Chapter 6 'Maid' uniform

Zephyra

With all the troubles I crossed as my healing comes to an end, I am now about to open the door leading to my next struggle: my first day as a maid.

I wonder what "work" truly entailed here. Was it endless scrubbing? Or something far worse, given the predatory gleam in Malachi's eyes when he looked at me?

A knock on my door startled me from my anxious thoughts. "Come in," I called, bracing myself as I fixed my hair, trying to appear composed to welcome them with a small smile.

Maria entered, still looking gentle as ever, but her eyes held a hint of apprehension. Behind her, Deliah stood, arms crossed, her usual stern expression firmly in place.

"Good morning, Zeph," Maria softly spoke. "It's time. We're going to the Wardrobe Chamber. You'll get your official uniform from there, then we will guide you to the first station where all maids first begin."

"Suck it up now, Zephyra," Deliah spoke, her serious, hazel eyes staring at me with no hint of coddling my weakness. "The moment we leave you there, you have to be on your own. This isn't your pack anymore, keep that in your pretty little head."

***

The Wardrobe Chamber is less of a grand hall and more of a functional, cavernous room filled with rows of pegs and racks, bustling with other women-maids, I presumed, judging by their varied attire.

"We don't know what uniform you'll get, but no matter what you receive, you have to wear it every time you're working." Maria reminded, making me nod as I roam my eyes around and observe my fellow girls.

Some wore simple, serviceable tunics and trousers, others more elaborate, yet modest, dresses. It seemed Malachi did indeed have different uniforms depending on the tasks, or perhaps his mood. The air hummed with hushed conversations and the rustle of fabric.

"Are you and Deliah maids here too?" I asked, making her glance at me and shake her head no.

"I am part of the cooks, and Deliah is one of the female hunters in the west woods." She replied as she guided me towards one of the multiple rooms.

"Stay here for a bit." She gave my hand a soft squeeze before she and Deliah went to the counter, speaking to a middle-aged woman for a while, giving me occasional glances which left me standing awkwardly in my spot.

Soon, they finished conversing and the lady turned to the cabinet behind her, picking up a box and handed it to Maria.

Returning back to me, she offered me the box. "Here."

My breath hitched. "Thank you," I murmured before sitting down to a nearby chair to open the box I placed on my lap.

"What in the moon goddess...?"

It was made of a flimsy, almost translucent black silk, so fine it felt barely here in my hands. The skirt was short, shockingly so, designed to barely graze my mid-thigh, ending in layers of delicate, lace-edged ruffles. The bodice was a tight, low-cut, corset-style top with thin, crisscrossing straps that exposed far more skin than any practical uniform should.

"This is my uniform?" I asked, holding one of the frills that is almost mocking in their frivolity, which lined the neckline and the edges of a tiny apron. It felt less like a uniform and more like a costume designed purely for observation, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

A wave of heat rushed to my face. My hands, still slightly bandaged, instinctively clenched. "Maria...this...this can't be right."

I gestured vaguely at the flimsy material. "This isn't a maid's uniform. It's uh," The words felt pathetic, but the discomfort was profound.

Maria's smile faltered, her gaze dropping to the fabric. "We don't have a choice in uniforms, Zeph. And for his personal attendants like you, they tend to be...tailored to his preference." She sounded apologetic, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's what he wants. You wear it for your own sake," Deliah cut in, her tone flat, impatient. She tossed the smaller package onto the bench beside us. It was a pair of equally sheer stockings and tiny, heeled slippers.

"Don't be stupid if you want to live."

My humiliation flared into defiance. "I won't wear this! I'll wear the regular ones. I'll clean, I'll cook, but I'm not... I'm not wearing this." The memory of the Moonstone robes, modest and concealing, felt like a distant dream.

"Oh, Zeph,"

Before Maria could offer another placating word, a new voice, dripping with saccharine malice, cut through the air. "The sun barely shone, and here you are, throwing a tantrum."

Turning to the direction of the voice, we saw Carina in a uniform that made my eyes widen.

She stood a few feet away, flanked by her two sneering companions, a cruel smile twisting her lips. Her own uniform was a bold scarlet, a shocking splash of color against the subdued tones of the other maids. It was even more audacious than the one Maria held for me: the skirt was barely there, the bodice cut so low it defied gravity, and thin silver chains draped across her bare midriff, glinting with every exaggerated swagger.

She reveled in it, in the attention it garnered, in the way it showcased her own body.

"What's the matter, newbie?" Carina sneered, circling me slowly like a predator. "Too much skin for the Moonstone flower? Or are you worried it'll reveal just how... unimpressive you truly are?" Her eyes raked over me, a malicious glint in them.

My face burned. I could feel every gaze in the chamber turning to us. The whispers started, a low hum of curiosity and judgment.

"Leave her alone, Carina," Maria said, stepping slightly in front of me, her voice trembling but resolute.

Carina's sneer sharpened, now directed at Maria. "Don't worry, little Maria. We'll get back to playing with you later, so stay put for now, hm?" The other rogues chuckled, nudging each other.

Just as Carina's cronies began to lean in, anticipation in their eyes, a low, dangerous growl rumbled through the chamber, cutting through the snickers like a knife.

"Enough. A step closer to these two, and I'll feed your raw meat to the hounds."

Deliah had stepped forward, her body language radiating pure, untamed ferocity. Her eyes, usually just stern, now blazed with a cold fury that made even the air feel thin. But the sheer force of her presence made Carina flinch back, her smirk faltering.

"Go bother someone who actually cares about your pathetic existence, Carina," Deliah continued, her voice flat, but each word a honed blade.

"Or better yet, go find a hole to crawl into. Before I put you there." Her gaze was unflinching, daring Carina to defy her.

Carina's face contorted, a mixture of rage and unwilling submission. She shot a venomous glare at Deliah, then her eyes flicked to me, still burning with hate.

"This isn't over, newbie," she spat, her voice low and tight with frustrated fury. She then spun on her heel, her companions scurrying to follow, and stomped away, the scarlet uniform a defiant blur.

The tension in the chamber slowly dissipated, though the hushed whispers about the confrontation continued. Deliah watched Carina go, her shoulders still rigid.

"Don't start fights you can't finish," she muttered, more to herself than to me, though her gaze briefly landed on my bewildered face.

"Thank you," I said, genuinely, my throat tight.

Deliah merely grunted, turning back to the packages she'd brought earlier. "Put on the damn uniform. The King won't wait."

Swallowing my pride, I began to change, Maria hovering protectively outside the dressing room, offering soft words of encouragement.

The fabric felt foreign and exposed against my skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the room. Every movement felt self-conscious, every rustle of the frills a stark reminder of my new, degrading status.

Ready, I stepped out, feeling utterly exposed. My new 'uniform' clung to me, accentuating curves I normally kept hidden, the short skirt feeling indecent. Maria gave me an encouraging, if pained, smile. Deliah merely grunted.

"Come on," Deliah said, her voice brusque. "The King expects punctuality. We can't have you kicked out the first day."