Chapter 21
Don’t get me wrong, I was very grateful to have access to a water-trough-converted-to-a-bath on a daily basis.
It was much better than the traditional half bucket of water.
But I swore nothing felt better in this godsdamned world than a proper bath.
It hadn’t been that long since I’d had one—three actually, when we were at the Dunehaven inn.
I poured the citrusy soap vial into a brim-filled bath before submerging myself. Then I scrubbed myself head to toe. Twice. I reached for another vial, scoffing at the word Aegir used in relation to my smell—displeased.
I hugged my knees, my gaze drifting to the bag Farah had given me earlier. Her words made me curious about its contents, but I hadn’t yet dared to peek inside.
“I figured that for such a rare occasion and for what we—you—have to endure,” she said softly, her hand at my chin, moving my face left to right, “I thought I’d find you something…
well…lovely. I also took the liberty of finding you a cloak and a pair of shoes.
” A small wave of excitement had hit me at the word “shoes” and my eyes glittered.
I hoped that they would fit and be comfortable, and that I would never be asked to return them.
Ever. A little flicker of hope that I quickly suppressed.
“Oh, and do not wear the dress in front of the three princesses of Lady Nadania. I suspect it was one of theirs, never picked up from the seamstress,” Farah warned.
I submerged myself one last time before getting out and reaching for the towel.
I took out the cloak first, gently rubbing the brown fabric between my fingers.
It was surprisingly soft, too soft. Then I took out the camel-brown boot-like shoes from the bag and inspected them closely.
They might have been considered pretty, but what was more important was their excellent condition.
My hope for them to fit and the chance of keeping them rekindled.
I was about to try them on but red fabric caught my attention.
Wow.
Farah had lied when she described it as lovely.
This was beyond lovely—this was…exquisite.
I swore it appeared harsh and fierce in its deep crimson, but its fabric was so lightweight, it whispered of delicateness and softness.
Not to mention its impeccable stitching and its golden sheer underlay. Simply exquisite.
I moved towards the tall mirror, red dress in hand, and looked at myself.
It had been a while since I’d seen all of myself undressed.
I frowned at the realisation that I hadn’t even noticed how fragile I’d become.
My skin appeared thin, my bones visible—at my collar, my ribs, my spine.
I wondered if I looked worse than this a few weeks back, before I started having breakfast with Aegir every morning.
Frustration revisited me at the thought.
I was so angry at myself for getting caught, at my clumsiness.
I slipped into the red dress, my skin feeling caressed by the touch of the velvety, foreign material.
Despite my small waist, it hugged nicely around my belly, giving me a more defined feminine shape.
It wasn’t as tight at my bust and hips, but I didn’t dare complain.
I had never worn something as nice, as rich.
Its neckline was V-shaped, going down to my breastbone, and I realised that for the first time in ages, I would be exposing my necklace…
and the constellation of bruises along my arms. The dress was even more revealing at the back, another V-cut that exposed the whole length of my spine.
I gaped as I neared the mirror. The dress had two inconspicuous vertical slits at its front. They ran down from my thighs to the floor, and when I walked, the underlayer of gilded mesh shimmered.
I wove my hair into a tight braid on either side of my mid-part, and at my nape, I formed two identical low buns. I hated my reddened cheeks and how visible they were with my hair pulled away from my face like that. My hands went to my necklace, my only source of feigned courage.
The shoes made my feet feel like they’d landed on a cushioned pillow. I must keep these. I finally draped the cloak around myself and made my way to the kitchen.
My mouth salivated like a starving dog at the sight of food, at every belly-grumbling whiff.
I piled the trolley—both shelves. A tray of roasted beef with pomegranate gravy, boiled potatoes seasoned with rosemary and parsley, a side dish of legumes and vegetables, and a pot of sweet potato and chickpea soup with knots of freshly baked bread.
Then I transferred a round tray of the most delicious-looking apple cake.
Now this was fucking torture. I would go to bed happy tonight if they left me a tiny piece of that cake.
I, of course, added wine and ale next to the jar of water on the bottom shelf. Then I asked Merti to help me carry the trolley.
“I spent all day working on this masterpiece. I will not risk any of it dropping to the floor. Move aside, Delia. Tomas, come help me carry this up to the second floor,” the cook ordered.
I followed them upstairs. I knocked before entering, back-first. I pulled the trolley inside.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
This male made…he made Aegir seem…smaller, somehow.
I was sure he was the biggest and whitest male I had ever seen in my entire life, and I had not long ago spent a week with Ice Fae warriors.
He was sitting down, yet I was certain he almost reached my height, and his knees—they hit the bottom of the tabletop despite his uncomfortable efforts.
His chest was so broad, he turned the dinner table into a coffee table.
Everything appeared smaller! I wondered if his milk-white hair was as long as mine.
It reached down to the middle of his back.
Then my gaze fell and lingered on Aegir.
Impeccable—that was the first word that came to mind when I saw him.
He was casually propped on the dinner table, close to Eldric, wearing his olive green tunic and matching trousers.
His wavy hair was pulled back, with only a few persisting curls at his front, falling just in front of his brows.
“Cordelia, this is Eldric Frager, Captain of the Ice Vanguard, a brother, and my second. Eldric, this is Cordelia Wildheart.”
Just Wildheart? No introduction? No “my servant”?
I gave Eldric a small curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Frager.”
“The pleasure is all mine, axe-thrower Wildheart.” My cheeks heated at the thought of Aegir telling him about me throwing axes. Or perhaps it was one of the boys who told him. Joel, I was sure. I only gave him a subtle nod and a hint of a smile.
“Lord Aegir, should I set the table and then leave you two in private while you talk? I can stay outside and—”
“No, you’ll stay.”
I nodded. Then, for some unsure reason—perhaps the reminder of that map I’d glimpsed—I said, “I want to let you know that I will not speak one word of what will be said.” I looked at both and none of them at the same time as the words left my mouth.
“I know that, Cordelia, and I promise you the same,” Aegir replied.
My head tilted slightly, and I looked at his face, trying to understand what he meant by that. Mounir was right, I did act like a dog sometimes. But so did Aegir, with all the sniffing and scenting and whatnot.
I moved closer to the coat hanger and untied the soft brown cloak from around my neck.
I was so accustomed to wearing the same three dresses over and over that I felt embarrassed to show myself in anything else—anything nice.
I let out a shaky exhale before turning myself their way, focusing on maintaining an impassive face.
As I sauntered towards the trolley, I glimpsed Aegir looking my way.
He appeared momentarily frozen, his only movement being his lips parting only slightly.
Then I saw his mouth curve into a frown as he observed the scattered collection of bruises along my exposed arms.
Eldric, I noticed, was no longer seated at the dinner table but was propped on the windowsill.
He looked at Aegir and said, “I see, brother.” I didn’t know what he meant by that.
I only kept working. I placed two wine glasses and two water glasses on the table.
Then I went to grab the wine bottle, but halted midway when I heard Eldric say, “Leave some for me, will you?” And that’s when I lifted my head.
One second, a colossal Ice Fae was perched on the sill, the next, a white eagle stood on the ledge of the window.
His talons were so thick, sandstone crumbled.
Then he just…flew away, his majestic wings blending with the sand dunes until disappearing from sight.