Chapter 28
Lilias
WALK WITH ME
Ifeel strangely exhausted once Acelina and her bustling, whispering group of attendants leave.
It took them an absurdly long amount of time to measure my body, and now the light is fading from the sky.
Someone brought a feast into the room while the seamstress pinned swaths of fabric over my shoulders and Acelina and her women spent hours debating about whether or not the color set off my eyes or if the fabric was too rich for the time of year.
I had the strange, hollow realization that, despite being raised in the castle of Marion as a princess, there were layers to royalty I’d never even sensed before.
Most of the dresses I wore and brought with me to Vsenrog were once my mother’s, and what I knew of trends and colors I’d picked up from my father’s clothier, an older gentleman who was always having torrential love affairs with young grooms.
I thought I knew everything I needed to know about clothes.
I didn’t even know how wrong I was.
So I mostly stayed silent as the women debated my future wardrobe, only offering my opinion if I was directly asked, and even then, I usually defaulted to agreeing with Acelina or making desperate eye contact with Anura and trying to guess the answer she was mouthing to me.
Once they left, and after someone came in to clear away the plates, glasses, and napkins, I collapsed in the chair.
Anura said she’d be back with dinner; I waved her away, grateful for the quiet.
Now, shadows spread across the tiled floor of the room as the sun sets over the mountains. The bushes outside are beginning to leaf out, softening the black lines of their silhouette. My eyes trace the shadows as they branch and fold like paths on a map.
There’s another knock on the door. This one is softer, perhaps a servant come to fetch something one of Acelina’s women left behind.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens, and a square of light falls across the tile. I hadn’t realized how dark it had grown in the bedroom. I glance up.
My husband stands in the doorway.
I jump to my feet, then bow. He doesn’t enter the room. I can’t help but glance at his thigh, although I can’t see a thing through his dark pants. I assume he’s caring for the wound I wrapped the last time I saw him. Or someone else is.
“Lilias,” he says.
The sound of my name on his lips makes me shiver, although I have no idea why.
“Walk with me,” he finishes. His voice rises at the end, making the request sound like a question.
I pull my cloak over my shoulders as he enters the room.
He moves silently, placing his heels down first and then rolling his feet on the stone floor.
Petrys showed me that same technique several days ago, in the meadow; he said tiptoeing was too unstable, especially if I had to go somewhere in the dark.
I asked him what in the nine hells he thought was going to happen to me in the palace of Vsenrog. He didn’t respond.
Zarek offers me his arm. I place my hand on it and try not to think about what it felt like to lean against his body as he led me through the town of Vsenrog, my head swimming with bitter ale and the almost giddy realization that he wasn’t going to kill or banish me after walking in on Blayne and me.
He’s a strange man, the snake of Vsenrog. I still don’t know what to make of him.
Zarek leads me into the hallway, then out a small door and into the garden. I remember what Acelina said, that the snake likes a room on the ground floor, and I wonder if that’s true or if it was some sort of insult I didn’t understand.
The air in the garden is cool and filled with the sound of trickling water. Above us, the setting sun paints the highest ramparts of the castle walls, turning them golden. Puffy clouds streak across the sky. Zarek leads me down a narrow path toward the garden walls.
“How is your leg?” I finally ask, keeping my voice low.
I glance at him. His lip curls in the soft twilight.
“Fine,” he replies. “Thank you for your concern.”
I open my mouth to ask him more, like whether or not he’s changing the bandages, or who’s changing them for him, but I think better of it.
There’s a small wooden gate in the garden wall. Zarek pushes it open, then leads me through.
The garden on the far side is another world.
It’s organized into long, rectangular plots, most of them bursting with new growth.
The paths are covered with wood chips, not gravel, and heat rises from the exposed earth.
There are no shade trees here, and we’ve walked away from the trickling song of the fountains.
“The kitchen garden,” I say. I’m still speaking in a whisper, for some reason.
Zarek nods. We walk to the back of the garden. The scent of rot and manure rises from the open bins along the far wall. I wrinkle my nose. My husband really does bring me to the loveliest of places.
He leads me past the row of open bins, then stops in the far corner.
There is a series of sheds here, presumably for gardening tools.
The wall here is much lower, and it’s crumbling in places, giving glimpses of the city sloping away below us.
The last of the light spills across the red-tiled roofs of the city, and for a moment, I’m struck by the realization that Vsenrog is much lovelier than I’d expected.
“Tell me about your brother,” Zarek says in a low voice.
I almost laugh. He used that same tone in the nasty pub when he asked about Blayne. I open my mouth to ask him why in the nine hells he wants to know about Elrick, but something entirely different comes out instead.
“Where are you sleeping?” I ask.
I clamp my mouth shut in horror. My damned smart mouth, as my father would say. My cheeks burn, as if anticipating a smack for saying something so brash.
Zarek’s lips curl, and he looks away. If he’s surprised by my question, he doesn’t show it.
“I’ve been seen entering the Golden Rose brothel every night,” he says.
Something inside my chest pinches. I pull myself up a bit straighter. Of course. That’s not a surprise; I assumed he had other partners. For some reason, I remember the look Acelina gave me when she saw the bruises on my arm. Sympathy. No, pity.
“I leave the Golden Rose through the back door,” he continues. “Once it’s dark. And I sleep in a hayloft in the stables.”
“But, why?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
He’s still smiling, but in a way that makes him look sad.
“It’s safer this way,” he replies in a low voice. “Trust me. You don’t want to be associated with me.”
My laugh comes out as an unladylike snort. “It’s a little late for that,” I mutter.
Zarek runs his hand through his dark hair, then glances at the setting sun like he’s checking the time. I wonder if he’s late for his appearance at the Golden Rose brothel. What a stupid name.
“Please,” Zarek says. “Tell me about your brother.”
My hands twist together at my waist. I can’t imagine why he wants to know about Elrick. But then I remember the way he looked at me in that dirty little pub, when he said he was going to be clear with me, that he’d share everything with me.
I take a breath, then turn toward my husband, the snake of Vsenrog.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.