Xan groaned as his eyes creaked open and the black faded, clearing his vision. He was so lost. The room was dimly lit with no windows. Lion-shaped gold candleholders hung from the walls while tall white candles burned lower and wax dripped on the floor as their wicks burned.
He was in a large tub full of warm water filled with suds and bubbles. Thick towels and a pair of clothes sat on a table next to the wall. He blinked. How had he gotten here? Why was he here? Who had undressed him?
As if on cue, an elderly woman bustled in. She wore a plain beige dress with a white apron. Her brown gray-streaked hair was pulled back with a kerchief and a smile graced her motherly face when she saw he'd woken up.
"Yer awake," she said cheerfully, "We were afraid ye were gonna sleep forever."
"No such luck," he said, "Are ye Fayelian?"
"Aye, I am." She said with a smile, "Though I was here way bef're th' war." Xan nodded. She smiled at him and grabbed a sponge. "Well, we've got t' get ye clean, now, don't we? Can have ye taken t' Master Phaulkin smellin' like a prison, now, can we?"
"Master Phaulkin?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. Didn' Master Phox tell ye? Yer a gift fer his brother, Phaulkin," she said as she picked up a bucket.
"Master Phox?" He asked as she dipped it into the tub, and then poured it over his head.
"Crowned prince of Mengapor and 'eir t' the king's thrown. Arm."
"Oh," Xan said distastefully, sticking out his arm, "Him. He may 'ave said somethin'."
She smiled and scrubbed at his skin, "Someone doesn' like Master Phox very much."
Xan snorted, "No, someone doesn' like 'im at all," he said and gave her his other arm.
"Well," she chuckled, "we'll just have ta make sure ye like Master Phaulkin," She smiled at him warmly as she washed the other arm.
Xan frowned, not really wanting to be washed, but he let her do it any way. She hummed softly as she scrubbed at his skin. It made him uncomfortable, letting her do this, but he just decided to remain quiet. He thought about what was going on and where he was. Then, for the fist time in his life, he was truly afraid.
"You'll be good fer Master Phaulkin," She said as she took a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into her palm.
"What do you mean?"
"Y'see," she cooed as she worked the shampoo into his hair and scalp, "Master Phaulkin and Master Phox are twin brothers, but Master Phox was born first and is therefore 'eir to the throne. His Majesty pays more attention t' Phox so Phaulkin is a bit neglected. Of course, 'tis possible that you'll get pushed away like all of the other slaves Phox's bought fer Phaulkin, but I doubt it. Yer awfully sweet, for a soldier."
She used the bucket again to wash the suds out of Xan's hair as he spoke with a small smile, "I was drafted. I don't want to be 'ere. I want t' go home and play with m' sisters and dance at th' Festival of the Green Moon next week."
"Ah!" she exclaimed happily, "I remember that! Me and m' sisters would always dress up all pretty and get gussied up to see who'd get t' dance with th' handsomest man. We were so silly."
Xan smiled widely, "Don't ye wish ye could go back and have fun like that just one more time?"
"I will," she smiled, "His Majesty has a policy that if a servant lives to be sixty-five, 'e'll let 'em go. Two more years and I'm off t' Fayela!" She said happily.
The redhead smiled softly and sighed, "Wish I could go with ye."
Just then Prince Phox walked in.
"Oh. He's awake. Good. Is he almost ready?" The Prince asked.
"Yes, Master Phox," she said with a bright smile "'e cleans up nice, too. Think ye actually picked a good one f'r once," she laughed.
Phox pretended to be offended, "I thought that blond girl was very nice,"
He said with a slight snicker.
"Oh, yes," she said sarcastically, "'cept she wouldn' stop cryin'."
Xan chewed on his lip as they talked. He wanted to run, to scream, to cry, to. just do something, but he didn't. He just sat there, wondering what he should do. Should he say something? Should he get out of the tub? Should he just sit there and act stupid? Yes, that would work.
"Well, we'd better get ye out of there b'fore you catch a cold," she said softly. She made Phox turn around, and then made Xan get out of the tub.
He let out a surprised squeal when she grabbed one of the fluffy towels and started drying him off. He tried to relax, but found such a task highly impossible.
"Would ye calm down? Yer tight as a piano wire. 've done this millions o' times, so stop worrying about it."
"I'm not worrying, I'm just."
"Embarrassed?" Phox asked from where he was staring at the wall, "I thought you said he was a good one, Namarei."
"Oh, hush, you." She laughed, "Put on those cloths an' get out of my bathhouse, both of ye."
Xan frowned at the clothes. It was a light blue silk tunic with dark blue silk pants and a black sash to tie around his waist. He didn't really like the color blue that much, but he didn't dislike it enough to just walk around without clothes. He dressed quickly, then frowned more at the lack of undergarments.
"Are you ready yet?" Phox asked.
"Yes," Xan said quietly, but loud enough for the prince to hear.
"Good. Follow me, please. Namarei, I'll see you later."
"I'm sure," the old woman said as they left.