8 Bath Salts

For a moment she had the urge to run to her mother. Surely she would understand after being wedded off against her will as well. 

Then she remembered her words from earlier. 

'A war is coming Marci. And you're the only way we can win.' 

No, if her father was like this then her mother would only be worse.

She turned on her heels and with slow feet, made her way back to her bedchambers.

She was on her own this time.

***

For the first few hours of the rest of her day, Marci stayed locked away in her room. Coming in after being slapped by her father, Marci ushered Lea out and locked the door behind her. 

Then she sulked in her self pity.

She ignored the knock and call that lunch was being served. When she didn't come down, Lea came with her tray of food. 

Two hours later and her food still layed untouched on the table outside her door. 

She sat up from her bed and wiped her tears. The makeup that Lea put on her that morning was smeared and messy. How quickly she fell from poise and grace. 

A knock came from her door, and Marci couldn't help the huff that escaped her. 

"Go away." She groaned, annoyed with the constant rap of knuckles against solid wood. She wasn't coming out, not until she was ready too. And right now, she was not ready. Why was she given less than 24 hours to accept her fate? Why did her father hold off until the very last moment to tell her? 

It was so unfair! 

She smacked her covers over and over. When she stopped she blew out a breath. 

There was a knock on the door again, this time more urgently.

"Marci, open this door." Her mother scolded from the other side. 

She groaned softly, not wanting her mother to hear it. What could she possibly want from her now? 

"Marciella Foure the Second, open the door. I will not repeat myself again." The Duchess said, her voice firm. 

Marci stomped to the door and unlocked it. Her mother pushed her way in and closed the door behind her. Locking it, she turned around and for the first time Marci saw the large velvet pouch tightly clutched in her hand. 

"What is that?" Marci asked, curiosity taking over her. 

Marciella the first took in the state her daughter was in. Her smeared makeup and ruffled dress. 

"Look at you, what happened?" She asked as she reached up and lifted a strand of her hair. The frown on her face was prominent, and her flawless make up was only a reminder of how perfect her mother strived to be.

Marci stared at her in disbelief, "A lot has happened. How can you let this happen?" She whispered. 

"What am I to do? Hm?" She hummed, she turned her daughter and directed her to her bathing room. "I've directed Lea to start a bath."

"A bath in the middle of the day?" Marci asked, the idea appalling her. 

"Yes. I find it helps calm my nerves." She replied 

"Is there anything I can do to convince him otherwise?" Marci murmured.

"No. Accept you will be his wife." Marciella said, her voice firm. "The sooner you do this, the better." 

Marci frowned, refusing to say anything else. The door opened and Lea entered. Behind her, a line of servants come in after her. They each carried a bucket of steaming hot water. They fill her tub to the brim, leaving once their bucket was empty. 

Marci began to remove her dress but paused. She watched with furrowed brows as Marciella untied her pouch. She pulled out an even smaller pouch and dumped its contents into her bath water. 

"What are those?" She asked. 

"Bath salts, peaches to be exact." Marciella murmured. "Hurry and derobe." She waved back at her. 

"What are bath salts? Are you going to cook me?" Marci asked, eyes widening. 

Marciella scoffed, "Of course not, silly girl. What goes on in that head of yours?" 

Marci flushed and turned around. She untied the back of her dress as her mother continued to dump contents into her bath. 

When her dress was finally off, Marci dipped a foot into the water before going in completely. The smell of fruit invaded her nose and she hummed softly. 

"It smells good." Marci smiled.

"Good. That means it's working." Marciella smiled in return, though it was strained.

"What is working?" 

"The smell of course. Your nose too, I suppose." She chuckled. 

Marci rolled her eyes and settled further into the tub. 

"Do you often take baths like this?" Marci asked in curiosity.

"Yes." Marciella hummed. She turned away and put everything back into her pouch. 

Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder at her daughter. 

"Don't fight us on this, Marci. You will only make it worse." She said and left. 

Marci stared down at the water, her body a blurry image through it. Was she really going to be forced into this forsaken marriage? She lifted her hand and stared at her wet finger. 

He never even gave her a ring. He never even said to her out loud that she will become his wife. 

He said that she belonged to him now. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the silver and gold rings around his thick fingers. He held her father up by the neck so easily; subconsciously her hand ran down the span of her own, fingers curling over the dip where her neck met her shoulder. 

Would he be able to hold her up just as easily? 

As Marci dwelled on what her life might be like with a Vampire Husband, she was unaware of what happened outside of her bathroom door. 

Duchess Marciella sat with her legs crossed, her dress spread out on the floor before her. Her back leaned firmly against the bathing room door. She closed her eyes, hands resting on her knees. Salt from inside her pouch rustled It slithered out and slid under the door. 

Like a snake in water, the salt circles around the bathtub, as Marci remained unaware. Creating a perfect circle around her, the salt stopped moving. 

On the other side of the door, Marciella the first chanted under her breath, so soft that only she could hear.