Dark Feather: A Dark Post Apocalyptic Romance (8 page)

Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her wrist. Seeing the startled look on her face, I dropped her wrist with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I am a warrior, and once a Penna. I have been taught to be alert and to watch myself.”

The servant nodded in understanding, but she still seemed a tad frightened. “Can… can you get your feathers wet?” she asked, clearly afraid of my answer.

“Yes,” I simply answered.

“If you would like,” another servant jumped in, “we can let you undress in private and you can bathe in the oils of your own accord. If you would like to, there is also a tub of water to bathe in to cleanse yourself of dirt.”

I nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

With that, I walked into the bathroom and pushed the doors shut. Sighing, I stripped off my uniform, finally glad to be out of it. My naked body was covered from head to toe in grime. A thick air of musk exuded from my body, and I suddenly felt extremely unclean. Usually, I was used to all that came with weeks of not fully bathing, but now that I was in Rigby’s home, I felt incredibly dirty and impure.

I let my dark hair flow down past my shoulders. I was so used to putting it up in a band that it felt foreign to have it flow down my back. It was dirty and matted with blood, sweat, and icy particles.

I padded across the bathroom and gently slid into the tub filled with water. Compared to the cold water I usually bathed in, this was a blessing. It was warm and pure, easy on my skin. I let my entire body soak under the water for a few moments before getting to work on my filth.

For the next twenty minutes, I scrubbed off all the dirt from my body, which irritated my skin and made it incredibly pink. But I was just happy to be rid of all the filth. Looking down at the feathers on my wrists and then my ankles, I found my mindset shifting. I knew that only a short while earlier, I would have wished that I could just scrub those off as easily as I could scrub off my stink. I had never given much thought to my feathers until I left the Penna, only to be called a mutant by Oakes when I joined the Cyan. The feathers had made me even more different, and that had shamed me. I had hated them so much. But now, after Oakes’s admission that he actually envied me for their ability to keep me warm, I felt differently. He was right. I had never felt the bite of cold so bitter that every cell in my body would ache. Perhaps they weren’t as awful as I’d once believed.

Finally, I rose from the water and quickly ran across the bathroom to the other tub, which was filled with that purple, thick liquid. I dipped one finger in it and drew it across the surface, noting that it was thick and syrupy. Taking a deep breath, I slowly dipped one foot in, followed by the other. I let my body sink into the oil.

While the water of the first bath was clear and easy to move around in, the oil in the second one was thick, and it felt like I was trapped in quicksand. I was almost startled for a moment, but then I reminded myself that I was in Rigby’s house, not out in the icy battlefield.

I let the oils sink into every crevice of my body, and the scent overwhelmed my senses. The aroma was almost fruity, almost floral, but I couldn’t tell exactly what combination it was. It was a blessing compared to the rough soaps I and the other soldiers used while washing in the communal bathing areas.

I tipped my head back and rested it on the back of the tub, staring up at the ceiling. Before I knew it, my eyes were shut. I hadn’t realized how tired I was, and it was easy for me to slip into a gentle, light sleep. As I was always alert for enemies, I was used to sleeping in a light state, just in case I had to be on the move at a moment’s notice.

Just as I was sinking into a deeper sleep, I was jolted awake by the servants, who were all crowded around the bathtub. I jumped, my heart starting.

“We thought something had happened to you, Tudor,” one of the servants squeaked. “Please, forgive us for disturbing you.”

I shook my head to clear myself from my small nap, and rose from the tub, my body dripping with the thick oils.

“It’s all right,” I mumbled as one of the servants handed me a thick, soft towel.

I wrapped the towel around my shoulders and reveled in how soft it was to the touch as the servants filed out, stepping back into the bedroom. The wardrobe, which was made of thick, dark wood, was open, revealing a set of clothes.

I stopped in the bathroom doorway.

“Is there something wrong?” one of the servants asked me.

“Do I have to get dressed up?” I asked.

Another servant nodded. “As you will receive honors from General Dablin Becker this evening, it would be proper to dress in the right attire.”

I drew the towel tighter around my body and walked forward. The cool stone floor was slick under my feet, smooth compared to the packed snow of the icy land.

“This is what we have for you to wear to the celebratory dinner,” a girl said as she removed a long, crimson gown from the wardrobe.

The gown was a deep red color that briefly reminded me of blood. It was garnished with crystals and other jewels, and it seemed to flow effortlessly. It was a one-shouldered dress, with beading on the shoulder strap.

“You want me to actually wear this?” I questioned. All of the servants nodded with smiles. “My feathers will show.”

“That doesn’t matter,” one girl said. “It’s no secret you are a Penna. We don’t need to hide that fact. If anything, it fascinates us all.”

“Once you have finished drying yourself off,” another servant said, “we’ll help you into the gown.”

I nodded and quickly dried off my body. I stood still as the servants helped me into the crimson gown, and I suddenly felt like a different person.

No longer did I feel like the warrior who had slain one hundred men. No longer did I feel like the only woman in the army. No longer did I feel huge, bulky, and powerful.

I smiled. So, this was what it was to feel like a woman. I felt as elegant as the servants in this gown, and felt like I belonged with the rest of the females in the house. I felt beautiful, classy, cleansed.

“Now we will help you with your hair and your face,” a servant said. She reached out to touch my hand, but another girl shook her head in warning.

Instead, I followed all of the servants into the bathroom again, where I sat down on a plush dressing chair. Before me on the counter stood hundreds of small glass bottles and discs, all filled with different colors, with all the lost colors of the world, it seemed.

A servant grabbed a thick hairbrush from the counter and carefully raised it above my head. In the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she met my eyes and we shared a confirmation.

She stroked the brush through my long hair, pulling out all the knots and drying it. I winced a few times when my hair was pulled, but I sat through it. Next, I sat through the servant winding my hair up into an elegant updo, finished by clipping it together with a jeweled clasp that matched my crimson gown.

“Do you like your hair?” the servant asked, and that was when I realized that I had shut my eyes in the process.

I opened them again to see how beautiful my dark hair was. It had a certain shine to it and was piled on top of my head in an elegant, sophisticated manner. It seemed so different from the usual messy pile I threw it in when I trained or went to battle.

“It looks fine,” I said flatly. A lump formed in my throat, and I found it incredibly difficult to swallow.

One of the servants grabbed one of the glasses in front of me on the counter and opened it, smoothing a little red onto her finger. Immediately, I thought it was blood, but it was only some kind of powder.

“Now, please close your eyes,” she said, and I did so. The servant smoothed the bit of red powder over the tops of my eyelids and it was a strange sensation to feel.

After the servant finished, I opened my eyes and jumped a little. Seeing red at the tops of my eyes startled me, but I had to remind myself that I was not wounded. It was only a little makeup, used to enhance my beauty.

I sat through a few more minutes of beauty prepping as the servants added color to my cheeks and lips, the paint making them appear darker and more vibrant. Soon, I looked like the servants: polished, painted, and porcelain.

“Your shoes,” one of the servants said as she came back into the bathroom.

She held out a pair of crimson slippers to match the gown I was wearing. The slippers were soft to the touch and fit well on my feet, glimmering with the jewels in the light.

“Now all we need is jewelry,” another servant said. She asked me if I felt comfortable wearing jewelry.

I stared flatly at my reflection. “I have never worn jewels in my entire life. I don’t know what it feels like to be adorned with them at all.”

The servant merely stared at me before leaving the room and coming back with a heavy wooden chest. She set it on the counter and opened it, revealing a mess of jewels that were strung on a chain. The servant rifled through them for a few moments before pulling out a string of red rubies.

I sat still as she strung the gems around my neck and clasped it at the back. The necklace was heavy and pressed down against my sternum, but it was no heavier than the armor I once wore. I had lifted grown men onto my back and carried them through miles in the freezing temperatures during the most recent battle. I could most certainly handle a dainty necklace.

“You are all ready, Tudor,” the first servant announced, inviting me to stand up.

“This is it?” I asked as I stood and glanced once more in the mirror. I stared at a stranger. A beautiful, dainty, elegant stranger. Never had I seen such a beautiful woman.

Moving my gaze toward the servants, I said, “Thank you.” It didn’t seem like much, but as I was unaccustomed to giving voice to any appreciation, it was a great deal.

“The celebratory dinner begins in thirty minutes,” another servant declared. “It would be wise to be seated soon, before the food is served.”

I silently followed the women out of the bathroom. The gown was just a tad too long, and I started to trip over the hem. But I carried myself well enough that no one would notice.

The servants led me down the hallway, and I saw many groups of guests, all dressed in fine fabrics of varying colors. Other than my feathers, I didn’t feel like such an outsider anymore. I felt like I actually belonged amongst the finely dressed for once.

Continuing down the hall, the servants and I turned into the large dining hall, which made me stop in my tracks. The ceiling was high, and a dozen small tables dotted the room. At the front stood a long table decorated with place settings and fine table runners. Due to the low lighting, I felt as though I were standing in the snow as the sun sank below the horizon; it cast a dreamy look across the room.

I quickly shook my head and caught up with the servants. I dodged around a few different people, and suddenly stopped running once I realized that everyone else was walking. If I was supposed to be sophisticated, I needed to act like it.

As I approached the group of servants, I again glanced at the long table at the front of the room. A few people were already sitting down and I stopped.

A regal man was sitting at the head of the table, his dark hair perfectly coiffed. His skin, which was the color of snow, was smooth, and almost glowed in the low lighting. Even from far away, his hazel eyes glimmered as they suddenly landed on me.

The general briefly smiled at me, and I dropped my gaze to my shoes and started walking. I made my way to the group of servants, who showed me to my seat.

“Tudor, this is General Dablin Becker,” one of them said, gesturing to him.

The general immediately rose from his chair. He was much taller than I had imagined. He swiftly took a few steps forward and bowed before me. With shy smiles, the servants quickly left me alone.

“It is an honor to meet with you, Tudor,” the general said, his voice smooth and rich. “But call me Dablin, please. I hate all the formalities.”

I could only blink. Even though I had murdered hundreds of men who looked just like Dablin, I could hardly stand in his presence without feeling like I was a mere peasant girl.

“Please, come join me,” Dablin said as he pulled out a chair next to his. “We have just fifteen minutes before the dinner begins.” I walked closer, trying to steady my breathing. “My cousin speaks highly of you. I hear you are a fierce warrior, worthy of any opponent.”

I nodded and tried to smile without seeming awkward. I carefully sat down in my chair, remembering to keep my head up.

“Thank you for giving me the invitation for tonight,” I said quietly.

“It is an honor to have you here,” Dablin said, leaning towards me with a small smile. “After all, you are the only female soldier in my army, and you led our men to victory. My cousin Rigby also speaks of marriage. He believes you were sent to us for a reason. So a small dinner is the least I could do to honor you.”

“What would be the
most
you could do to honor me?” I suddenly asked.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I would probably give you jewels, beautiful gowns, and anything else you desired. Although I feel you would want none.”

I laughed and felt a blush creep onto my face, making it pinker than it already was. The light conversation with Dablin put my nerves at ease. I had never imagined him being so personable. We spoke of past battles for several moments until we were interrupted by Rigby’s entrance.

I turned my head and made eye contact. Rigby gave me a warm smile and gracefully made his way to stand by my side.

I stood up to greet him. “Hello, sir. Thank you for having me.” The words of my greeting came out far more formally than I intended.

He smiled again and looked at Dablin. “I see you have met my cousin.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Rigby pulled out my chair a bit more and motioned for me to sit again. “Please have a seat.” I did as he asked and he took the seat next to mine.

Dablin stood up to start the celebration. “My guests, I am honored to stand before you. We are here for celebration, for thanks and joy. We are also here to acknowledge a great soldier amongst our army.” His gaze went to me as he raised his glass. “We are here to celebrate the strength of Tudor.” The room cheered in unison.

I smiled and nodded at all the toasts. I tried to hide how uncomfortable I felt. Rigby must have sensed my discomfort because he reached under the table and grabbed my hand. The small squeeze he offered did wonders to calm my raging nerves.

“So tonight,” Dablin continued, “we feast. Tomorrow, we conquer.” More cheers broke out as the general returned to his seat.

For the next ten minutes, Rigby and I launched into casual conversation, and I found myself laughing more now than I ever had before. Soon, the meal was brought out, and I had to restrain myself from eating like an animal with all the variety of food that was offered to me. In between bites, Rigby and I talked, and I found myself getting more and more comfortable with him as the night went on.

Eventually, Dablin paused the meal to declare the victory of the army in more detail. Everyone let out a cheer and I sat stiffly, setting my food aside even though I was still starving. I hesitantly stood up when Dablin called upon me to recognize me for my service to the army.

Then everyone went back to eating, and I quickly finished the rest of my meal, not caring about who saw me or how I ate.

Just as I was dabbing my mouth with a napkin, Rigby nudged my elbow and leaned forward so that his lips were at my ear.

“Would you accompany me in getting some fresh air?” he asked quietly.

Just his lips at my ear made me shiver a little, and I nodded. Rigby grinned, then stood up and offered me his hand. I took it with a controlled smile and we slipped out of the dining hall without anyone paying much notice.

Once we were back in the hallway, I stumbled a little. The wine I had been drinking caused my mind to spin.

“Where are we going?” I asked when Rigby squeezed my hand and started pulling me down the hallway.

“Somewhere quiet,” he said in a whisper, urging me to follow him.

I followed with no resistance, and we lightly ran down the hallway. Almost everyone in the house was enjoying dinner in the dining hall, and they were all eating and talking, so no one would really notice our absence. In the dimly lit halls, we hurried. I slipped down the polished stone in my soft slippers, let out a curse, then covered my mouth with my hand. Rigby shushed me with a soft smile on his lips. Then he pulled me down another hallway that was lit by torches and seemed a little more elegant than the rest of the building.

“Where are we going?” I asked with a smile.

Rigby merely shook his head, then pulled me into a room. He drew the stone door back into place and leaned against it.

“Where are we?” I asked quietly.

The room we were standing in held a lavish bed with four posts, a canopy stretched over it. The walls were decorated with ornate artwork, and the floor was covered with a plush rug. The room’s lighting was provided by two torches.

“This is my room,” Rigby said, gesturing around it with a sweep of his arm. He removed his boots and sat down on the foot of his bed, inviting me to join him.

With my heart rate spiking, and feeling a little dizzy from the wine, I sat down beside him. I almost moaned in delighted pleasure when he put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned slightly into him, feeling my face grow warm. I assumed this was what they would call a ‘cuddle,’ something I had never done in my life, and I enjoyed the simple comfort of it.

“Here, lie back with me,” he said softly, leaning back on his bed. He fell back against the pillows at the head of the bed and I joined him, leaning my head against his chest.

Rigby smelled like spice and wine, and I inhaled deeply. The wine I’d drunk caused my body to feel heavy, and my head even more so.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he murmured against the top of my head, his fingers gently running through my tresses. “I know this isn’t a setting you are used to, and I know I asked a lot of you to do this.”

“I wore a dress for you,” I teased. “And I even bathed!”

Rigby laughed loudly. “Well, thank goodness for that!”

“But all the servants, the big house, the extravagance… it just isn’t me. I grew up with all of that and hated it,” I admitted.

“May I ask you something?”

I simply nodded.

“Why did you leave the Penna?”

I froze.

He must have felt my tension. “Why does my question bother you?”

“The past is where I left it. I don’t want to revisit it.” I held my breath, hoping that my answer would be sufficient enough and he wouldn’t press any further.

“But our past is what made us become who we are. I want to know what there is to know about you, Tudor.”

“You’ve told me nothing of your past,” I countered, hoping to divert the conversation.

“What do you want to know? There’s nothing I won’t tell you,” he offered. He didn’t wait for me to ask but began on his own. “All my family is dead besides my cousin Dablin. He and I grew up together as children, and stayed together even after the raid. Penna soldiers came into my village when I was ten years old and killed everyone in sight. There was no mercy for anyone. Women were killed. Children. Everyone. Dablin was sixteen at the time, and managed to sneak us out safely as everything we knew and everyone we loved burned down to nothing but ash.” He paused and held my wrist, running a fingertip along my feathers. “We vowed that day to kill all who had feathers. All.” He took a deep breath. “And the day I saw you, I would have killed you like I did all the others, except something stopped me.”

“What stopped you?”

Rigby shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, or allow anyone else to.” He ran his hand through his tousled hair while he stared up at the ceiling. “With a thirst for revenge, Dablin and I fought our way up the ranks of the Cyans, and eventually became the leaders. Years of war, and many deaths.”

“Do you feel you got your revenge?” I asked softly.

“No. I don’t think I ever will. No matter how many Penna I killed, the hole in my heart just grew bigger and bigger.” He took a deep breath and turned toward me. “So what about you? Are you seeking revenge? What makes you kill the way you do?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s all I have ever done. I’m different from you in that the Penna do not allow emotion to come into play. Revenge is most certainly an emotion, and a deadly one at that.”

Rigby nodded. “That it is. But something must have made you fight. And you still haven’t told me why you decided to leave. What happened? Did they do something to you?”

“No, they never did anything to me. I grew up seeing a side of the Penna that I hated, and…” I sighed, hating that I had opened up about my past as much as I had done. “I’m a soldier who left the Penna. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Do you not trust me?” he asked, looking skeptical at my resistance. “Do you have something so awful to hide that you fear I will judge you?”

I took a deep breath. “Another time. I have had a wonderful evening, and I just want to spend this time with you, and not allow any storm clouds of my past to take it all away. Can we have this conversation another time? Please?”

There was a long moment of silence. I looked up at him, and before I knew it, Rigby’s lips were pressed against mine, and I felt my body catch fire. I froze for a brief moment but let my hands wander up to caress his face. My hair fell down my back as soon as he unfastened the jeweled clip that had been placed there with care.

I drank him in, inhaling his sweet scent and reveling in the taste of his lips. He tasted like wine, mint, and the food we had at dinner. I could not get enough of his essence.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against my mouth. “I’ve been so busy since returning to Danis that I’ve neglected you. I’m sorry.”

“You run an army. I completely understand. Besides,” I said as I kissed his lips again softly, “it has allowed me to train freely without you watching my every move.”

He smiled against the kiss. “Do you feel I smother you with my overprotectiveness?”

“No, not smothered. Protected, cared for, yes. But not smothered. I hate to admit this,” I paused to come up with the right words, “but I enjoy it. And I have missed it.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled, “is that a hint of submission I see in my strong-willed soldier?”

I giggled, the unfamiliar sound surprising me. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never giggled, or even laughed freely. A Penna soldier did not do such things. It felt nice. It felt really nice.

“It’s all right to laugh. I like seeing this side of you,” he said as he swiped a wayward hair away from my eye. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. The softness in you is beautiful.”

“You find me beautiful?” I had never been told such a thing.