“She’ll be with us shortly.” He shifted in his saddle and pointed to the other end of the meadow. “Your wife is in the last tent.”
Had that been…a diversion? If so, it worked. Larylis’ eyes locked on the elegant pavilion. He recognized Mareleau’s lady’s maids chatting outside the closed front flap. From the ease of their postures, the animated manners in which they spoke to each other, he sensed nothing amiss. Nothing to suggest Mareleau was in danger.
He returned his gaze to Teryn and saw his brother smiling back at him. It was a familiar grin, as comforting as a warm embrace. Larylis was starting to believe he really had overreacted.
“She’s missed you terribly,” Teryn said, lowering his voice. His previous air of formality was gone. “I’m sure you already knew that.”
Verdian broke away from Ulrich. “I’ll see my daughter at once.”
“I believe she’s bathing, Majesty,” Teryn said, prompting a flush of color to rise to the king’s cheeks. “At least, that’s what I’ve guessed based on the many buckets of boiled water I saw one of her maids dragging into the tent for the better part of an hour.”
Teryn was back to that formal tone again. Was it simply an act he was putting on in front of Verdian?
Larylis glanced back at his wife’s pavilion, heart pulsing with longing. While he had many questions to ask Teryn, he needed to see Mareleau. Needed to confirm she truly was safe.
“Why don’t you stay here, brother?” Teryn said. “Verdian, you should join us on our hunt. We have much to discuss regarding the peace pact, and what better time to start than now? If we are to take advantage of the daylight, we must leave at once. Dimetreus and Kevan already have a head start.” He nodded toward the edge of the woods where the first party was now hidden beyond the trees.
“Very well,” Verdian said, giving Larylis a subtle nod. Larylis knew what he was wordlessly trying to convey: Larylis would check on Mareleau while Verdian assessed the situation with Teryn and the others. Verdian ordered two of his guards to remain behind with Larylis while the other two would accompany him on the hunt. Larylis had left Lord Hardingham and his own guards back at Ridine to keep an eye on things there.
“Let’s be off then,” Teryn said, then cast his smile at Larylis again. “You’ll join us on tomorrow’s hunt, though, won’t you? It will be like old times.”
Larylis mirrored his brother’s grin. Was he pulling at straws trying to find something malevolent in his brother’s eyes? Of course this was Teryn. This was his brother. His best friend. “Like old times.”
Only…where was Berol? She’d accompanied Larylis on his journey until he’d met up with Verdian. After that, she’d made an appearance now and then, reminding him she was still following, but her absence struck him now. Why wasn’t she perched on Teryn’s shoulder, elated to see him? Or at the very least circling overhead?
“Give her this.” Verdian’s voice roused Larylis from his thoughts. The king pulled his horse up beside Larylis’ mount and thrust out a small package.
Larylis took it, brow furrowed.
Verdian’s cheeks pinked again. “It’s for the baby. My…grandchild,” he muttered between his teeth, then pulled his horse away.
Larylis watched after him, a lump caught in his throat. While Larylis knew Mareleau’s condition was fabricated, Verdian’s gesture moved him. Perhaps he really had come to regret the awful things he’d said to her when they’d last spoken.
Larylis watched the party depart, a sight that made his gut feel heavy, then rode for the other end of the meadow. With Verdian’s gift clutched in his hand, he dismounted and made a beeline for Mareleau’s tent. Her three ladies caught sight of him and dipped into hasty curtsies.
“Majesty,” Breah said, eyes wide, “the queen is inside, but?—”
He didn’t let her finish. Ignoring their flustered warnings, he charged into the tent, his heart racing with every step.
The air was heavy inside, even warmer than the outdoor summer temperature, infused with jasmine-scented steam. It wafted from a copper basin at the center of the tent. And in it was his wife.
She bolted upright when she saw him, rising from the tub in a rush. “Larylis!”
He pulled up short, eyes falling on her bare torso, taking in the rivulets of water trailing down her neck, her breasts, the planes of her stomach. He’d known she was bathing. Known she’d likely be naked. But seeing her like this, the surprise on her face, followed by the way she immediately sank back into the tub, filled him with an aching sense of self-awareness.
He turned abruptly around. “I’m sorry,” he called over his shoulder, not daring to look at her. “I thought you’d be behind a screen.”
He heard nothing in reply, only the pounding of his heart.
Seven devils, had he embarrassed her? Offended her?
He’d been too caught in his worry, his passion, his desperation to see her, that he hadn’t stopped to consider one important thing: that even though they’d loved each other for years and were now married, their relationship was still new in many ways. They’d been estranged for longer than they’d been lovers and had spent most of their marriage apart. While Larylis was confident when writing love letters, able to bare his soul and express the depths of his heart behind the safety of a quill and paper, he suddenly found himself feeling very much tongue-tied and vulnerable. How was he supposed to act with her in person? Could he voice aloud the things he’d said in his letters?
As for seeing her naked…well, they’d only been wholly intimate once. That hardly granted him permission to barge in on her while she was bathing. What had he been thinking? Still, the memory of their single night of passion surged through him now, mingling with the sight of seeing her in the tub. It sent heat coursing through him that he wasn’t sure was entirely appropriate in this moment. Never before had he felt less like a king and more like a fool.
He swallowed hard and took a step forward, prepared to bolt from the tent?—
“Larylis.” This time Mareleau’s voice held no surprise, only softness. “Turn around, you idiot.”
