Cole beamed—a gory sight at the moment. “I’m glad she makes you happy, Girion.”
Chapter Six
Everything she needs, then everything she wants.
The Queen’s robes. His mother’s robes.
A gift from family of old to new family—that was special in any household, from palaces to hovels.
She had her brother Amos’ talisman, the one she’d made for him when she was twelve. It was supposed to keep him safe. Of course, he hadn’t been wearing it the day he died. Of course, she hadn’t reminded him, either.
She blinked away painful thoughts, thoughts of guilt, of not doing enough to save either brother, but especially not Amos. She should have done better after one loss. Should have prevented the second.
The talisman, wood and leather, was in her bundle of things, something to remember him by, and now she had an overwhelming desire to give it to Girion instead, some act of gratitude, however small, to thank him for all of this.
“All of this” was too much to truly take in when you have lived from hand to mouth, magic or no. Fine food and fabrics whirled around her, the massive room with still more smaller rooms inside of it opened before her eyes, and logs blazed in a hearth taller than her.
Luxury. For simply adding my name to his household, healing the land and warming the people—things I have always tried to do, whether it was a spare bowl of stew for a fisherman with a poor catch or putting the fishbones back in the soil—when we could break down the ice enough to open the dirt beneath.
It still felt wrong to be here, legs stuck out and toes pointing to a roaring fire, people refilling her cups and plates as if she’d lost use of her hands.
And bowing.
She would never get used to the bowing.
“When you are done eating, Mistress Jocasta, will you allow me to take some measurements? If you will, then we can have a selection of gowns for you in the morning.”
The old man with a bent back and bushy eyebrows nodded to her, and she put down her spoon. “Let’s do it now. People shouldn’t be kept waiting. It’s late. In the morning, you say? Goodness, isn’t it nearly morning already?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Jocasta shed layers and layers. People took them and informed her they would be washed and dried.
When she was stripped down to her underthings—faded cream-colored cotton under leggings that covered her from waist to knees, and an undershirt that laced tight under the bust and tucked into her bottoms—one of the ladies with the old man attacked with a measuring string, darting around her like a tern spotting a fish, nipping it around her neck, her bust, her waist, and then running it down the sides of her legs and arms.
“Nightwear! Slippers! Linens!” For such a genteel voice used in addressing her, the man with the key and the stoop could bark out orders like a general. People flurried.
“Hot bath! Bed turned down! Lamps lit.” A snap of his fingers, and they scattered like seabirds when a seal breaks the surface.
Fine, warm flannel gowns for underneath, and satin layers to place over top appeared on the opulent bed. Slippers that were soft and warm as a snuggling rabbit were thrust onto her feet, and heeled slippers with silver buckles and fine fabric were left under the bed. Hot irons wrapped in cloth were put at thebottom of said bed, and steam poured and rolled out of the room closest to the hearth.
“Do you wish an attendant?”
“To bathe and dress? No, I’m not sick,” Jocasta looked stunned at the idea.
“Then we will see you for breakfast, and I will remain near your chambers in case you need anything,” Herrick said.
Herrick was a giant of a man with a short red beard, green eyes, and a hard jaw.
Jocasta smiled. Nothing was getting into her room—unless it was the king.
Girion the Great. They called him that for a reason. A mountain of a man...
“May I beg a favor of our guest?” Cole’s voice drifted in as servants filed out, taking all of her used dishes and cutlery, leaving wine, water, cheese, and nuts behind on the table.
“Goodness! What happened?” Jocasta, now wrapped in a robe of deepest blue with tiny gold threads dancing through it, looked at the bloodied Captain of the Guard in surprise.
“I ran into something. Girion thought that maybe you might be able to...”
