“Are you finished, milady?” one of them asked Coco. When she nodded, the maid held out a silk robe, and Coco—shooting a quick, dubious glance in my direction—hesitated before stepping into it. I hid a smile behind my hand. I couldn’t speak for Coco, but I hadn’t been waited on since I’d left the Chateau at sixteen. Had anyone ever pampered her? My grin spread as another maid presented her with bottles of perfumed oils for her skin and hair. The others set about emptying the tub and refilling it with fresh water.

“From the geysers below the palace,” one explained through the steam. She selected a gown for Coco, draping it across the ornate—albeit mildewed—chair in the corner. “We often visit them to bathe ourselves, yet this is our first opportunity to use their waters in such a fashion. How did you find your bath?” she asked Coco. “Was it pleasant?”

“Very.” Slowly, Coco trailed her fingers along the lace of her nightgown. “Thank you.”

The maid smiled. “Very good. Is there anything else you require?”

Coco touched a tentative hand to her stomach. “I’m actually feeling a little sick.”

“We shall send for some ginger tea. Just harvested from a ship on route to Amandine. It will settle your stomach.”

I waited until they’d left before shucking off my bloody chemise and sinking into the tub. The water nearly scalded me, but I relished the heat of it, the catharsis. Dipping my head back, I scrubbed at my scalp, loosening the sand and dirt there. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been truly clean.

I glanced again at Reid, who hadn’t wet himself and hadn’t woken.

Coco removed his hand from the bowl. “We need to get creative. You could—”

A light knock sounded from the threshold, and we both turned. “It’s me,” Célie said softly. “May I come in?”

At the sound of her voice, Coco and I both froze, exchanging a panicked look. It wasn’t as if we disliked Célie. Indeed, we’d risked life and limb to save her, but we hadn’t . . . spent time with her. Not really. We hadn’t bonded outside of La Mascarade des Crânes. We weren’t friends.

Coco gestured toward the curtain. Go on, she mouthed. Answer her.

I waved an agitated hand down my naked body.

Coco shrugged, the corners of her mouth lifting. Who cares? You’re hot as f—

“Come in!” I called, flinging wet sea salt at Coco’s smug face. It landed with a splat, soaking her robe, just as Célie poked her head into the room. “Hi, Célie. Is something wrong?”