Were her hips really that wide?
If they were going to eye her hips and legs with such disdain, they could give her back her Chymesian clothes and just let her be the filthy savage they all thought she was. But before she could pitch the idea, the seamstresses were done and gone.
Then the maids threw a dress from the wardrobe over her head. Hellebore let them since the style was different than her usual skirts and blouses and she wouldn't know where to begin to secure it.
Once she was dressed, she looked around to see the other servants were gone, and she was left with just the guards and the original pair of maids. They sat her in front of the vanity and handled her hair.
The two bickered about a style for a minute before Hellebore said, “Does it really matter? Just—” As her mind blanked on the Iubian word for braid, she made the motion with her fingers. “—then pin it.”
“Do you mean braid?” the taller of the two asked.
Hellebore snapped her fingers and pointed at her. “Yes. That. Braid it.”
The girls obeyed, quickly doing two braids and wrapping them around her head in a crown, pinning it into place.
Finally, they seemed to be done, and when she rose from her seat to be escorted to the king who apparently was fussier about her appearance than she was, the shorter maiden shook her head and said, “No, His Majesty will come see you later.”
Hellebore huffed and moved to sit on the sofa where a breakfast tray sat as they left. The guards stayed, perfectly silent. Smart. The guards were staying inside the room to make sure now that Hellebore had her hands, she didn't try anything.
The sun kept climbing into the sky, and when it reached its apex, the door finally opened. She'd been staring at her injured wrists, ignoring the guards, and looked up to see the captain from before in her doorway.
So he wasn't dead. That was a relief. She didn't need to see the king with murder as one of the charges against her.
If she was a hostage, she needed to be a sympathetic one.
He looked much better than the last time she'd seen him. She rose from her seat, and his quick stride halted when she did. He looked up from the door and froze at the sight of her.
She raised an eyebrow as his eyes skimmed over her, looking like a Sun Elf and far less like a mad alchemist. His eyes darted back up to her face, and his expression steeled as he finished stepping into the room. He gave the female guards a nod, and they departed, shutting the door behind them.
Wait...
She spoke in Iubian. “What is going on?”
He paused in front of the door. “What?”
“The maids—they said the king was going to come see me.”
He stared at her. As the moment stretched down, a sinking feeling settled over her, especially as she looked him over, studying the pattern he was wearing. It was the same as the royal she'd seen the day before.
Oh no.
She’d thought the hole she’d dug for herself couldn’t get deeper. She had been very wrong.
Chapter 5
Hellebore stared at the Sun Elf in front of her.
King Taiyo.
This whole time…
He’d been King Taiyo since the moment he’d stood over her, catching her with the iris, and had still been King Taiyo when she’d nearly killed him trying to sedate him.
It’d been nice living while she’d had the chance.
Finally, he took a step toward her, speaking slowly, his melodic voice rumbling over the words. “I am the king.”
There was no point pretending to be agreeable now. She’d almost killed the king and there was no doubt that armies were being drafted to go back into the centuries-dead war she’d just resurrected.
