As the Empire Began to Fall

You and me, we're not the same

Star knew she was dirty, but almost scrubbing her skin off seemed entirely unnecessary.

Arlen waited outside while maids attempted to strip her down. She fought against them, at one point biting one of them on the wrist with enough force to make her bleed. The maid swore and pulled back, looking at her as if her tantrum was the most unreasonable thing in the world, and being stripped by strangers was a completely normal way to spend your afternoon. 

"I can bathe myself," Star said, trying to keep her voice firm.

The woman wiped at the blood welling on her wrist. "You can undress yourself," she conceded. Then she stepped back with her coworkers, pulling a screen forward to give her privacy.

Star sighed. She'd take what she could get. She stripped off her ruined clothes, now mere dirty tatters of cloth and cotton, and stepped into the tub. It was huge, surrounding her in a bowl of shiny porcelain. The bubbles covered most of her body, so she didn't feel as uncomfortable when the maids came back, carrying pitchers of water and soap.

Understandably, her hair took the longest. It was matted with sweat and dirt and took a good thirty minutes to clean until it was soft and glossy once more. Then, the maid braided it, tight and uncomfortable—not like one of her brothers would do it. She felt like they had shifted her hairline back, pulling the skin around her eyes.

Then when they were done, they let her get dressed by herself, handing her clothes to do so.

The dress they had given her was long, dropping to her mid-calf. It was sleeved to the elbows and a solid beige color with a slight sparkle to it. Even though the material was obviously expensive, there was nothing flattering about it, in fact, she looked like she was built like a brick. She stared at herself in the tall mirror hanging up on the wall. She looked different than usual—outside the new clothes—and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

They handed her shoes. Sandals. She slipped them on. They were too small, by a size or so. She looked at the maid, and debated saying something, but decided against it.

"You have very long hair," the maid said, slightly awed. "I thought all the women north of us cut their hair short."

"What?" Star thought that was a foolish notion. Most of the girls she knew had long hair, like Glori. "No, I've never cut it. Well, trimmed. But never cut."

"Good. Women are supposed to have long hair."

Star fought the urge to balk. Kankedort, rang in her mind, definition: an awkward affair. 

Before she could further unpack the statement, the maid smiled and said, "Come along. You're ready."

The maid hiked up her skirts, which reached the floor and began to walk to the door. Star followed her, trying not to wince at the way the too-small shoes rubbed at the skin of her feet. It wouldn't be long before blisters began to form, aching and raw.

Arlen was waiting outside the room, idling and toying with the cuffs of his shirt. When he heard the door open, he grinned at Star.

"There we go. Do you feel better now that you're clean?"

"Yeah," Star said. As soon as the maid was out of sight, she loosened her braid, pulling out strands of hair to curl around her jaw. "The shoes are too small, though." She wiggled her toes.

Arlen looked down. "Oh, I told them to give you the largest size."

Star knew she had big feet, but they weren't abnormally large. She was a size eleven in Osha while most girls her age were a seven or eight. Jackson liked to joke that her big feet made her clumsy, but Brose said that they made her fast, though she wasn't too sure how that correlated.