Chapter 34 Odessa
Thirty-Four
Odessa
“Odessa,” Ransom murmured as we walked down a long hallway in the castle’s west wing. “Say something.”
I shook my head, clamping my teeth and lips shut tight.
If I opened my mouth, a string of expletives would come out. And at the moment, I was working very hard to keep my composure so that the stewards leading us to a suite wouldn’t leave us to tell the rest of the castle that Princess Odessa had returned and lost her mind.
The plush carpets muffled our footsteps. The hall smelled like jasmine and white tea.
The Mavins walked beside us. Jodhi took in the portraits displayed on the walls and statues featured in various alcoves, but Thora looked ahead and only ahead as we passed door after door.
The three stewards leading us down the corridor parted, one moving to a room on the left, another to the right, and the third at the end of the hall.
“Madam.” The steward on the left waved Thora inside her room.
She walked through the door, and when he stepped to follow her inside, she slammed it in his face.
Jodhi chuckled. “Goodbyes aren’t really Thora’s style.”
He went with the second steward to his own suite, pausing outside the door. He winked at Evie, then lifted his gaze, holding mine long enough that Ransom inched closer. “It’s been an adventure. Good hunting, doll.”
“To bloody blades,” I murmured.
“Thank you,” Ransom said. “For keeping them alive.”
“No thanks needed. Just a thousand zillahs.” He smirked, then walked into his room and, like Thora, closed it before the steward could finish his job as escort.
We hadn’t been with them for long, but I’d miss the company of the Mavins. Hard and cold as they were, they had kept us safe. Now our agreement was done.
Father would pay them, and by dawn, I suspected they’d be riding away from Roslo.
I hoped that someday, the journal entry about Thora would come true. That she’d find her freedom. And maybe someday, she’d meet her aunt Cathlin.
“This way, Highness.” All three stewards escorted us to the suite at the end of the hall and waved us inside. The lanterns in the receiving room were lit. They’d brought in a vase of fresh flowers for the round table in the center of the space.
We trailed behind the stewards as they led us through the short entryway and into a large parlor filled with cozy chairs, sofas, and chaise longues.
The space was lit by candelabras, and the sheer white curtains over the floor-to-ceiling windows were drawn.
A spread of cured meats, hard cheeses, and dried fruits was laid out on the rectangular dining table.
There was a mirror of this suite in the east wing of the castle on the fourth floor. My sister Mae’s suite. It was the suite beside mine.
But Father hadn’t sent us to my former suite in the east wing. He hadn’t put us in the wing of the castle where his family lived. He hadn’t even sent us to the southeast wing, where visiting royalty stayed.
No, he’d sent us to the west end of the castle, where he typically tucked away guests he wanted to avoid.
Two lady’s maids, both dressed in plain tan dresses with white aprons, emerged from one of the rooms off the parlor. One was a blonde. The other a brunette. It was so eerily similar to my former maids, Brielle and Jocelyn, that my chest pinched.
But I didn’t recognize either of these women. Maybe they’d been hired after Brielle and Jocelyn left with me for Turah.
“My saddlebags?” Ransom asked a steward.
“We’ve stowed them in the closet along with fresh clothes, sir.”
“Highness,” I corrected through gritted teeth. A title my father should have acknowledged. “You will address him as Highness. He is the crown prince of Turah.”
“Of course.” All three stewards spoke in unison as they offered apologetic bows.
“You may go,” I said.
“We’ve drawn you a bath, Highness, and laid out nightclothes,” a lady’s maid said, her voice timid and soft.
“Thank you.” Hopefully the water was lukewarm, because I was raging hot after that reunion with Father. Maybe tepid water would cool my temper.
“Go.” Ransom urged me forward. “I’ve got Evie.”
I lifted Faze’s carrier off my shoulder and set him on the floor to squirm free.
Faze, still miffed about the crate and leash, let out a rawr.
A collective gasp rang out as the stewards shied away. The blond maid gave a tiny scream before she pushed the brunette in front of her, using her body as a human shield.
I’d wager we’d have at least one new maid by morning.
“Everyone, meet Faze.”
I emerged from the bathing chamber clean and slightly less angry.
Evie and Ransom had sampled the snacks, and the splash of water drew me to the other bedroom’s bathing chamber, where Evie was in the tub and Ransom was toweling off an angry wet tarkin.
There was a fresh scratch on Ranse’s hand that was already knitting itself closed.
“Dess, watch me.” Evie went to one side of the copper tub and launched herself to the other, the distance three times the length of her body.
“Nice. Did you wash your hair?”
She nodded, plugged her nose, bulged out her cheeks, and plunged under the water.
Ransom finished toweling off Faze and let him go. “There, little monster. You’re free.”
Faze shook out the water, then bounded straight to my legs, rubbing against my bare ankles, making sure he had my attention and that I knew he’d been forced into the bath against his will.
Ransom crossed the room and stopped in front of me, twirling a wet curl around his finger as he took in my teal satin nightgown. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were still silver.
It was the longest I’d ever seen them that color.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded to the door. “Your turn. I’ll finish up with her.”
He dropped a kiss to my forehead, then slipped out of the room. Maybe after his own bath his irises would shift back to green.
It didn’t take long to finish Evie’s bath and tuck her into bed.
When she was snuggled under a pile of blankets with her stuffed rabbit, Merry, on one side and Faze on the other, I turned off the lamps and slipped from the room, ignoring the food as I put out the lanterns in the parlor, bathing the suite in darkness.
I found Ransom in our bedroom, standing at the windows. His hair was wet and combed. A white towel was wrapped around his waist. He’d peeled away the curtains to stare out over Roslo, the city’s lights dwindling as the moons rose higher toward the stars and shades.
And in his hands was his circlet.
He didn’t turn away from the glass as I approached but stretched out an arm to tuck me against his side.
I sagged against him, and as the last remains of my frustration vanished, I kind of wanted to cry.
Tonight wasn’t the first time Father had ignored me. But tonight was different. Tonight, it felt intentional, like he’d wanted to hurt me. I’d traveled so far, I’d changed so much, and he’d barely been able to look at me.
Was this my punishment for failing as his spy and assassin?
He’d asked me to kill the Guardian. An impossible task, considering Ransom and I were bound by a blood oath and forbidden to cause the other harm. Not that I’d ever hurt him, blood oath or not.
I’d explained the ruse to Father, informing him that Ransom was not only the Guardian but also my husband and the crown prince. I’d hoped for a sliver of understanding, maybe a question or two in return.
Instead, he’d dismissed us moments later, not giving us a chance to talk about the crux scout or ask if there’d been any message from Cathlin.
“He didn’t seem shocked,” I said. “When I told him who you are.”
“No.”
“Do you think he already knew?”
Ransom sighed. “I doubt it. I think your father has spent a lifetime masking any emotion.”
Or maybe there was simply no emotion to show. I was beginning to think I’d imagined his initial reaction. The joy that had lit up his face. Maybe he’d been drunk, too.
“Who’s worse? Your father? Or mine?” I teased.
“Mine,” he muttered. “No question.”
Ramsey was infecting men recruited to his militia with Lyssa. Or a version of Lyssa. He was trying, and failing, to recreate the Guardian in the hopes the Turans would have a fighting chance during the migration.
Instead, the infection was killing his men, burning them from the inside out.
Maybe now he’d stop, since it was too late.
“The nobility should be preparing for the migration, bringing people in from the countryside, not enjoying parties. My father must not know about the scout.”
Fucking Turans and their fucking secrets. Jodhi’s voice echoed in my mind.
“Ramsey hasn’t told anyone.”
“No.” Ransom’s jaw clenched. “He must not have sent the pony riders beyond Turah.”
Those riders who normally took letters and missives would tell the Turan people. But if they’d been commanded to stay within Ramsey’s kingdom, then there were so many innocent people who’d be left to suffer.
Word would spread eventually. Any traveler visiting Westor or Perris would notice that the Turans were taking shelter. But that would require time. Time the kingdoms didn’t have.
Too many would be taken by surprise and slaughtered.
All while Ramsey was hiding in Allesaria. He’d be safe in his secret capital, and when the migration was over, the amount of damage done would be anyone’s guess.
The migration normally came in the spring. Were the fall harvests completed? Had people stockpiled their food? They’d need it for both the migration and the coming winter.
“I thought coming here would be safe, but…” After my father’s chilly welcome, I was questioning that choice.
“There’s nothing that can be done tonight. In the morning, I’ll meet with your father. And if we must, we’ll go back.”
My jaw dropped. “Before the migration? There’s no time.”
“There might be.” He stared down at the circlet, his eyebrows furrowed. “We might have more time. The scout was…”
I waited for him to finish. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” I knew that nothing. “What aren’t you telling me?”