“A hundred, give or take a few.”
Irritation pricked at me as my gaze swept over the smooth stone fa?ade of the fortress. Why was Casteel just now telling me this instead of when he first spoke of the land and the population issue in Atlantia? Or at any point after that? Better yet, why was I irritated that he hadn’t? Was this information even necessary for me to know? Probably not, but it still…frustrated me.
The young Atlantian reappeared, carrying a bundle. “Alastir said that you may be in need of clothing, and we were able to gather some items. I don’t know if any of this will be helpful, but it’s clean, and I’m sure we’ll be able to get you more in the morning.”
I took the light bundle. “I’m sure it will be of use. Thank you.”
Quentyn beamed before pivoting on his heel. Kieran lingered back as we followed the Atlantian through the covered walkway. He chattered, telling us about the wildlife he’d seen as we passed several dark rooms and then continued around the side of the fortress where it was evident that no rooms were near. He swore he saw a cave cat, even though Alastir told him that there were none still alive in this area.
The first thing I saw was a terrace. Wind caught the pinned curtains, causing the material to snap softly. As Quentyn unlocked the door, I was able to make out a chaise lounge at one end, and several low-to-the-floor chairs.
Quentyn handed the key over to Casteel and then opened the door. “Alastir made sure the room was aired out and a fire lit since the nights get kind of cold here.”
A lamp turned on, casting light throughout the spacious, private living quarters outfitted with plush couches and a dining table.
“There are pitchers of fresh water by the fireplace.” Quentyn opened another set of doors, and I caught the scent of lemon and vanilla.
If the living area had been a surprise, the bedchamber was an utter shock. The fireplace sat in the corner, and as Quentyn indicated, several pitchers sat on the floor before it. In the center of the room was a canopied four-poster bed with gauzy white curtains. Across from it were double lattice doors that appeared to lead out to another terrace. On the other side was an entryway to a bathing chamber. All I could do was stare.
“If either of you would like, I can get more water for the bath,” Quentyn offered.
Casteel looked to me, and I shook my head. It was far too late for all that work. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
“If you’re sure.” When I nodded, Quentyn added, “I cannot wait to have a shower where the only thing I have to do is turn a knob.”
“Shower?”
Casteel shot me a half-grin. “Instead of sitting in the bath, you stand. The clean water comes from the ceiling. It’s much like standing in a rain shower—a warm one.”
I stared at him.
A dimple appeared in his cheek as he turned to the other Atlantian. “She doesn’t believe that we have running hot water in Atlantia.”
Quentyn’s eyes grew to the size of small saucers. “He speaks the truth. I always took it for granted. I will never do that again.”
Marveling over the concept of a standing bath that felt like a warm rain shower, I didn’t even realize that Quentyn had left until Casteel spoke.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, placing our bags at the foot of the bed.
I shook my head, having filled up on the baked bars and nuts Casteel had brought with us. “I can’t believe these rooms.” I touched one of the curtains on the bed. “They’re beautiful.”
“My father would stay in this one or the other room that faces the Bay when he traveled to Spessa’s End. Both rooms have been updated as much as possible.”
I turned back to him. “I expected rooms with the bare necessities.”
“We eventually plan to fix up the rooms on the second floor. That will allow for more to stay here while the homes are either being repaired or rebuilt.” His gaze roamed over me. “I want to check your arm.”
“It doesn’t even hurt,” I told him, placing the small bundle of clothing on a settee that sat in the corner near the bed.
“Be that as it may, I would still like to see it.”
Knowing that he wouldn’t let it go, I unhooked my cloak and hung it on a hook near the fireplace and then pulled up the sleeve of my sweater tunic. I started to tug at the knot, wondering if he’d tied it in a manner that required scissors to remove.
“Let me.” He approached me as silently as always. His fingers were warm as they grazed my skin. He had the knot untied in a heartbeat. The bandage slipped away, revealing a thin slash that had stopped bleeding some time ago. His thumb slid over the skin near the wound. “This doesn’t hurt?”