39. Tempest
39
TEMPEST
I wasn’t sure what to think about . . . everything.
Because dwelling on it would do me no good, I decided to let go of the things I couldn’t change and focus on those where I might be able to make a difference.
When I woke later, Vexxion had left, though a black and silver rose lay on his pillow. His token of love couldn’t be more welcome. I lay in bed, taking in the shadowy scent of the flower, remembering how we’d talked about the beauty of the blossom and how roses could either be simple and sweet-smelling, or gorgeous like this one but only hold a hint of their beautiful scent.
He still hadn’t shown me where he found these roses, though I doubted they came from around here. Nothing this pure could thrive in such a wretched place.
I tucked the blossom into the vase on the bedside table and slipped from beneath the covers, padding to the bathing area where I found a steaming tub and lit candles waiting. I’d never grow tired of my fae lord’s pampering. Just like I’d never grow tired of loving him.
A red dress lay on the chair nearby, and I laughed when I saw it. What would Delaine think of me copying her favorite color?
My bones hummed from his touch. This man may insist I tell him I belonged to him completely, but he showed me in every way possible that he belonged to me . I needed to remember that and take comfort from it as much as I could.
Were the images I saw when I touched the bones lies? Triisa and her sisters were grateful for my help, but that didn’t mean they weren’t above twisting their gifts. They were pixies after all.
Vexxion did not love Brenna. Nothing would ever convince me of that. And Brenna was afraid of the king’s controller. If she harbored even a hint of affection for Vexxion, she would’ve revealed it by now.
Instead, it appeared she was in love with Zayde. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, would come of that. If they were wise, they’d avoid each other.
I bathed and dressed and went to Brenna’s suite to help her get ready for breakfast, meeting up with dull-eyed Reyla and sharp-eyed Delaine as I was stepping inside the living area.
Delaine shoved past me. Nothing new there.
Reyla floated behind me. Nothing new there either.
Finding Brenna awake and sitting up in her bed, we readied her bath and helped her select a gown for the morning meal.
“You must be excited, my queen,” Delaine gushed .
Brenna squinted up at her as we stood beside the tub, helping her out of her gown. “Why?”
Delaine sucked in a breath of dismay. “You’re marrying the king tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes that.” Brenna’s lips thinned. When she held out her hand for help into the tub, I studied the tiny mark on her wrist, a thin circle with spokes like a wheel. She sunk beneath the scented water.
Reyla handed her the soap.
“We help her wash.” Delaine smacked Reyla’s arm and plucked the soap from Brenna’s hand, shoving Reyla to the side. “Allow me to wash your back, my queen.”
“Don’t be mean to the poor woman, Delaine,” Brenna said in a tired voice. “I’m sure she tries. She’s just not as quick-witted as you.”
Delaine rolled her eyes. “I’ll say,” she muttered under her breath.
“Leave Reyla alone,” I growled.
Drask flapped his wings and cawed.
“That bird’s dirty. It shouldn’t be here,” Delaine spat. “It should’ve died.”
Sometimes, I wish Delaine would die. I took Reyla’s hand and drew her around to my other side, putting myself between them. “Ignore my bird. He bathes more often than you.”
A muffled snort rang out, but when I looked her way, Reyla stared at the floor, her hands limp at her sides.
“No one is helping me bathe,” Brenna said with a huff. “I’m sitting in water that is growing cold while you three squabble. If you don’t help me immediately, I’ll dismiss you all permanently and tell the king to send new ladies.”
There were no ladies to offer unless she was interested in tapping the stable hands for staff—which she might be. Why hadn’t she brought her own staff with her? Oh, yes. If a Nullen wasn’t collared, they’d be hunted as long as they remained in faerie.
Delaine shot me a look of pure spite and stooped down beside Brenna. “I’m here, my queen. Allow me to help.”
“Yes, yes, I’m allowing it,” Brenna drawled. “That’s why I asked you to do this, if you’ll dutifully remember.”
I bit my lips to keep them from rising into a smile. It might be petty of me, but I enjoyed seeing Delaine chastised every now and then. It was long overdue.
When Brenna was finished, we helped her out of the tub. Reyla released the water while Delaine and I dried Brenna with warmed towels and assisted her in donning her gown, a yellow, lacy concoction she adored. She was as fluffy as her gown, a product of her lush palace life. I held no jealousy toward her in that regard. I was dumped at the fortress, but at least I’d grown up knowing I had worth beyond who my father might force me to marry.
While she sat in a chair, I did her make-up, something I never thought I’d ever learn how to do, while Delaine arranged Brenna’s hair. Reyla stood limply nearby, staring at the wall.
When Brenna was ready, she rose and stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying her image. “Well done, ladies. Well done. He’ll think I’m beautiful today.”
“The king will adore you as always,” Delaine said .
“Yes, the king. Ivenrail will note my appearance.” With a sigh, Brenna turned from the mirror and strode over to stand near the window to take in the view of the vast plain stretching all the way to Riftflame territory. Sunlight brought out the golden threads in her dark hair. She really was pretty. If I was her, I’d dress in simpler styles that would highlight my appearance, not distract from it.
That was how Vexxion dressed me.
Brenna rubbed her wrist.
The air hissed out of Delaine, and she scurred over to stand beside Brenna. “If I may, my lady.” She held out her hand.
Frowning, Brenna laid it in Delaine’s, who lifted her arm and examined it in the light.
“When did this appear?” Delaine asked in wonder.
Pretending interest in the view, I joined them, though my focus remained on Brenna’s wrist.
“I noticed the mark a few days ago.” Brenna rubbed it. “I tried to wash it off, but it remains.” She held her arm out to me, twisting it up to show the mark in full light. “You saw it.”
I nodded.
“It was itchy at first but now it isn’t,” Brenna said. “Perhaps something bit me. Why do you think it appeared?”
I knew why, and I had no idea what I could do about it.
Brenna was displaying the mark that identified her as Vexxion’s fated mate.