The Jewel by Amy Ewing Page A

most extraordinary eyes,” she says. There’s something in her expression I can’t understand—hope, maybe? Then she’s gone, the Regimentals trailing after her.
    I feel my muscles begin to crumble, and tears prick my eyes again. The left side of my face is throbbing. I sway on my feet a little, until Cora’s strong hands grip my arm and elbow.
    â€œYou’re all right,” she says. “Let’s sit down.”
    She leads me to one of the sofas and sits beside me. “Let me see,” she says, tilting my face toward her. “Oh, that’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice ointment.”
    I stare at the massive chandelier overhead, crystals and emeralds glittering in the soft light. Suddenly, this beautiful room makes me feel cold.
    A door opens and I hear Cora’s voice. “Wait in the dressing room.”
    I don’t know who she’s talking to and I don’t have the energy to look. More doors open and close. When Cora comes back, there’s a pale blue jar in her hands. She unscrews it and dabs some ointment onto my sore cheek. Relief is instantaneous; my skin is cooled, the pain in my eye socket numbed.
    â€œThanks,” I mumble.
    â€œYou did very well,” Cora says softly.
    â€œWhy did she hit me?” I ask. My voice breaks and a tear spills down my cheek.
    Cora places a hand gently on the uninjured side of my face, wiping the tear away with her thumb. “This isn’t the Marsh, child. I didn’t make the rules. But there are rules. You’re her property now.” Cora’s lips press together. “She’s not a bad mistress, really. There are worse, I promise you. But you’re strong. I can see that. You’ll be all right.” Her eyes glaze a little and her brow furrows. “You’ll be all right. . . .” Then she smiles brightly and stands, holding out a hand. “What do you say we get you ready for dinner?”
    I take her hand and she helps me up, but a seed of fear has taken root in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like the look on her face when she said I’d be all right.
    M Y POWDER ROOM IS ABOUT HALF THE SIZE OF MY BEDROOM , but still enormous.
    The sink and toilet are made of dark blue stone, with a big claw-footed copper bathtub taking up nearly an entire wall. Fluffy blue towels hang from copper rods and the plush bathmat beneath my feet is striped in navy and periwinkle. There is no tap on the bathtub, but to my shock and joy, Cora pulls a lever and water shoots from a wide spout on the ceiling, like a waterfall of rain.
    I reach out my hand, mesmerized by the hot water running through my fingers. Cora smiles.
    â€œYou’ve never taken a shower before, have you?”
    I shake my head. “Only baths.”
    â€œYou’re in for a treat. Go on, then, and don’t dally. We’ve only got an hour.” She eases herself into an upholstered blue armchair in a corner by the sink.
    â€œAre you . . .” I pull my jade dressing gown tighter. “Are you staying here?”
    â€œDon’t look so embarrassed, child. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” When I don’t move, she sighs and covers her eyes with her hand. “Pull the curtain around you once you’re in.”
    I strip off my nightclothes and step into the tub. Steam sticks to my skin and wilts the last of Lucien’s curls. I pull the curtain, striped to match the bathmat, closed around me. Then I step under the waterfall.
    I am in ecstasy.
    Water pours over my head, dripping into my mouth and running down my shoulders, its heat relaxing the muscles in my back and legs. I let out an involuntary sigh.
    I hear Cora’s laughter through the curtain. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
    I pull my fingers through my hair again and again, luxuriating in the feel of the hot water as it runs over my scalp. There is a copper shelf filled with soaps