River of Shadows by Karina Halle

Author:Karina Halle [Halle, Karina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Underworld Gods #1
Published: 2022-01-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The Daughter

After Death left, I wanted to go talk to Bell about everything she just witnessed, but I didn’t have a moment to myself. I had just finished putting on the new nightgown—something white, lacy, and satiny that clung to my curves—and not because Death asked me to, but because I didn’t want to be naked anymore, when Raila came inside the room. She was all a titter about the dinner tonight and getting me ready for it.

Which meant getting me naked—yet again—and into the tub she filled with steaming hot water. I have to admit, getting past the whole being-nude-in-front-of-strangers part, the bath feels wonderful, especially since she just put a whole bunch of fragrant herbs in it that seem to clear my lungs and head. An unexpected bonus is that the tub has a faucet, which means this castle has indoor plumbing. The toilet in my room is more of squat on the floor style, but at least it ain’t shit into a bucket and pour it out the window style. I have a feeling the indoor plumbing thing is something else that one of Death’s errand boys procured from the Upper World and once again I picture some skeleton dude perusing Ikea’s bathroom department.

It’s so very exciting that you get to go to dinner, Raila says as she scoops up the bathwater into a wooden bucket and pours it over my head.

The water gets in my eyes and mouth and I spit it out. She may be my exuberant servant, but she doesn’t have a lot of finesse. “I’d rather stay in my room.”

Oh no, you must not say that, she says, reaching for a tarnished silver jar on the wood ledge beside the tub and giving it a rough shake. Pale gold semi-translucent liquid gel comes out and she rubs it vigorously between her gloved palms. Being invited to dinner with the master is a real honor. You are sure to have the finest food and drink in the land. It’s no wonder that he wants you to look your best, he hasn’t had a beautiful woman in here in such a long time.

She applies the goop to my wet hair and starts rubbing it into my scalp, rather violently I might add. “You mind easing up there?”

My apologies, she says, the pressure lifting just a little. My husband said I never had a woman’s touch. She laughs melodically at that, but considering what she did to her husband leaves me feeling just a tad uneasy.

It also doesn’t help that I still haven’t seen her face beneath that black shroud and she’s still wearing satin gloves despite the fact that she’s bathing me. I mean wet gloves? Ew.

“Speaking of touch,” I say. “Do you have the touch of death too? Is that why you’re wearing gloves?”

Boy, you really weren’t joking when you said you’d be asking lots of questions, she says. She clears her throat, her tone more grave now. No, I wear gloves, and this shroud, because my appearance isn’t very becoming.

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