CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
GRACEN
“You are drunk, little one.” I chuckle as my nipple slips free of Suri’s mouth, her eyes rolled back in her head as she drifts off, sated. I place her into her basket to sleep and set to washing my skin at the basin with a cloth and soap. The smell of sour milk—however faint—always curls my stomach.
A gentle knock sounds on my door as I’ve just finished up. “Come in,” I call out, expecting one of the staff girls or Corrin.
I turn to find Kazimir standing in my doorway, his attention locked on where my fingers work at my buttons.
After a moment of stupor, he clears his throat, drops his gaze to study his boots.
“Why are you here?” My cheeks blaze as I quickly finish.
“Why else? The king wants you.”
“Excuse me?”
Kazimir’s lips curl with a devious smile. “He wants you to be tested.”
“Tested. How?”
The smile slips off. “You follow the king’s orders. You don’t question them.”
“Of course. I wasn’t questioning him. I just …” I let my excuses fade.
“Bring the baby. Where are your other children?” He looks around as if they’re hiding somewhere in our tiny room.
“In the cellar, helping sort for the winter.” With trepidation, I collect the basket and follow Kazimir out.
“I wish I could sleep like that.”
“I’m sure you did once, long ago.”
I feel his gaze on me, but I ignore it, my cheeks burning again at the thought of what he saw of me. Kazimir is attractive, there’s no denying that. But if I’m going to pine secretly for any Islorian male, it’s not him.
A guard stands in front of the servant dining hall.
“These two,” Kazimir announces, and the guard opens the door. “Go on.” Kazimir goads me forward.
Sitting at one of the long tables is a face I was not expecting to see ever again.
“Priestess!” I exclaim, a mixture of relief and shock mixed in with my voice.
She smiles. A sad one, but it seems genuine. “The baker with the little boy whose hand was burned. I’m so glad to know that you and your baby are safe.”
I move in and take the seat she pats next to her.
“What was your name again?”
“Gracen.”
“That’s right.” She’s so much thinner than the day I saw her in the sanctum, her cheeks hollowed, her skin pale. And her hand … it’s wrapped in bandages. She seems nervous.
“Are you well?”
“Much better now, thank you for asking. And who is this beautiful new child?”
“Her name is Suri.”
“Lovely choice.” She tips her head to regard Suri’s still form, an odd peace passing over her.
“You have much work to do, Priestess,” Kazimir stands at the door, waiting.
“Yes. Of course. Your hand?” She holds hers out, palm up.
I slide mine into it.
“You must remain still for me, please. This will sting a little but only for a moment.” She holds her injured hand over mine and closes her eyes.
Heat seers into my flesh, my jaw clenching from the burn. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“There.” She releases my hand. “Now you are marked.”
A dull brown symbol fills the fleshy part of my thumb—a circle with two interlocked crescent moons. I’d heard about this. “Wait, does this mean—” Panic stirs inside me as I look from it to her. “Have I been—”
“No.” She smiles reassuringly. “But if you were to be infected, it would glow and that would serve as a warning not to take your vein.”
My shoulders sink.
“Do the baby too,” Kazimir says. “You said your other two were in the cellars?”
“Yes.”
A frown flitters across her face. “I hate to wake a sleeping baby.”
And she certainly will. “Wait. Can she mark the other two first? Suri will be screaming after this, and if they see that … It will make things easier for all of us if they go first.”
Kazimir sighs heavily. “Wait here.” He ducks out, sending the guard in to watch over us. As if a baker, a newborn, and a tortured priestess are intent to conspire.
A tense energy lingers in the room.
Wendeline swallows. “How was the childbirth?”
“How it always is. Difficult.”
“I cannot imagine. Will you allow me to offer you aid?” She reaches out but then freezes, checking for my reaction. “Only if you would like it.”