As he pulls away, I feel like I’ve been thrust into a blizzard after sitting by the hearth. If not for his steadying hand on my back, I would have stumbled. Is this what women mean by swooning? Goddess damn it all. I can’t feel this way about him. This is all just pretend.
I stand still, trying to collect my thoughts and not blush, hardly aware of what’s happening all around me. Dietan greets the mayor of the town and introduces me and his entourage. He thanks the village for their hospitality on the grand tour with his chosen bride.
Little girls lay bundles of pink-and-blue flowers at our feet. Old women place wreaths on our shoulders, draping them so high that I can barely see over the stacks of greenery and blooms. My nose is full of their heady scent, making my head swim. All the while, Dietan’s hand is clasped tightly in mine, as if he knows I’m overwhelmed. And I am, because my skin is still tingling where he kissed me.
I’m thankful that the wreaths hide my face, because otherwise everyone would notice that I’m completely stunned. What the hell is happening? I hate this guy. Well, maybe I don’t hate him—but I don’t think much of him. He’s just some dumb prince. Plus, that wasn’t even a proper first kiss.
But I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, and I let myself be led inside the inn. It’s a relief; I immediately feel right at home. Inns are the same everywhere: a tavern occupies the ground level, and a staircase at the back leads to the rooms on the upper floors.
I follow Dietan up the steps into the finest suite in the inn. Of course, this is a small town like Evandale, rather than the lap of luxury Dietan’s probably used to, but the room is clean, the bed has new sheets, and there are fresh flowers in a vase on the nightstand.
The bed.
Oh.
We’re supposed to be getting married. We’re supposed to be in love.
There’s only one bed.
Does he expect me to sleep in here—with him? In Evandale, brides and grooms don’t share a bed until their wedding night, but maybe Loegrians do things differently. My body begins to buzz like a wasp’s nest, but before I can ask, we’re brought to a small foot-bathing station: two chairs in front of a steaming tub of water, with oils, sponges, and towels. Candles have been lit all around the room, despite the warmth of the sun pouring through the windows. It lends the room a distinctly romantic quality.
An older woman, old enough to be my mother, is already kneeling on a cushion near the bath, smiling and waiting for us both. Thinking of my mother makes my eyes tear up a bit. What would she think if she saw me here, a bride to a prince? Would she be proud? Or would she be worried about me, if I told her the truth of our arrangement? Would she have told me to go or stay?
After we’re seated, two girls remove our flower wreaths, then begin removing the petals from them and mashing them with a mortar and pestle. I’m unaware of the customs in this town, and I’ve never been a guest of honor, but I assume it’s all part of the ceremony. Dietan looks so at ease, giving me a reassuring smile that only awakens more butterflies in my stomach, so I just follow his lead.
The girls sprinkle the ground-up petals in the water, and the woman says a blessing over it. Dietan bows his head, so I do the same, watching him out of the corner of my eye. The woman dips her hand in the water and places her wet thumbs on both of our foreheads.
“It’s a ritual for safe travels,” Dietan whispers. I’m reluctantly impressed that he’s so well educated about customs from all over Alarice. “It’s supposed to give your feet the ability to always find the path you need.”
“And your head the sense to know when you find it,” the woman adds, pointing to her own forehead. She smiles and then leaves.
“Go ahead,” Dietan says when we are finally left alone.
I put my feet in the bath and sigh in pleasure.
“Not so bad being royal, huh?” he asks, soaking his own feet. “Perks of the job.”
“For us? Oh, it’s great. But those poor women probably wasted the whole day preparing for our arrival. Ever think of that?”
“Well, not really,” he replies offhandedly.
“Not really? Don’t you think she has other duties? Work that’ll put food on the table? Work she ought to be doing instead of…this?” I wave a hand toward the foot bath.
“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” says Dietan.
“Perhaps you ought to. Are we even paying for this little blessing?”
Dietan comes up short, scratching his jaw. “I’ll see that everyone is well compensated.”
“You do that.”
When we’re done, Dietan hands me a towel. I dry my feet and stand up. The suite is easily bigger than my bedroom and the twins’ combined. A spread of food has been laid on a table against the far wall. Dried meats, cheese, and fruit. I’m surprised; I thought there would be a banquet like the one in Evandale, where we’d have to put on a show. I’m grateful to eat in privacy. There’s no kitchen or time for me to make a proper warm meal, so the truffles will have to wait for later.
I notice the bed again and feel my cheeks flush as hot as the bathwater. Is Dietan going to be sleeping here? Does he expect us to carry on the charade even in private? What exactly did I sign up for?
Dietan is finishing drying his own feet when he notices I’m just standing there like a pile of rocks. A curtain of blond hair falls into his eyes, making him look even more boyish. “If I’d known kissing you was all it would take to shut you up, I might have done it sooner.”
“Ha,” is all I say, fiddling with a lock of hair that’s fallen from my bun. Knowing he noticed just how I froze under his touch leaves me doubly flustered.
