Chapter 7
The rented room above the tavern was only slightly larger than its appointed furniture.
A soft, clean bed with an eiderdown blanket hugged a nooked wall.
A wooden tub with steaming water that smelled of soap and sage stood waiting at its center.
A single candle lit on the nightstand cloaked the corners in dark, inky shadows.
There were no windows. The only air came through the narrow crack under the door, carrying sounds of muffled laughter from the tavern below.
Mirielle stood just inside the closed door that Maisey had locked behind her with a heavy key.
The oppressive dark weighed on her chest. She forced air into her lungs, quickly walked to the small table next to the bed and lifted the candle by its iron handle with trembling hands.
She shared its flame with another candle on the wall.
Then another.
And another.
She lit every candle that Maisey had provided—the sconces next to the chest of drawers, the narrow shelf near the door, the washstand. Warm flickering light flooded the room, challenging the shadows, retreating them into narrow seams.
Only then did she breathe. She sat on the bed and counted the candles like a prayer. One by the tub. Two by the bed. One near the door. Three on the walls.
When her heart had calmed, she pulled off her dress, heavy with dust from the road and thick with the musky damp scent of horses before leaving it in a laundry basket provided by the door.
She stepped into the tub. Its warmth penetrated her skin, melted her muscles and warmed her chilled fingers. She sank deep into it and watched as the curling steam rose from the surface into the cool air.
She closed her eyes and thought of the day.
Waking to find the Blood King in her bedroom certainly hadn't been on her list of favorite mornings.
Yet, despite everything, there had been quiet mercies.
Her bride price had been paid and paid generously.
Not being owned by the man who tried to ruin her brought her a small relief as well.
She thought of the bustling markets and sweeping country that stretched beyond where the eye could see.
She let out a slow breath. The sky seemed broader in the countryside, vast and endless. It felt like freedom, like running barefoot through palace halls chasing cats, like sneaking out at night to climb tangled ivy-covered walls to catch a glimpse of the city lights beyond the gates.
Her admission to the king left her nerves tingling in her belly.
She had expected fury, so she chose her location wisely.
A room full of rowdy strong men seemed like her best option.
She had hoped that the Blood King wouldn't lash out in violence against her in a place so public.
And she knew waiting would only postpone the inevitable and worsen the consequences.
But she hadn't expected him to smile. It was unsettling. Was it the kind of smile that promised violence? Or did he see through her lie? She wasn't sure, but neither option seemed very safe and she couldn't see it going particularly well for her.
But he said he wasn't angry with her and some part of her believed him. That left her with a strange feeling of hope. Maybe despite all evidence provided by rumor, the Blood King was more forgiving, or at least rational enough not to blame her for her cousin's planned treachery.
Maybe he would direct his anger at Orbin.
The thought brought her little comfort.
If Reis turned his wrath on Orbin, Nyteny and Bael would be caught in its path. Orbin had never hesitated to hide behind others. If he felt cornered, he would use them as shields before surrendering himself.
Weariness overcame her quickly and she promised herself she would worry about it later. One more day to survive. One day at a time. The bath was warm and the little joys were treasures.
The candles burned brightly while Mirielle put on her shift and crawled into the soft feather-warm bed.
Then sleep took her quickly.
*
Mirielle woke to darkness. The candles burned out. The black swallowed her whole.
Her breaths became quick and shallow as cold sweat beaded behind her neck. Then the walls closed in from every angle, pressing on her chest, suffocating her. Too close.
No light no light no light
She rolled her eyes and quickly found the only source of light in the room, a sliver under the door leaking light from the hallway outside.
She stumbled out of bed, nearly falling over before she caught herself on the wooden wall. Her hands shook violently, tracing the edge of the wall as she made her way through the black dark.
The span to the door seemed to grow impossibly large, weighed by the thick syrupy stretch of shadow.
For one desperate moment, she thought of reaching for her gift.
It stirred beneath her skin, ancient and eager, answering the spike of panic pushing against the barrel of her chest. She could already feel it gathering like a living, waiting thing to be set free.
One pull. One moment of surrender, and it would come flooding out of her.
But even with the heavy wood shut between them, she was sure Reis would see it immediately. Her gift was far from subtle. It shimmered silvery white, spilling through cracks and beneath thresholds like flooding moonlight under a door.
And the Blood King probably noticed everything.
The realization sent a cold wave of fear through her already trembling frame.
She hit the door with her whole body. Her frantic, shaking hands found the metal knob and turned only to be rejected by the iron bolt that fixed the door in place. She focused on the light that streamed over her feet, clinging to it.
She began pounding on the door with her palm frantically.
"Someone," she begged the dark, "please." Her voice was weak and raspy.
Darkness closed in around the edges. Her fingernails scraped against the waxed wood. Her body began to slump—her limbs felt weaker and weaker with each passing second.
There was a thud. Then a crack.
The doorframe splintered into tiny fragments as the door was forced from its closure. Beautiful light poured over Mirielle, bathing her skin, enveloping her like a soft blanket. Mirielle ran to it as if needing to be part of it, only to be caught by strong hands.
"Mirielle?" A firm voice called to her.
Air filled her strained lungs. She found a candle fixed to a wall behind him and she clung to it with all her attention like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.
His gaze swept over her, probing for injuries.
"I..." she said between wheezing pants. "I didn't mean..."
Reis's gaze snapped to the dark room behind her, appraising it of looming threats and found none.
Curious eyes appeared from doorways down the hall. She was wearing nothing more than a long loose shift that reached her bare toes, her figure only mostly concealed beneath it. He moved his body to hide her from their view.
"Return to your rooms," he growled a warning. Lurking eyes promptly vanished and doors clicked shut.
"I'm sorry. I just panicked." Her voice was still shaking.
"Did you forget where you were, princess?" He guessed wrongly. She could hear the smile in his voice.
Her cheeks heated as she stood rigid for a moment. His massive and surprisingly warm hands were firmly holding her bare shoulders. She closed her eyes and softly pushed off him. He released her immediately.
She reined in her breathing. The panic was receding, the room no longer pressing on her.
She stared at the gaping void of the room behind her. An uneasy feeling spilled in her stomach.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
He cocked his head and appraised her. His gaze dropped briefly to her nightdress. "You should get dressed."
Mirielle blinked.
"As much as I enjoy these run-ins, princess, the sun will be up soon. You should eat before we leave. We will not stop again until nightfall."
Her cheeks darkened to a deep crimson, only just realizing the unsightly state of her dress. She quickly shuffled further away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.
Reis hid a smile with his hand and turned away from her, returning his attention to the hall.
Then she pulled a candelabra from the wall and held it tightly in her hand. Holding it high, she mumbled something unintelligible and marched back into the room, shutting the broken door behind her.
*
Mirielle dressed deftly, having found a basket of clean laundry left next to her door at some time in the night. She washed her face, brushed and tied her hair. She passed a chair in the hall and crept down the stairs to the waking tavern below.
Soft morning light painted the room in cool silver tones. A low crackling fire spat and sputtered in the hearth. Plates and serveware clinked as hungover patrons drowsily downed their meals.
The morning's breakfast was steaming bowls of porridge made of oats and barley accompanied by dried berries and drizzled honey.
Reis was sitting at a table near the fire, looking very pleased with himself. One arm rested along the back of his chair. The other drummed lazily against the table.
"I would have made ye sleep in the barn if ye were going to just break the damn thing," Maisey scolded.
"It needed opening."
"Jamisen won't be back for three weeks. Three weeks! How am I supposed to rent a room with a ruddy door?"
Mirielle shrank into herself as she realized the conversation she had just walked into. Reis frowned and reached into his cloak and set a small leather pouch on the table.
"For the door."
Maisey frowned at it.
"I wasn't asking."
"I know."
Maisey picked up the pouch and peered inside.
The anger vanished from her voice, though she made a valiant effort to look offended.
"A door can wait a few weeks."
Reis grunted.
Maisey snatched up the pouch before he could change his mind. "You stay right there." She pointed at him as though he were a misbehaving child. "And don't break anything else."
She glanced at Mirielle standing like a frightened sheep by the stairs and huffed.
"I'll get the cider."
She began humming a suspiciously merry tune as she pulled clay cups from the shelves beneath the bar.
Reis watched as Mirielle took her seat across from him. She started gingerly eating her porridge. As much as she tried to focus on the bowl below her, she couldn't ignore his grin.
"You don't have to look so smug about it," she murmured in quiet defeat. Her cheeks had turned a brilliant shade of pink.
Reis's chest rumbled with laughter, deep and rich as distant thunder. "It's not that." He smiled at her. "I have many things to be happy about this morning, princess."
She furrowed her brows and her mind cast back to their conversation the night before. Anxiety churned low in her stomach.
"I have something for you," he said matter-of-factly.
A knot tightened beneath her ribs as she considered all the terrible things that could be.
"Finish your porridge."
Maisey set down two cups of steaming cider. He patiently watched the room while Mirielle ate.
Mirielle saw life slowly return to the tavern.
A barmaid wiped down tables, cleaning the salt and spilled ale from the night before.
A striped cat lounged beneath a window, warming itself in the morning light.
Laborers rubbed sleep from their eyes and loomy travelers hunched over their bowls.
Outside, the sounds of passing carts and stomping horses slowly rose with the dawn.
Knowing she wouldn't eat till dinner, she made sure to eat more than her fill. When Mirielle had finished, the still-grinning Reis offered his hand and escorted her outside.
"What is it?"
Reis didn't answer. He simply continued walking. Her dread only rose. Her body seemed to tense more with each step, preparing to flee at any moment.
Reis glanced at her with something that looked like concern only briefly.
She saw Hank, Reis's stallion, whom she had come to know well, already saddled and tied to a hitching post. Next to Hank stood another horse.
She was a similar breed to Hank. She had the same thick legs and black, shaggy coat, but instead of Hank's obsidian black mane and tail, hers was a light cream color. Matching cream dapples covered her coat like a snowy sky.
"I brought her for you," Reis said, his eyes fixed on her expression.
Mirielle froze. Of all the things that had run through her head of what it could be, this was far from any of them.
And the words struck her strangely. Brought her for you.
Not for a kingdom, a treaty, or the royal family.
Just for her. Just because she would need a horse.
The realization left her oddly speechless.
Carefully, she lifted a hand. The mare immediately pushed her nose into it. Warm breath washed across Mirielle's skin and something in her tightened.
"I wasn't sure if you knew how to ride," he said cautiously, suddenly unsure. "For now she'll just carry our packs."
The mare nudged Mirielle's shoulder and she let out a startled laugh. Reis's grin returned wide and warm as her smile beamed from her face. Something about that smile struck him funny and sideways.
"She's beautiful," she said, half giggling. The mare pushed her nose into Mirielle's cloak and she squeaked. Mirielle visibly relaxed for the first time all morning. Reis looked immensely relieved as well.
Mirielle looked up at him with bright, polished eyes. "What's her name?"
"She doesn't have one." The corner of his mouth pulled. "I thought you might want to choose it yourself."