In the Veins of the Drowning(88)
“Oh.” I blinked, feeling foolish. “Of course.” I looked to the bed, brow furrowed. “How long was I…”
“Three days.” Eyes cast down in uncomfortable reverence, the woman shook out the new chemise and stays and underclothes that had lain beneath the gown.
“I’ll wear the tunic.”
She looked up at me, puzzled. “But it’s wrapped so neatly for your travel. His Majesty was very careful in how he folded them. I believe he was eager for you to wear this gown. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
My thoughts blurred. “Was he here?” Distracted, I let her pull the sleeping gown from my shoulders and slip the chemise over my head.
“He carried you here himself yesterday morning.” She wrapped the stays around my rib cage and began lacing them. “He saw to your care the first day and a half himself. Once you stopped bleeding… that’s when he turned you over to us healers.”
“I see.” Sorrow ran through me, violent as a surge. He’d left me. I’d told him to do as much, to see to his duty, and yet I couldn’t stamp out the pain of it. I donned the underclothes and stepped into the gown. She lifted it up over my hips, then strung the bodice around me with gentle tugs.
“It’s not my place, Your Majesty,” she started, carefully, “but if it helps you to know, he did not leave you willingly.” She tightened the bodice and tucked in the ties. “Chancellor Eftan dragged him out.” I nodded, unable to discern if that news was a twisting knife or a soothing balm. “Your companion, the one with the curls, was worried sick over you as well. Even the Empress of Obelia came to your bedside last night—quite vexed over your state. And this was left for you.” She pulled a sealed envelope from her pocket and my heart lurched.
The wax cracked as I opened it. I crinkled it in my tight grip when I realized it wasn’t from Theodore.
Imogen,
A ship has been readied for you, as you requested. Please do not sink it. The Hercule is quick and small and has been fitted with a hearty crew. Each sailor is Siren-bound and will be immune to your lure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you found some way around that divine protection. You do so love denying us men our breath. A carriage will carry you to the docks when you wake. Find Chancellor Eftan so he can send for it.
I wish you a successful endeavor.
Cmdr. Lachlan Mela
The letter felt like a rough push out the door. I folded it closed. I set the ring I held on the bench and quietly slipped my boots on. Before I made to leave, I gathered the twine-wrapped clothes that Theodore had left me. “Thank you.”
“Don’t forget this!” The young healer plucked the ring. It caught and glinted in the shaft of sunlight as she handed it to me.
I stared at the warm, shining stone, and anger burst through me like a flint strike. I’d certainly not been fool enough to think that our severance would have been a clean, painless excision, but neither did I think Theodore would have been this na?ve.
He should have let me go completely. No ring, no binding gown. They were promises that he could never keep.
The healer watched me staring at the ring, and her brows rose expectantly. “Do you feel well? Is there anything else you need? Some nepenthe for any lingering pain, perhaps.”
I slipped the ring quickly onto my finger. “No.” I strode out into the hall. I’d change once I made it to my ship.
The entry hall was being decorated for a wedding. Deep blue Obelian flags hung beside Varian ones. They lined the black marble banisters and hung above lintels. It looked like a fucking garden had been planted at the base of each of the curving stairs. Vines wove through their balusters and curled around the ankles of the Great Gods’ statues. Servants darted beneath them with baskets of tapers and bundles of flowers in their arms.
Just as those vines seemed to wind through the palace with abandon, so too did a black, plaguing anger begin to creep through me.
I nearly strode past the palace’s front doors myself, perfectly capable of arranging my own carriage, when my gaze caught on Eftan. He and a woman in a servant’s uniform stood at the base of the far stairs, looking over papers and taking stock of the state of the entry hall.
When he saw me, his round face puckered. He strode toward me with short, quick steps, his widened gaze skipping over my visage, over the gown I wore, and finally, it stopped at Theodore’s ring on my finger. His thin lips curled back. “The king is a fool.”
I sucked in a tedious breath. “Hello, Chancellor.”
“You beguiled him. You tainted him.” He took me by the arm and, short man though he was, began to haul me toward the palace doors. “You have pushed this kingdom toward utter ruin, and he dresses you up like a play bride for it. Leave. Leave now, before he sees you.” I ripped my arm from his hold and nearly threw him off his balance. “He marries the princess in four days,” he spat, “and you cannot return. Not as his mistress, not as his—” He gave a violent gasp, face going from red to a deepening purple.
I cocked my head at how easily the lure had slipped from me, at how quickly my power obeyed my barest desire. It was different now, without Theodore’s bond strung through my middle. “Dear Eftan,” I crooned, as the man pawed at his throat. “I’ve come to you for a carriage. So that I may leave and never return. Will you help me?”