CHAPTER SIX
ALYSSUM
There’s a difference between knowing and knowing.
I stared beyond my reflection into the warm water enveloping me. The words had plagued my mind for the past few days, and I toyed with them. I hadn’t understood what they meant all those years ago, and perhaps I still didn’t now, but I felt closer to that truth—and many others—than I ever had.
“Are you all right?” Nora’s long fingers combed through my hair, separating a particularly stubborn knot.
“Of course,” I managed, casting a quick glance in her direction.
Baths were always a source of comfort for me, and I realized the way I gazed into the water, severe and silent, was noticeably uncharacteristic.
I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to lean against the tub and relax.
Or, at the very least, appear relaxed. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Oh?” she prompted, retrieving a comb from a small wooden table draped with teal fabric.
Nora had sewn the marigolds into it herself.
Teal and orange—just like everything else in Lunamor.
“Does this have anything to do with your vanishing trick this morning? Tilda was less than amused when you missed your lessons.”
I had been late returning from the Threshold.
Since witnessing Vicar’s crossing, I’d been stealing time whenever I could to slip beyond the wall and watch the roiling fog.
I’d thought I would never want to lay eyes on it again, but for reasons I’d yet to comprehend, I couldn’t stay away.
Despite my recent visits, I didn’t know why it captivated me so, especially when the large, empty eyes of Vacants had infiltrated my worsening nightmares.
I should have been too afraid to travel that deep into the wood after what I’d seen, and part of me was.
But another part wanted to know if I’d imagined those whispers.
Had the heat truly muddled my senses, or had the Threshold really spoken to me?
In the end, I couldn’t explain my draw to it, and luckily I hadn’t needed to; Anise was consumed with festivity preparations, and our training schedule for tomorrow would be the first since our argument.
“Perhaps if Tilda weren’t so exceptionally dull, I would have taken it upon myself to be present,” I said with the air of someone stating a well-known fact. “Besides, I have better things to do than learn some Hollow dance.”
“Do you now?”
Her tone was disbelieving, but it wouldn’t coax the truth out of me; I knew Nora’s loyalty had its limits. She may have been my personal servant and dearest friend, but ultimately she was under my father’s employ, and despite how close we’d grown over the years, I would be a fool to forget that.
“I have interests and… and duties,” I insisted.
“At last she speaks truth,” Nora teased. “And one of your duties is to acquaint yourself with Hollowmire’s customs. Imagine if you were to receive your proposal! You’d wished to spend more time with Tilda then, now wouldn’t you?”
I leaned my head back to ease her reach as the comb’s teeth raked across my scalp, sending ticklish ripples of pleasure down my neck. I sighed contentedly, further sinking into the tub so that my cold shoulders could submerge beneath the water.
“Stars willing, my proposal will continue to keep its distance.”
If my will were enough, all this talk of marriage and strategic alliance with the Hollows would have ceased long ago.
At twenty-two, I was the oldest Treaty Princess in the history of Lunamor not to have been shipped off to Hollowmire; I’d been exceedingly lucky that an illness plaguing the prince during his youth had set him back several years.
There were even rumors the king favored his second born and hesitated arranging the customary engagement in the hopes his oldest son might succumb to his sickness.
Whatever the reason, I was eternally grateful.
As lackluster as my life in Lunamor was, at least I knew what to expect.
It was the unknown that frightened me more than anything else.
The combing stopped. Candlelight danced across the embroidered privacy screens that would shield me from view should another servant enter my chambers. Against the screens, Nora’s shadow sat beside mine, unmoving.
I leaned forward, carelessly sloshing water onto the intricate ceramic tiles below. Turning to meet Nora’s eyes was fruitless, as they were downcast. I searched her features—the honey-brown curls framing her tanned face, the slight hook of her lips into a frown.
“Nora?”
“I shouldn’t say anything,” she whispered, rising from her stool and reaching for two perfumed towels. “It’s just, I assumed…”
I palmed the lip of the tub, pale blonde hair sliding into the water and haloing around my skin. I studied Nora’s gentle, rounded features, pinched with worry.
“Tell me,” I said, praying it sounded more like a request than an order.
Nora placed one towel over the water I had spilled and held another out so that I could stand while maintaining my modesty. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, a self-scolding for having spoken in the first place.
“It’s likely not worth discussing—” she started, but the look I gave her prompted a defeated sigh. “Fine. The Hollow servants have been here for a couple of days preparing their chambers for the Feast of Comets, and they informed us that Prince Rowland will be in attendance.”
I gripped the edges of the bathtub, hoisting myself up, careful to not drench the floor. I felt very far away as I accepted the towel, drying limbs that tingled.
Even the scent of winter jasmine, one of my favorites, could not dispel the pit that had replaced my stomach.
It was my turn for downcast eyes. Prince Rowland had never been well enough to make the journey from Hollowmire to Lunamor; if he was indeed attending the festival, it would make sense for the engagement to follow shortly thereafter.
“It doesn’t mean—” Nora began, but I held up a silencing palm.
“Don’t,” I said, climbing out of the tub carefully. “I know what it does and does not mean.”
I finished drying off as Nora parted the privacy screens and silently laid out my dress for supper. My world had grown heavy. How many more times would I bathe in this tub? Or have Nora steam my towels with winter jasmine?
I fisted my towel with an aching strength, a pain that brought me into the present moment. Even if Nora’s information was correct—and, quite honestly, when was it not?—this could simply be an informal meeting. Perhaps Rowland wanted nothing more than to see whether or not his future wife was a hag.
Once my feet were adequately dry, I stepped beyond the screens, deeper into my bedchamber.
The dark blue walls with ornate golden accents were some shades off from the Lunamor teal and orange, but it was one of the few choices I’d been allowed to make as a young girl.
Studying it now, I wondered if I could have made a more bold decision.
I’d thought it was a revolutionary act of rebellion at the time, but as I assessed the colors it was clear I’d made the safest choice I could while still desiring something just a bit different.
Would Rowland let me decorate more than my chambers, or was I merely exchanging one cage for another?
Nora hovered over my lavishly detailed four-poster bed, pressing her palms into beautiful teal silk. She smoothed out the fabric with palpable care and appreciation.
“Nora,” I said, holding the towel tight against my chest. “The dress is beautiful, but I have a better idea.”