𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄, Cassian

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

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          WILLOW WAS SUBMERGED IN HOT WATER, ONLY HER FACE BOBBING ALONG THE SURFACE. Steam wafted up around her and fogged the windows of the bathing chamber and the room darkened as the sun slowly began to set behind the mountains. Willow touched her side and felt nothing but smooth skin, her wound having completely healed and not a scar remained.

The thought of having dinner with The High Lord was nerve wrecking, no matter how kind he had been. Willow was no one and she felt like this kindness she was being shown wasn't something she deserved. But she was grateful, she was so grateful for all they had done for her in the short amount of time she had been here.

The bath water sloshed around her as she sat up, back pressed against the warm marble tub. Willow popped some of the bubbles with her toes and leaned over the tub to glance at the rest of the bathing chamber with interest, resting her head on her arm.

Once her skin was pruned up and her veins more visible through the water, did Willow decide to get out of the water. She wrapped a towel around herself and glanced in the mirror as she began to dry her hair. Willow barely recognised herself. She could see her collarbones so clearly and her skin was ghostly pale, despite the redness on her cheeks.

Willow swallowed and looked away as she stepped from the bathing chamber and into the bedroom.

Feyre had laid out an outfit for her and she was glad that it wasn't a dress. This was not to be a formal dinner, then. Willow slipped on the sleek black pants and the cream sweater, warm against her skin. Her dark hair hung in wet loose ringlets down her back.

There was a soft knock on her door and her heart palpated beneath her ribcage. The sudden fear of getting taken away in the dead of night strong but Willow managed to shake it off.

"I was coming to see if you were ready to go?" Feyre said, smiling at the female once she had opened the door.

"Yes," said Willow, before she reached up towards her still wet hair. "but I don't know if I look appropriate for dinner. I've never really been to such a thing before."

"It's just a family dinner." nodded Feyre and motioned to her own attire, which was similar to watch she was wearing. "Not an important meeting, but I could help you do your hair if you'd like?"

"Yes, please. I don't really know what to do with it."

Willow sat down in front of the vanity and Feyre stood behind her, brush in her hand as she gathered her long her behind her back. If she closed her eyes it was almost as if her mother was behind her, brushing her hair like she did when she was a young child. Willow avoided looking in the mirror and kept quiet as Feyre went to work.

"How do you like it?" asked The High Lady, her hair now slowly drying.

"I don't do much to it." shrugged Willow as she met her gaze for a moment before looking toward her hands in her lap. "I just let it hung loose. Do whatever you like."

Feyre nodded her head with a smile and divided her hair halfway and began to braid it so she had a half do. The female tied it with a small ribbon and then weaved her fingers through the loose ringlets to let them fall nicely down her back.

"Thank you." muttered Willow.

"My pleasure." Feyre squeezed her shoulders lovingly before she stepped away to look out the window, night having fallen over the city. "Come, we should go. They're waiting for us."