Now it was her turn to grimace. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to invade his privacy like that.” Her friend snorted, but still she continued on to say, “It is none of my business what that man does with his evenings, so long as he keeps up his end of our bargain.”
Olivia delivered to her a flat stare, a single eyebrow arching. “Mmhm, right. And that’s exactly why you stayed up all night last night thinking about it, and why you’re now having nightmares about some voice saying no one wants you.”
In the wake of her friend’s words, Seraphina could only swallow. No quick retort rose to her tongue.
Olivia heaved out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I knew I should have never told you. Because I know how you get, Sera. You have to knowallthe facts or else the not knowing drives you mad.”
Her friend jabbed a finger at her, pointing at the bundle of dark clothing within her hands. “So, put those on and come with me so you can see for yourself that this man has terrible taste in women and that you’re ten times prettier than she is.”
Before she could conjure up any manner of protest, Olivia found a man’s flat cap amongst her things and tossed that at her, too. “Tuck your hair into this,” her friend instructed, one of her trademark grins finally cracking her lips. “You’ll never pass for a man, but we’ll be moving too quickly for anyone to get a good look at you. Won’t we?”
Chapter twenty
Seraphina
The chill wind swirled around her, tugging at her clothing, numbing her fingertips, as if the waking world were determined to mirror the world of her nightmare. Ignoring the cold as best she could, she buried her hands within the folds of her simple cloak and forged onward.
Her booted feet crunched on the autumn leaves.
Her breath misted before her.
She couldn’t believe she had let Olivia talk her into this. It had been well over a decade since the last time they had snuck out of the palace together. They were grown women in their thirties now, not mischievous teenagers. Her country was at war. Her people expected her to be queenly. Responsible.
What if she were assassinated in these woods and left her kingdom with no one to succeed her? No heir? She supposed Aldric would have the best claim to the throne now that they were wed. Coreto would oppose his claim, though.
Her godparents surely would as well.
She’d much rather have an Umberly on the throne of Elmoria than any of the Duke of Coreto’s kin. House Threston would throw her people into disarray with their pagan faith—worshipers of the Lady Below that they were.
The cottage Olivia had spoken about became visible through the trees just up ahead. It was a squat structure with a sagging roof, framed by overgrown foliage. She might have almost thought it was abandoned were it not for the lights gleaming in the windows.
And the sight of her Crow’s large warhorse tied up in the trees nearby.
Her throat grew tight at the sight of the great black beast.
Aldric truly was here. This was it.
Her hand slipped toward the dagger strapped at her hip, fingertips worrying at the leather-wrapped hilt. This had been a mistake. There was still time for them to turn back. Their own horses weren’t too far away.
She parted her lips, just about to tell Olivia that they should go, when a sound drifted from the direction of the cottage. A sound that stopped her dead in her tracks.
It was the sound of Aldric…laughing.
Not with scorn. Or bitterness. But simple amusement. Happiness. Joy.
He was happy. For once, her husband sounded…happy.
Olivia paused and turned to look at her, her head canted with an unspoken question.
Seraphina met her friend’s eyes in the darkness and mouthed without sound, “I can’t do this.”
Without a word, Olivia took her by the hand and crept closer to the little cottage, dragging her along as she went. Even with her bad leg and her rat-topped cane helping her walk, her Spymaster moved much more quietly than she ever could.
She was sure Aldric would hear her coming. Each step sounded like a great thud to her own ears. Her breath rattled loudly through the night.
The cottage loomed closer. Through the part in the threadbare curtains, she caught sight of him at last sitting at a table with a woman. A beautiful woman with shoulder-length hair in a rich shade of umber, dusky skin, and dark eyes to match. She was clearly Drakmori.
But she dressed like a Kunishi.
