hewn city pilled

The tub they'd wrangled Aisling into had been filled with fragrant herbs and petals of some orange flower. The handmaidens fluttered around her as she soaked, alternately scrubbing her raw then massaging scented oil into the skin they'd just scoured: the objective was to buff all previous softness away, then replace it with their own, preferred Autumn softness. No inch of flesh was spared their attentions. By the end she was a cracked egg, soft and pliant.

"Lord Eris prefers this scent," Brangaine said, and Aisling didn't ask how she knew what Lord Eris preferred on his females.

Aisling was saved answering by the Lady, who entered into the bathing chamber like it was her own. She was cinched up in velvet and silk, covered neck to toe, and her auburn hair was left loose around her. It picked up the firelight, gleaming richly; for a moment, Aisling thought of the old wood that made Beron's throne, polished smooth by generations of faerie-lords. The handmaids were dismissed at a wave of her hand, a graceful sweeping gesture, a flick of her fine-boned wrist.

They were alone. She tilted her fox-eyes at Aisling, studying her closely. Aisling drew her knees to her chest, knowing when she was being weighed and measured.

"Every time I look upon you, I find myself shocked anew," she said, and moved to stand beside the bathtub. Aisling stayed coiled. "A more different creature to Autumn could not be imagined. And yet, you'll shortly wed my son, and be thus elevated."

One of her pale hands fluttered, landing on Aisling's hair. Black as night, black as coal, so different from the bright-haired family she'd been brought to. She fingered a lock of it; she let it slide through her fingers, then join the rest in the bathwater. Her lips pursed, even as she knelt to the floor beside Aisling. There was no escaping her, and the room grew hot and close around them.

"You must be perfect," the Lady said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Aisling said, and was rewarded with the Lady grabbing her chin between thumb and forefinger.

"You do not," she accused. "I can see it in your eyes. I am not so blind that I do not see what Eris desires in you, nor am I so foolish that I cannot predict what may come of this union. You are starting life in this Court at a disadvantage, and so you must be perfection, in all ways. There will be no mis-steps, not for you."

It was the most Aisling had ever heard her speak. Eris took largely after his sire, but here, so close to her, she could see him in the set of his mother's eyes and the tilt of her chin.

"Let me see what my son has bought," the Lady said, and pulled her knees away from her body. Aisling prickled beneath her study: her skin grew tight, too-small and flinching under such evaluation.

She firmed her mouth. The Lady tilted her head, her long fingers sweeping first against Aisling's collarbones, then down to her breasts, hefting them lightly. Her touch was hot, even above the heat of the bath: she could spark to the touch.

It took only a brush of her thumbs for Aisling's nipples to peak, and she shuddered beneath the touch, even as sweat prickled on the back of her head. The heat was made her mind swim. The Lady pursed her mouth approvingly.

"You are not so large as to be considered wanton. You have the shape Eris prefers," she said, as if Aisling could have done anything about the shape of her tits should the Lady have found them unsatisfactory. "You'll look beautiful, beside him. All eyes will be upon you as a measure of him, and so they must desire what they see. This is the only power you are to have at his side, lest you diminish him."

The last was said musingly, as her eyes traced lower, then lower still. There was the same calculation about the Lady that Eris possessed as she came to her cunt.

"Are you as yet untouched?" the Lady asked, plainly, as if Aisling were a whore being arranged for the night. Her mouth opened, then closed; it was a quick, vicious pinch to her nipple that made Aisling flinch and answer.

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Though not for Lord Eris' lack of trying."

The Lady nodded approvingly, then neatly pulled back her sleeve. Her forearms were pale, and fine as a birch branch, bone-bright in the dark. Her hand dove like an otter, through the herbs and petals and —

Aisling sucked in a breath as the Lady quested one finger into her cunt. Her forearm twisted through the water as she pressed against the muscle inside her, feeling; everything in Aisling clenched down hard. She couldn't look away from the Lady's face, its serene lack of expression until — the sun through clouds — the hint of a smile at the edge of her mouth.

"I thought the Night Court to be liars all," she said mildly, "But you've spoken truly. Well fought, to have preserved yourself. I know that Court is raucous, and your people enjoy your dark pleasures."

The addition of a second finger made Aisling grip the edges of the bathtub, perfumed water sloshing over the edge; petals and all sent to the floor in a slap.

Her pliability was tested. Aisling stared at the ceiling, the twisted snarl of roots that formed it as her walls were pressed back and back. Finally, the Lady withdrew.

"The coming night may be painful for you," she remarked. A petal clung to her hand, which she idly brushed off. "Eris ought to come to you with a softer hand than what he's known for, though I find him to be unpredictable." This last was said with a look to Aisling's dark hair. She sunk down into the water, up to her neck; despite this, her body was perused once more, its worthiness and sturdiness and beauty evaluated.

The Lady frowned at what she saw, and Aisling grew restless in the heat. The flowers and oil were cloying, now.

"There never has been a night I did not survive," Aisling said. "Perhaps they hold fear for you, but not for me."