Chapter Eleven Samira #2
I stared. Her yellow eyes were unguarded, and her smile lacked malice. But Keir’s gaze over her shoulder seemed to promise the opposite.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Velka glanced at him over her shoulder. “You mind?”
Keir huffed in annoyance and shut the door.
Velka just rolled her eyes. “Ignore him.” Then she held out her offering again, the blue tattoos decorating her knuckles and disappearing up the sleeves of her tunic almost shimmering in the firelight. “I know you’re not a fan of fish,” she said, “so I brought pork. And kefir, of course.”
“Kuh-feer?” I repeated awkwardly.
She paused. “Do you not have it in Ashorah?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Well, you’re going to love it. Fermented goat’s milk.” I blinked. That must be what they’d been gulping down on the trip here. Velka gestured to the bed. “I’ll set it down there?”
I nodded.
“Not much of a talker, eh?” Velka crossed the room and placed the plate and cup at the foot of the bed. “Bit refreshing, honestly. The boys out there never shut up.” At my silence, her smile turned crooked. “That was a joke.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I’m Velka, by the way. I never really introduced myself. Velka of the Pillars.”
“The Pillars?”
“A town by the mountains far west of here.”
“Oh.” I wondered if my queen would’ve known where the Pillars was. She probably did. She’d probably been taught the world’s geography.
But Velka either didn’t notice or didn’t care about my lack of knowledge. She pointed to the food again. “Do you like pork, Your Majesty?”
I didn’t know if I liked pork, but I nodded. Velka waited expectantly. Hesitantly, I reached out and picked up a piece, sniffed it, and laid it experimentally on my tongue. Somehow sweet and savory, with a hint of a spice I couldn’t name that gave it a little bit of a kick.
Gods, it was the greatest thing I’d ever tasted.
My stomach rumbled violently, like it suddenly remembered how hungry it was.
But I stalled. It felt wrong. Like when I’d debated eating my queen’s bread. This meal wasn’t meant for me. I ate what Chef Nena got back from the stable hands. Not well-seasoned pork. This was my queen’s meal.
But I was so hungry. And I was supposed to be Queen Amunet. This was what Queen Amunet ate, so…
Another grumble from my stomach and I couldn’t stop my hand from shooting out and grabbing another piece, this one bigger, and shoving it into my mouth. A moan snuck past my lips.
Velka chuckled. “Good?”
My cheeks heated.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Velka said, hands up.
“No judgment here. Eat however you like. There’s soap on that table there, and the bath should already be hot, so help yourself.
Be warned, it’s seawater. I know you Ashorans have fresh water, but this is all we’re able to scrounge up here.
Towels and clothes are next to the soap, and Keir is just outside.
If you need anything, tell him to get me.
And don’t let him scare you. He’s really just a big cuddly bear. ”
A growl sounded from outside.
“You heard me,” Velka replied without raising her voice. As if he were in the room with us. I glanced between her and the door. “Can… can he hear you?”
“Oh yeah. All of a Shifter’s abilities are heightened.” At the look on my face, she quickly added, “But we can choose not to use them. For privacy. Right, Keir?”
No response.
Velka snorted. “Bastard.”
I studied her. She’d forgone the fur cloak that most of the Kaldfolk wore, and was dressed simply in a deep blue tunic. Blue tattoos covered her hands. She didn’t seem like it, but… “Are you a servant?”
“Rade doesn’t have servants,” she said. “He used to, but after the Shroud—well, we can’t really afford that sort of labor anymore.”
“The Shroud?”
“You… don’t know about the Shroud?” She waved a hand. “I’m sure the king will tell you all about it in the morning. But if you want someone to attend to you, I can send for—”
“No!” Someone who would dress or bathe me would see the scars on my back, not fit for a queen. I schooled my features into a look of exhaustion and repeated more calmly, “No, that’s all right. I’ll probably just eat and go to bed.”
Velka smiled and bowed at the waist. “Sleep well, Your Majesty.” She turned for the door and waited expectantly. When nothing happened, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Keir.”
The door opened and Keir snarled in her face, a look so fearsome I took a few steps back.
Velka just snarled in return, her face equally as terrifying, before flipping her braid over her shoulder and strutting away. This time, Keir didn’t even look at me before shutting the door and locking it.
Once again on my own, my stomach growled. There was no more hesitation; I devoured the meal. Even the kefir—though it burned the back of my throat and sent me hacking—was a blessing. I gulped it down almost as fast as I inhaled the pork.
After the meat was gone, its taste lingered on my tongue, and my stomach pulsed uncomfortably. It was a new sensation, being full. I’d never been full before.
It was a glorious feeling.
I glanced at the steaming tub. That felt like a step too far. Maids washed with a damp rag. A bath, utilizing so much water, was a luxury only fit for the Gods-Chosen.
But it was salt water. There was plenty of that. And it would seem strange for the queen not to wash. Plus, it was very plausible that tomorrow would spell the end for me. Tonight could be my only chance to take a proper bath in my entire life.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I shed my queen’s nightgown and climbed into the tub.
The hair stood up all over my body as I sank into the blissfully warm water.
Holy gods. Any remaining chill vanished in moments.
It was as if the heat sapped every ounce of tension out of me as I melted back against the metal tub.
I washed. Really washed. The salt stung my bloody wrists and back, but I endured it as I watched grime and filth slide off my skin, turning the water a murky brown.
I could actually see freckles. I had freckles, little dark circles against my already tanned skin, dotting my forearms, a smattering on my thighs.
Though it didn’t really make sense, I felt like I could finally… breathe. As if the filth had been drowning me and now I’d managed to break through the surface.
I stayed in the tub until the water was entirely cold.
Then I used an obscenely plush towel to dry off and dressed in the clothes Velka had pointed out.
A tunic the shade of sand on a hot day, nearly golden, lined with fleece, and wool pants.
Shrugging the garments on was like surrounding myself in a cloud.
Then I knelt beside the bed and muttered quickly through Nightly Prayer. No, my queen wasn’t here, but perhaps she’d feel the gods’ blessings wherever she was. If it was possible, my body relaxed even further as the calm of prayer settled over me.
I hadn’t slept in days. If I’d been asked this morning, I would have anticipated another sleepless night. But the feather mattress was infinitely more comfortable than my cot or the hard ground, and I was fed, bathed, and so, so exhausted.
I was asleep in a matter of heartbeats.