The Dark Trinity

Chapter 5

  
Amelia sat curled in the corner of her servant chamber, her thin frame shivering despite the warm sunlight peeking through the tiny window.

Her tangled hair cascaded around her face, a curtain shielding her from the whispers that still echoed in her ears. She had been left here, forgotten for the moment, but not entirely. 

The heavy creak of the door snapped her out of her haze. An older woman, stout and severe, stood in the doorway. Her face was lined with years of hard labor, her expression sharp with disdain.

She carried a bundle of folded linens, which she thrust at Amelia without preamble. 

“You stink,” the woman said flatly, her voice rasping like dry parchment. “Bathhouse is down the corridor. You’ve got ten minutes to make yourself presentable, or I’ll send you back to wherever they found you.”  

Amelia looked up but didn’t speak. The woman sneered, her disdain palpable. “Don’t just sit there like a mute. Move!”

Amelia flinched at the sharpness in her voice and scrambled to her feet, clutching the linens as if they might shield her. The woman muttered something under her breath and left, slamming the door behind her.  

The bathhouse was a stark contrast to the dungeon’s suffocating filth. The air was warm, moist with steam, and smelled faintly of lavender and lye. Wooden tubs lined the walls, each filled with clean water.

A small mirror hung crookedly on one wall, its surface fogged.  The floor was made of uneven cobblestones, damp from years of use, and the walls were streaked with mildew. 

Amelia approached one of the tubs tentatively, her footsteps silent on the damp stone floor. She undid the ties of her tattered dress, letting it fall to the ground in a heap. The dirt caked on her skin was so thick it almost felt like armor. 

The water was scalding as she stepped in, making her gasp. It seeped into her pores, loosening the grime that clung to her body. She sat down carefully, the water lapping at her shoulders. For a moment, she simply sat there, staring at the murky surface.

Then she grabbed the rough bar of soap and began scrubbing furiously, watching as the water darkened with filth. The grime came off in thick layers, swirling into the water like a dark cloud.

Her skin, once hidden beneath months of filth, emerged smooth, glowing faintly under the flickering lantern light. She ran her fingers over her arms, marveling at the softness she hadn’t felt in so long. 

Amelia tilted her head back, letting the water soak into her hair. It felt heavier than ever, tangling around her arms as she worked to clean it. With every stroke of her fingers, the knots loosened, and the strands began to flow like a dark waterfall down her back, reaching her knees. 

When the bath was finished, she stepped out and wrapped herself in the towel, shivering slightly as the cool air hit her damp skin. She approached the small mirror mounted on the wall, its surface tarnished and cracked. 

For the first time in years, she truly looked at herself. Her large hazel eyes stared back, wide and curious despite the shadow of exhaustion that lingered in their depths.

Her face, now clean, revealed high cheekbones and soft, full lips. Her hair, untangled and smooth, framed her features like a curtain of silk. 

Her gaze dropped to her body, and she frowned slightly. Her figure was fuller than she remembered, her waist narrow but her hips wide, Her legs were long and shapely, though her bare feet looked rough and scarred.

Amelia dressed slowly, pulling on the simple maid’s uniform. The skirt was long, brushing her ankles, and the sleeves were snug around her arms. The neckline dipped slightly, exposing the base of her throat, but it was modest.