“I’m not! Truly! And her message didn’t sound like that. It was about prophecy.”
“It will not look like nothing to the king, and certainly not to Boaz.” She shakes her head, tucking the gold coin in her pocket. “I will keep this for now. I do not want you caught with it.”
“But it is obvious that Her Highness does not mean the king harm.”
“Is it?”
“She saved him! Why else would she do that? Maybe if Atticus knew it was Romeria—”
A knock sounds on the door, making us both jump.
“He is stirring,” Kazimir says from the other side of the door. “He will need you shortly.”
“Just dressing!” I call out, my voice strained.
Corrin rushes to fetch the robe made of the same silky material. “You listen to me.” Her words are barely audible as she slides it over my shoulders. “We are mortals. We survive because we do not get involved in the affairs of kings and queens and their battles for power. Besides, do not assume you know her motivations. Maybe she wants Atticus alive so he can see Zander take back his throne. Or perhaps Zander wishes to deliver the killing strike.”
I hadn’t thought of those scenarios. But would she scheme with such calculation? “She told me to keep the mortal children safe for her. It sounded like she would be coming back for them.”
“See? Who knows what she has planned, but I imagine it has to do with reclaiming the throne. She always was a cunning one. Both versions of her.” Corrin shakes her head. “But, Gracen, if not for your sake, then for your children’s, do not choose sides and do not get involved. Give the king what he needs and nothing more.”
I nod, swallowing the guilt and fear that swirls inside me, knowing that I now hold secrets he may consider treasonous.
But I would never do anything to harm him. He must know that.
Corrin pushes the door open and lifts her chin. “Since when do captains hover outside bathing chamber doors? Is that not beneath you?” she asks crisply with that hint of arrogance. I don’t know where she digs it up from. Sometimes I wish I had it in me.
Kazimir is already moving for the terrace. “Come. This way is faster.”
“I shall take the baby down with me. I doubt she will stir again tonight.” Corrin moves for the settee, where Suri sleeps soundly in her basket, a fire crackling in the hearth nearby.
I pause long enough to wonder when I tell my daughter one day that she slept in the queen of Islor’s chambers, will she believe me? “Thank you.” I read one last stark warning in Corrin’s steady gaze before I follow Kazimir out.
The cold air bites at my skin as we move along a narrow passage that connects the queen’s and king’s terraces.
Kazimir steals a look at my ensemble, and I do my best not to shrink under the attention. I’ve been leered at by males, but this appraisal feels different. Appreciative. “Do you approve now?”
“Of the absence of urine and vomit? Yes.” He chuckles. “Though I think I miss the perpetual streak of flour on your cheek.”
“We could detour to the kitchen and fix that for you.”
“And fool myself into believing it is me you are dressing for?” He winks before opening the door. His mood is much lighter than before. He’s buoyed by relief for not just his king but his friend. “After you.”
I enter Atticus’s bedchamber as a guard is lifting an unconscious Wendeline in his arms, her limbs dangling helplessly.
Panic flares inside me. “Is she okay?”
“Wendeline is a lot tougher than she looks,” Atticus croaks as a servant I’ve seen but never spoken to smooths a washcloth over his bloodied chest. Another carries a second basin of fresh water. “She will be fine in the morning.”
Romeria’s message will have to wait until then.
My joy to see Atticus conscious again pushes aside all other thoughts. He’s still sickly pale, his lips tinged blue. But when his eyes roll over me, taking in my silk gown and robe, my stomach flips.
“Leave us,” he commands softly.
The servants move instantly, collecting the basin of dirty water and scurrying out. It’s as if they were waiting for the command and can’t get away fast enough. How any of them can fear him so is beyond me.
And yet you feared him once too, I remind myself. Or at least, I feared his immense power.
“Here, let me continue that.” I round the bed to his side and settle onto the edge, collecting a clean cloth from the stack and dipping it into the basin left behind. The water is still warm. I smooth it over his torso, uncovering taut muscle and golden skin with each stroke. “You bled a lot.”