Chapter 13 #2
I gave a simple nod. She was speaking so quickly, my input didn’t seem necessary. Catrin led me down a different stone corridor that appeared to lead to a different wing of the castle. She narrated on the way.
“The princes’ apartments are at the end.
Yours is just…” She stopped before a set of wide, carved double doors.
“Here. They had their mother’s apartment done over for you.
” She sucked in a quick breath, worry jetting out of her.
“Oh no, I wasn’t supposed to say that.” Her hands fidgeted at her sides, too nervous to reach for the door handle but too afraid not to move.
“Guess it’s out there in the world now. Don’t tell the princes, will you? ”
They were giving me the queen’s room?
Stay calm, Isca. For all you know, this is how royals normally act when sent a diplomat.
I mutely shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. A chaotic, anxious energy rolled off Catrin. She was incredibly excited about…me? No one had ever been this excited about me. What had she been told about why I was here?
Catrin kept chattering. “Not that Prince Nisien would care that I said anything, really. He’s so agreeable.
We’re lucky to have him.” She swung the doors open wide.
“I was told to make it feel welcoming,” she said.
“I hope you like it. There’s fresh food on the table.
I can send for more if you’d like. A hot bath is next. Oh, and— Well, I suppose you’ll see.”
The room was something out of a dream. Tapestries in white and gold cloaked the walls. A fire crackled gently in the hearth. One side of the room was dominated by a single massive door inlaid with gold. A second, simpler pair of doors adjacent to it opened onto a balcony.
Thick furs covered the bed. Next to the hearth sat a small oaken table. Atop was a bowl overflowing with bright green apples, crusty bread, soft cheese, and a container of jam that smelled like summer berries. My stomach roared its approval. It remembered every missed meal that had come before.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice hushed. “This is…more than I expected.” I walked over to the massive ornate door on one side of the room, allowing my fingers to trail over some of the decorations. “What is this for?”
“Oh, that leads to the king’s chambers, my lady.
” She paused, noticing the smallest hint of concern on my face.
“No one’s occupied those rooms for years.
No king, no need.” Catrin beamed, thrusting the bread toward me like a sacred offering.
“Still warm,” she whispered. “And the cheese is the soft kind. Mam says it’s good with the jam.
Would you like tea or wine? I can go ask—”
“No, please,” I said, crossing to the table in a daze as she gently pushed me toward it from behind. “This is… Water is…perfect.”
I sat and stared at the veritable feast before me for a long moment. The room was enormous, with separate areas for sitting, sleeping, changing, bathing, and relaxing. It was larger than the house that had slept nine people for years.
Catrin must’ve noticed my hesitation because she grabbed the knife sitting next to the loaf of bread and started slicing.
She layered the bread with cheese, a slice of apple, and topped that off with a smattering of jam.
She shoved the plate of food in front of my face.
“I have to get your dress and bath ready, Lady Isca, but the prince insisted that you be fed upon arrival. So eat!”
Only knowing that my family in Caervorn had a coin-filled purse to buy food of their own let me contemplate it. I took a bite so large it left me unable to answer Catrin’s next dozen questions as she worked.
“It’s like you haven’t eaten in days.” She laughed, hands on her hips.
“It feels like it, with the travel and all.” I swallowed. I’d eaten well on the trip, but those were travel rations.
I don’t know what drove me to it. Perhaps it was Catrin’s openness and talkative nature that prompted my honesty. The words spilled out of me. “For me, this bowl is a feast, Miss Catrin. I do not come from wealth. So please, just call me Isca. Mage Isca, if you must.”
Her expression shifted. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I had a suspicion, not that I’d say so without your prompting. Because of the dresses.”
I blinked at her, confused.
Catrin smirked and walked over to a large chest at the foot of the bed.
“A missive straight to the top servant called for some of the princess’s old gowns to be brought out of storage and made into new styles.
That’s when I guessed.” She pointed at my thin waistline.
“Bronwyn likes her honeycakes, so there was plenty of fabric to make a few things totally new for you.”
Almost everyone was better fed than I was, so that wasn’t saying much.
As I nibbled a piece of the soft cheese that was so creamy it made me want to cry tears of joy, Catrin neatly arranged the dresses across the foot of the bed.
All were crafted from luxurious, heavy fabrics, dyed in rich jewel and pastel tones and embroidered.
The most ornate one featured hundreds of tiny pearls. I’d never seen anything quite like it.
The Assembly had thought of everything. Even my shame.
“Thank you,” I said again, quieter this time. “They’re exquisite. I just…wasn’t expecting it.”
Catrin moved to the next chest, flipping the lid with ease.
“These are for court. You’ll look like a goddess in the green one with your hair done up just like it is now.
It will bring out your eyes like nothing else.
Oh, and a blue one that would look stunning!
The fancier ones are for when you’re meeting nobles.
But any of them will do when one of the princes calls for you. ”
“Am I to wear one of these dresses tonight?”
“Oh yes, Mage Isca. I’ve already chosen one.”
The crimson dress she pulled out was embroidered with gold—the exact same color Emrys’s cloak had been in Caervorn.
“That one…” I hesitated, worried about rebuffing her since she was so amiable. “We should save that one for a brighter day when the color will really shine.”
Catrin responded as if a god had come down from the sky and graced her with the undeniable truth. “Lady Mage, you have an eye for fashion!”
All my fashion knowledge had been gleaned while mending clothes with my mother. What I actually had was an aversion to wearing his color.
Mouth suddenly dry, I picked up the water in the oddly wide-mouthed goblet, which was flecked with rose petals. Almost too pretty to drink. I lifted it to my lips just as Catrin gasped.
“That’s for your hands, my lady!”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Of course it was. Peasant. I wanted to bury my face in my hands.
I could tell she was stifling a laugh when she looked at me sidelong. “You’re a diplomat, then?”
“Not exactly.” I brushed a few crumbs from my lap and stood. “I’ve been sent because of my magic. I can…calm tempers. Ease tensions. That sort of thing.”
Catrin’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Then surely you’ve come to help Prince Emrys. Gods know he needs it. He’s the sort that growls before he speaks, but he’s not bad. Not once you know him.”
I raised a brow. “Is that what they say?”
“Not…always with those words.” She shrugged.
“I met him once before,” I said dryly. “He wasn’t anything like his brother.”
Catrin winced. “Ah. Well. He’s not…smooth like Nisien, is he? But he’s got a good heart, underneath the curse and the scowl.”
The curse? Nisien had called it a condition. But diving into it on my first day would only overwhelm me more than I already was.
So I replied simply, “I’ll take your word for it.”
With a final fuss over the hem of one gown and the rearranging of a cushion that didn’t need it, Catrin eventually took her leave to prepare my bath, promising to return shortly. As the door closed behind her, I finally exhaled.
I crossed to the writing desk tucked beneath the window.
The parchment and ink set had likely been meant for reports to the Assembly, but Nisien had said I could write to my family.
There was so much I could never say to them.
But I could write the truths that mattered most: I was alive. I was warm. I was fed.
But I was still afraid. Terrified of what came next. I didn’t know how to fix the man I’d met thrice now—who’d turned from me each time. I didn’t even know the problems that faced this kingdom, these princes. And I had no idea how to act as a diplomat, much less a lady of the court.
As I dipped the quill in ink and began a letter to my mother, all the emotions I’d been suppressing since leaving Caervorn—the grief, the anger, the lingering fear—crashed over me. Tears covered the surface of the first sheet of paper, but a steady hand wrote the second.