used and abused in any way her masters wished.

Lucy could see it. The brokenness. She wanted to reach a hand to rest on the girl's shoulder, to comfort her, but when she lifted her fingers the slave flinched in fear, so she immediately dropped it back down to her side.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Lucy asked in a strained voice, smoothing the front of her dusty blouse.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my Lady, but my master asked that I bring you to the baths. He said that your current attire..." the slave hesitated, eyeing Lucy's trousers. Her fingers twisted nervously as though she was waiting for Lucy to hit her. "...that it is not appropriate."

Lucy scoffed. Her mint green gaze running up and down the slave again. "Your master and I must have very different definitions of what is appropriate. "

A hint of a smile tugged at the slaves lips, but she seemed to remember herself quickly and forced the expression back into a passive mask of nothing. "I am sorry, My Lady. My master means no offense, but he does insist that I help you bathe and change before dinner."

The pleading edge to her words made it clear to Lucy that if she did not agree, the poor slave girl would likely suffer for it. Sighing, she looked her over again, taking in each bruise and scrape. Lingering over the way she spoke Espen's native tongue so well considering most here spoke heavy Narian.

"What is your name?" She asked quietly.

The slave girl shifted, hesitating. "Jenaya, my lady."

"And how old are you, Jenaya?" Lucy pressed, feeling more sickened by the moment.

"Eighteen by the summer's turn, my Lady."

Lucy blanched. They were the same age. Had she been born on the wrong side of the border, this might be her fate. Subconsciously, her hand brushed over her stomach. Her son was in there, growing bigger each day. He would change the world when he arrived. And she would do everything in her power to keep him from being born in a place like this...she did not know much about childbirth, the babies whelped by the whores at Granston House never lasted long, but she knew enough to be comforted by the thought that it would be several months before he arrived. Unless dragon hybrids grew faster, of course.

Shaking her head, she let her hand fall away and drew in a shaking breath. "Well, show me to these baths. Might as well wash the three layers of dust and grime off."

Jenaya nodded, opening the door, "very good, My Lady."

"Please, enough with the 'my lady'. You may call me Lucy."

Jenaya faltered, a flashing look of her round brown eyes, wide with disbelief, landed on Lucy. She was fast to look back at the ground and compose herself, but something in her stoic expression had shifted a fraction. She spoke soft and hesitantly. "Then I will ask that you call me Jena, if we are to speak so freely."

A smile curved at Lucy's mouth, reflecting in her voice. "Well, Jena, lead the way."

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The baths were a marvel. A steaming waterfall churned water into a series of deeply cut rectangular pools. Fragrant water lilies floated on the surfaces, their blossoming petals white at the root that bled into the softest shade of pink in the tips. The color reminded Lucy of a sunset. She had not expected anything nearly so grand, but it seemed the life of a monk was not all work and no luxury.

Lucy moved forward, breathing in the misty air that curled with hot steam. She removed her boots and stockings, dipping a toe into the blurred surface. A pleasurable shiver moved through her at the contact of the temperature. It was almost intolerably warm. Something she had only had the joy of experiencing once, in the hot springs of Kirth. Those waters had healed her, both body and soul back then, giving her a sensation of infinite optimism. While she did not think these ones would have the exact same effect, she was willing to give it a try.

"Shall I help you undress, my–" Jena caught herself, biting her tongue and giving Lucy the smallest of smiles. "Lucy?" She corrected just in time.

Lucy smiled back, enjoying that the girl was already growing more comfortable in her presence. "No, I can manage." She unabashedly peeled off the dirty trousers and dust riddled blouse before shedding her shift so that she was stark naked, steam curling her long auburn-brown locks. "If there is anyway you could have these cleaned though, I would truly appreciate it." Gathering the clothes, she offered them out to the girl. Whether the Monk Senior disapproved of her inappropriate attire or not, she would not be parted with her beloved trousers. Not after experiencing the freedom of movement they offered. Training in them would be so much easier than in a constricting dress and corset.

Jena nodded, immediately holding out her arms so Lucy could drop the clothes within them. "Of course. I will do it myself. It should not take long and after I hang them to dry, I will return to help you dress. The others have all been warned that you are in here and not to be disturbed."

Lucy nodded. She might have said she could dress herself as well, but found that she was rather enjoying the girls company and would look forward to her return. Jena left without another word and Lucy slowly stepped into the deep pool. Her entrance stirred the waters, making them lap at the edges and sending a few of the water lilies off in delicately swirling circles. She watched two bump into each other as she sat on the stone carved bench that bordered the pool's edge. Sinking down, the warm liquid rose over her breasts, up to her neck which she rested back, closing her eyes.

It was the first time she had been alone in days. Truly alone. No beloved king waiting just outside the door. No nosey Familiar pawing through her thoughts like they were assorted chocolates to be picked through and examined before enjoying.

Vials of bath oils were lined along the pool's border. Lucy reached for one, a scent of lemon and bay leaf, and used it to wash her hair and body. She let out a long breath. Sucked in a new one before shifting off the stone bench so she could fully submerge her head. She held her breath, the warm water and darkness pressing in all around her, until her lungs screamed and she broke the surface with a gasp.

"Thought you might have drowned under there," His adenoidal voice cut through the steam thickened mist behind her.

Lucy jolted so sharply that her head knocked against the solid stone corner, sending a spark of pain through her skull. Her vision came in and out of focus, but she managed to blink into the distant doorway where the dark haired monk stood with an evil light dancing in his eyes.