Chapter 22 #2
Since the townspeople arrived, I feel like I’ve glimpsed his true face. As people bled and scrambled and struggled around him, he’s been a calm point of gravity.
And it looked just as natural on him as the velvet and the revelry and the women. Even though this new view of him intimidates me, I want more.
In the few moments we’ve collided, I have received his full attention. I have been the beneficiary of his foresight, when he saved me from Norville, and even now, as my muscles loosen in this bath.
I want his focus on me.
I ordered him not to come in, but I suddenly wish he would.
My traitorous mind imagines him reentering the chamber, seeing me floating here, naked except for the mist and lavender.
I want to watch his eyes heat and his jaw tighten, while he pretends he doesn’t desire me.
I want to see that control break. All kinds of things could happen in this room, slippery and naked.
It sends a shiver down my spine, and one hand skating over my stomach.
But then a yellow dress and a high-pitched laugh flash through my head.
He has undoubtedly been in this bath with a string of other women. My mouth twists.
No. I am not feeling this.
I dip my head beneath the water, letting it rush over me, muffling the world.
Both things can be true of the man—he can pursue pleasure and be a good leader, worthy of respect. But he can’t focus on multiple women and keep his eyes on me. Which is why every thought about this lord needs to be scrubbed from my brain.
When I emerge, I start washing away the last few days. I scour my skin with soap, dragging it through the sweat, the blood, the dirt. The gentle current in the bath carries it all away.
I’ll need to charcoal my hair again soon. This soap stripped more of the pigment, leaving the wet strands a muted gray.
Alaris said I could stay as long as I liked, but if I did that, I might truly never leave.
So I force myself to stand and exit the water.
A stack of towels is waiting on the bench, alongside a pile of clean clothes.
The cotton calf-length dress with laces at the top, leggings, and loose buttoned overdress can only be meant for me.
With clean fabric on clean skin, I feel reborn.
I pad out of the bathing room, down the hallway, and knock on the bedroom door. When there is no answer, I let myself in. Disappointment flickers through me when I find the room empty.
It isn’t that I was looking forward to seeing him, I tell myself. It’s just that I wanted to thank him.
At least his absence saves me from having to admit he was right about the bath. Totally and completely right. The lavender and hot water worked miracles.
I pause in front of the door. A note that says “Ly” at the top in curling script is pinned to the wood.
Assume your regular duties in the aviary in the morning, and return to your own room tomorrow night. The townspeople will all be transported and rehoused by the afternoon, so there will be no need for your assistance.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I mutter. If everything is operating smoothly tomorrow, I will tend to the hawks. But I’m not going to hide in the aviary all day if the staff needs more help.
The corner of my mouth lifts, as I imagine his expression if I said that to his face.
I really shouldn’t take so much joy in defying my employer.
I’m renewed as I walk back to the aviary, carrying my sullied clothes to be washed later.
Night has fallen, but I don’t bother with a lantern, the walk familiar enough to handle in the dark.
The chill air nips at my skin, but it doesn’t sink in.
The lingering heat from the bath warms my blood, and the clothing Alaris left for me is surprisingly cozy.
I’ll be curled between the furs in the aviary soon enough.
A lantern rattles somewhere ahead, although I don’t see a light. I squint and spy a figure dashing across the grounds.
I probably wouldn’t recognize the outline of her curls if I hadn’t already desperately scanned her silhouette in my bedroom and the aviary. It’s Drina.
Maybe I’m being paranoid. The entire castle has been in disarray, schedules broken to accommodate the crisis. But all the townspeople are housed near the front gates and in the main courtyard—there’s no reason for Drina to be running in the opposite direction.
I drop my dirty clothes on the ground to retrieve later and trail after her.
She heads straight for the boundary wall. With a muffled groan of metal, a door I’ve never noticed swings open. Drina slips through and pulls it shut behind her.
I follow. The crossbar is already lifted, so the door gives easily under my hand. On the other side, Drina’s lantern is lit now, bobbing between the trees.
A chill creeps over my skin. Alaris’s warning about going off the grounds carries new weight after seeing the impact of the wither firsthand. I’ve heard many grief-strained voices report how quickly it appears and spreads. But Drina has lived here longer. She surely knows the risks.
Yet she’s headed into the woods anyway. There must be a reason.
I hurry after her.
She winds through the trees until she reaches a river, then follows its bank to a bridge.
She crosses over and so do I, my steps muffled by the rush of the current below.
The pines are denser on this side, their needles blocking most of the starlight.
Roots catch at my feet and branches scrape my arms. Without her lantern, I would lose her in seconds.
My pulse is hammering by the time the distance between us shrinks. She’s stopped. I pause behind a trunk and hold my breath as a second light flickers into view.
Someone else is here.
I creep closer, trying not to crunch the brittle needles beneath my boots. Drina’s back is to me, but her hands and shoulders are moving. The other figure is much taller, and he steps in.
The lantern’s glow falls across his face, and the blood drains from mine.
Even under a hood, I know that face. It’s a soldier I’ve seen at the palace. It’s one of Orso’s men.
I can’t catch their words from this distance, but their body language is enough. She’s talking, and he’s listening.
He is receiving a report.
Drina’s reporting on me. Reporting that the seventh princess has run away to hide in the realm of night.