She rested a firm hand on his scarred chest and shimmied off the bed, sliding into the robe. She tossed him another robe. “I’m serious about that bath. You can have me again when you’re presentable.”
Though he grumbled, he donned the robe, and Bryn let in Lada. The girl’s eyes instantly went to the rumpled sheets, but she said nothing. She laid two folded bundles of clothes on the table. “Helna sent these. There are also sashes to wear while grieving—I don’t know if your traditions are the same in the Mirien, my lady.”
Bryn nodded. “They are.”
Lada patted the other sets of clothes. “And these are garments for the coronation. Your gown from the Harvest Gathering, my lady, and for King Rangar . . .” She hesitated. “Well, all we have on short notice are the garments Helna had prepared for Trei.” She rushed to add, “He never wore them, though. Before he could, he—”
He died.
Bryn quickly spared the girl her flustered nerves. “Thank you, Lada. King Rangar will be down for his bath shortly.”
Lada nodded curtly. “I’ll let the attendants know.”
Bryn closed the door to find Rangar’s gaze fixed low on her hips, and she wagged a finger at him. “To the bathhouse with you. I’ll . . .” she swallowed. “I’ll see you at the funeral.”
His mood grew sullen at the mention of the bathhouse. Though Bryn was certain the Deathkeepers would have already relocated King Aleth’s body, she hated that he was going to have to return to the site of such fresh pain.
She sniffed her own armpits. “Hmm, I suppose I need my own bath—”
She shrieked as Rangar captured her around the waist, pulling her back to the bed. With him sitting and her standing, his head was at the level of her chest, though his gaze was pinned to her face.
Reaching a hand to smooth over her cheek, he said, “First, tell me what happened here while I was away.”
“Wedding planning, mostly. Mage Marna had hoped we could wed before your father passed to avoid waiting for the grieving period.”
His eyes dropped to her curves. “I had hoped for that, too. You have no idea how much I’d prefer to see you dressed today in a wedding gown instead of a funeral sash.” His hands squeezed her waist where the sash would later hang. “And Fable? Did you ride her?”
Bryn smiled. “Some, yes. She’s a dream horse, Rangar. I trust her footing completely.” The smile faded as she hesitantly admitted, “Though I didn’t ride her as much as I’d have liked. I was busy with the wedding planning, and Ren and I spent time researching spells that could have created the berserkir wolves, and I . . . ” At her pause, he raised an eyebrow for her to continue. “I underwent the mage apprentice initiation.”
His hands tightened protectively around her waist. His eyes scoured her body as though searching for any wounds he might not have seen while making love to her. “You did? When?”
She told him about the hollowed-out tree stump and the death slumber hex. It was impossible to keep the excitement from her voice as she recounted the thrilling events, and when she finished, she was surprised to see an amused smile on his face.
“You’repleasedthat I almost died?” she challenged.
“Of course not,” he said, the smile stretching wider. “I’m pleased youlived. You know, Mage Marna isn’t training you because you have an interest in magic. She’s doing it because she’s getting older, and with Calista gone, the kingdom will need a head mage after her death.”
Bryn was taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mage Marna might intend forBrynto take her place one day. “But Ren is far ahead of me in his studies.”
“Ren is on a path to replace the healer,” Rangar explained. “His studies are focused on that aspect. A head mage must be well versed inallaspects of hexes and even experiment to forge new ones. Calista was in line to take my aunt’s place.”
Bryn was almost at a loss for words. “There must be so many people more gifted at hexes than me.”
“That is true,” Rangar conceded. “But none who will be queen. A Mage Queen? It hasn’t been seen in a hundred years. My aunt wants to leave the kingdom in the hands of someone with as much political power as magical power.”
Bryn sank onto Rangar’s knee, her head spinning with the prospect of one day being not only the kingdom’s queen but head mage as well.
A Mage Queen.
If anyone could bring together science and magic, it would be someone in that position.
Another timid knock came at the door.
Lada was back, looking sheepish. “My lord? My lady? The baths are ready and, begging your pardon, a crowd is already gathering in the village square.” She cleared her throat. “For you.”
Bryn’s arm tightened around Rangar’s neck.
She allowed herself to revel in this one brief moment—the two of them, not yet king and queen, just a boy and girl mad with love for each other.
