Free Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1) by Kaitlyn Davis Page A

that I am trapped here following the queen's orders. I will not give myself a way out of the choice I've made.
    I'm also distracted by Maddy herself. By the kindness in her tone, the way our arms intertwine as though we're connected, by the openness with which she speaks. Affection has never been a strong part of my life, at least since the earthquake. I've forgotten what companionship might feel like, but listening to her speak, a memory resurges just out of reach.
    "Here we are."
    The two of us stop just before a door, which Maddy pulls open before guiding me inside. Curtains line the walls. Water rushes out of sight. Steam seeps up through slits in the ceiling. The light here is yellow, bright, and I realize we are close to the surface. Above my head are grates, barring any exit, but still, I can just make out the sun. My breath comes easier. After so many years on the wall, so many years of candles and firelight, I am relieved to escape the dim blue lights of the rebel base.
    "Welcome to the girl's shower room." Maddy keeps walking in deeper and I follow. "There's only one because it took forever for people to figure out the plumbing, cause we needed to loop an internal system without using any drinkable water up. But, I mean, it works and we still get to shower once a week, so it's okay. Some of the adults remember the good old days, back before the earthquake, but once you get used to it, it feels pretty normal. And you've been to the toilets, I mean, I hope you have. We have a few of those, but that plumbing system is totally different and way closer to your part of the compound."
    "Once a week?" The question slips out before I can stop it. Her tone sounded dismissive, but once a week sounds wonderful. I am used to cold baths and infrequent ones at that.
    "Ugh, I know, but it's not that bad."
    I nod, hiding the grin from my face, itching to test the showers. Water falls from spouts in the wall, if I remember correctly. I've seen them during scavenging trips, in every apartment, but we never tried to make them work.
    "Go ahead, I'll be back in a little while. We're only supposed to use the showers for like ten minutes, but I won't tell."
    As though we are conspiring to hide a great secret, she waves goodbye, but the silence is welcome, and I pause for a minute, staring at the wall of curtains before me. One is likely no better than the other, so I just select at random, pulling a blue panel to the side before stepping in.
    Like I suspected, a shiny nozzle is attached to the ceiling and below it a handle. On the opposite wall there is a hook waiting empty, and another holding soaps of different varieties.
    My clothes are quickly abandoned and left on the floor. Dirty from the days of travel on the road. Smelly from my own sweat. I am happy to let the uniform fall away. Stains discolor my skin, so, almost urgently, I turn the knob.
    Water slaps my face and I step back, caught off guard by the cold as a yelp escapes my lips. The water numbs like shards of ice, prickling my skin, but in the small space, there is nowhere to escape, so I wait as the onslaught continues. This water is no different from what we use at home, only it sprays at me and does not sit idle in a tub.
    Then suddenly, it warms. Grows hotter still until steam filters up before my eyes. I sigh, standing below the steady stream as my muscles relax, running my hands through the knots in my hair, bringing my face as close to the spout as I possibly can.
    This is amazing.
    A smile presses into my lips and I laugh, heart bubbling like it did with the light switch, somehow buoyant.
    I grab the soap, rubbing my hands over my skin until I am coated in white bubbles. The smell of flowers infiltrates my nose, sweet, lemony too. And then, under the water, the suds simply fall away, leaving behind a cleanliness I have never known. We had soap back home, but it never left the skin, and I would emerge from my tub feeling oily, shaking with shivers, dreading the next time