Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
ALLERIA
The carriage has barely rolled to a stop before Brennan is opening the door. He gets out first, then reaches up to help me down. My legs are unsteady, and I grip his arm hard until I’m on the ground. He doesn’t comment on it.
“Your father is coming,” he murmurs.
I turn to see the king hurrying across the courtyard, at a fast walk.
Not running. Kings don’t run. But he’s moving faster than I’ve ever seen.
His face is tightly controlled, the mask he wears for court and council firmly in place.
His eyes give him away, though. They’re too bright, and when he reaches me, the mask cracks.
“Alleria.” His voice breaks on my name. “Gods, Alleria.”
He pulls me into his arms so hard it drives the air from my lungs.
Over his shoulder, I see my sister. She’s standing a few paces back, hands clasped in front of her, relief and worry on her face.
When my father finally releases me, she steps forward and hugs me.
Her embrace is gentler than his. She’s never been comfortable with overt displays of emotion.
“We thought—” She swallows. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too.”
My father keeps one hand on my shoulder as we walk inside, and I wonder if he’s afraid I might disappear again if he lets go.
Nella appears through the archway of the reception hall when we walk inside.
She takes one look at me and her face crumples.
Then she’s running toward me, propriety forgotten as she throws her arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry.” She’s crying. “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed. I should have—”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I hold her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of her. “Nella, it wasn’t your fault.”
She pulls back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Brennan sent me back. I didn’t want to go. I begged him to let me stay and help search, but he said—”
“He was right.” I squeeze her hands. “There was nothing you could have done.”
My father steps closer. “There’s a healer waiting in your chambers. I want to make sure you’re all right.”
I let Nella lead me upstairs, while my father follows.
Mistress Laela is waiting in my chambers. She’s been the royal family’s healer since before I was born. She was there at my birth, tended every childhood sickness and hurt. She’s kind and warm, and sees too much.
My father kisses my cheek when we reach the door. “I’ll wait out here. I’m sure it will be more comfortable not to have me there.”
Laela takes one look at me and opens her arms. I find myself folded against her chest a second later.
“Oh, my child.” Her hand smooths my hair. “Let me look at you.”
She cups my face, tilts it toward the light, and studies me carefully. Her thumb traces under my eyes, dark with shadows from very little sleep.
“When did you last eat or sleep properly?”
“I ate at the Dell this morning. Sleeping is … I don’t know. The days blurred together.”
“Are you hurt anywhere? Any pain?”
“No. I’m just tired.”
Her fingers move to my wrist, checking my pulse. Then she has me follow her finger with my eyes, looks at my tongue, and presses gently on the glands in my throat.
“Did it—” She pauses, clearly choosing her words. “Did the creature hurt you? In any way?”
I know what she means.
“No.” That, at least, is true. “He didn’t touch me … not like that.”
Except that one time in the inn when the guards were searching for an escaped fae.
She searches my face. I hold her gaze and don’t flinch.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Whatever she sees in my eyes satisfies her, because she nods and pats my cheek, then asks if I have any cuts or scrapes, whether the fae hit me or bound me. I answer as best I can, trying not to lie if I don’t have to, but making everything that happened sound … less … than it was.
She examines my hands and feet while I talk, then has me breathe deeply while she listens to my chest. Finally, she straightens.
“You’re such a brave girl. You always have been.” She pats my cheek. “A bath, a hot meal, and then rest.”
Nella draws me a bath while Laela helps me strip out of my clothes, no doubt checking for herself that there are no cuts or wounds that I might be hiding from her.
I curl my fingers into my palm, hiding the scar there from sight.
Once I’m chin deep into the water, and my skin is turning pink from the heat, Laela walks to the door to speak to my father.
“She’s well. Shaken, exhausted, and needs rest. But she’s unharmed. There are no injuries, no fever, and no …” Her voice drops and I can guess what she’s telling him. No signs of assault. “She was fortunate.”
I hear him let out a breath, then he replies in a voice just as low.
“Thank you, Laela.” His voice rises. “Take your time, Alleria. When you’re ready, come to my study.
I’d like to hear your account of what happened.
Wil has already reported what he knows, and I’ll speak to Brennan while you bathe. ”
“Yes, Father.”
The door closes, then it’s just me and Nella. She perches on a stool beside the tub and reaches for the soap.
“Let me.”
I lean forward and she works the lather through my hair, her fingers gentle.
Even though I bathed at the Dell, the water still clouds with dirt.
She rinses and washes it again until it runs clear.
Then she takes a cloth and washes the rest of me.
Neither of us speak, and my eyes start to close as my body relaxes for the first time in days under her gentle touch.
When the water starts to cool, she helps me out and wraps me in a towel.
I sit in front of the dresser while she combs through the tangles in my hair, working patiently until it lies damp and smooth down my back.
Then she helps me into fresh underclothes, a clean shift, and a simple gown of soft gray wool.
“I should go and see my father.” At my words, Nella finds my fleece-lined indoor slippers, and slides them onto my feet.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. “No. You have done enough.” I kiss her cheek. “Go and rest yourself. You look like you need it.”
My father’s study is at the end of the east corridor. I’ve been summoned here hundreds of times. For lectures, for lessons, for quiet conversations about the behavior expected of a king’s daughter. I take a breath before I knock at the heavy oak door.
“Come in.”
He’s standing by the window, silhouetted against the afternoon light. When he turns to face me, it’s not as my father, but as the king of the realm.
“Tell me what happened.”
I’ve practiced this in my head. Over and over on the journey back.
“The hunt went wrong. My horse bolted, and I got separated from the others. The fae found me before they did.” I keep my voice steady. “It took me, and dragged me through the forest. I don’t know how long. Days? It felt like forever.”
“Laela said she could find no marks, but tell me the truth, Alleria. Did it hurt you?”
Yes. He broke my ribs. He choked me. He cut my palm open and licked the blood. He made me feel things I should never have felt for him.
“Some bruises, that’s all. Nothing serious enough to have lasted more than a day or two.”
“How did you escape?”
“It was distracted. I don’t know by what. I just ran.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “I didn’t look back. I kept running and hiding until I found the road. Then I walked until the Dell’s men found me.”
He crosses to me and takes my hands in his. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters. You’re home.”
I nod, because I don’t dare speak. I have so many things I want to say, to demand, but now isn’t the time.
“Will you join us for dinner, or would you prefer to eat in your room this evening?”
“I’ll join you. If I hide in my room, everyone will talk.”
He nods, and offers me his arm, and we walk along the hallway to the great hall.
I sit at the high table on my father’s right, with Merina on his left. I smile, and nod, and say all the things I’m supposed to say. People approach in a steady stream—lords and ladies expressing relief, and asking questions that skirt around what they really want to know. I answer them all.
Yes, I’m glad to be home. No, I wasn’t seriously hurt. Yes, the Dell’s men found me. No, I don’t really want to talk about it.
The meal is venison with rosemary. A welcome home meal. I cut it into small pieces and move them around my plate, forcing down a bite every time I feel my father’s eyes on me.
At the far end of the hall, a table erupts in laughter. I look over to where Lord Vessen is holding court, goblet raised, face flushed with wine. He’s in the middle of a story, his free hand gesturing broadly, his voice carrying across the room.
“—should have seen the look on its face when I cornered it. Like it almost understood what was happening. Sixteen points on that rack. Finest trophy I ever took.”
More laughter. Someone raises a toast.
“And when I put the spear in, it pissed itself and squealed like a pig!” Vessen slaps the table, roaring with laughter.
My chair scrapes back, and the sound cuts through the noise of the hall. I’m on my feet and moving, before I even think about it. Heads turn, conversations dying.
“Alleria?” My father’s voice is questioning.
I don’t answer. I’m already walking, crossing the hall toward Vessen’s table. The crowd parts for me.
Vessen sees me coming, and rises to his feet. “Lady Alleria.” He gives me a half-bow. “I’m so pleased to see you safely—”
“What would you do?”
He blinks. “About what, my lady?”
“If someone gutted you while you were unarmed, if someone locked a collar around your throat and forced bone through your skull until you couldn’t hold your head straight.
” I barely recognize my voice as my own, it’s so soft and cold.
“If someone released you into a forest you couldn’t escape, then drove a spear through your stomach when you were cornered and bleeding.
” My head tilts slightly. “Would you squeal like a pig, Lord Vessen?”