‘Come, slip it on, then I’ll tighten it and fix your hair for you.’
I do as she suggests, stepping into the ballgown. The fabric is insanely soft, and as she pulls the ties tight around the waist, I can’t help but gaze at my reflection. No, it’s not like Llin’s creations at all, but there is something almost regal about it. Fit for a princess, I let myself think, before hastily pushing the thought aside.
My heart aches for Llin. I wish she was here, holding a dagger and taking it to my dress with a wicked gleam in her eye. Almost immediately my thoughts wander to how Caroline is coping and if she still blames me for her loss. I do.
When the dress is on, I struggle not to gawp at the finished look. I truly do look like a princess. I try not to imagine myself on Kyor’s arm, yet no matter what I do, the image refuses to go away. Korvane hates my family, yes, but only because he believes in my mother’s supposed misdeeds. Now that my powers and status have been restored, there’s nothing to stop Kyor from sharing the truth with his father. Once he does that, the final barrier to our future will fall away.
Though even the limits of my imagination can’t envision cosy dinners with Korvane. The man who ruined us all. Whose actions led to my parents’ deaths … but maybe I just need time, too. Maybe there is more to him than the cruel man I’ve seen. I hope so, for Kyor’s sake.
‘Come, sit down.’ The maid leads me over to the dressing table where she starts to brush my hair the moment I’ve taken a seat. ‘You love the prince very much, don’t you, my lady?’
I blink. That’s not the small talk I was expecting. My eyes tilt upwards, catching hers in the reflection. Was I thinking my thoughts out loud? Or were they simply written all over my face?
She smiles gently. ‘I was here earlier,’ she explains. ‘When the princewas with you. And he looked at you with such adoration. I imagine it must feel incredible to have someone look at you like that.’ She sounds wistful and is giving me such a knowing smile that I feel vaguely uncomfortable. Korvane no doubt has spies everywhere, and the familiarity with which she’s speaking to me is not normal for any maid. Is she trying to entrap me into saying something damaging?
‘The prince is a good man,’ I murmur, evading the question, and she combs a thin wax into my hair to assist with the styling.
‘I have an idea for a style,’ she says, twisting a strand of damp hair around her finger. ‘A style I know the prince will love.’
She takes several pieces from the front, curling them into deep spirals. It’s not a look I’d normally go for with my frizzy hair, but I have to admit, it suits me more than I expected. We sit in silence as she works, twisting and twirling my hair expertly.
‘You are lucky to have someone like him you can trust so well,’ she says again after a long moment.
This time my jaw tightens. I’m not saying that me defeating fifty other trained warriors to win the Retterheld should be what this woman wishes to discuss, but she is clearly more interested in Kyor than my achievements, and that’s ringing all my alarm bells.
‘As I said, he is a good man,’ I repeat, hoping my curt tone will be enough to dissuade her from her prying.
‘Yes. And so misunderstood, too,’ she continues nonetheless. ‘But I suspect you understand him. Don’t you, my lady?’
I open my mouth, not sure how to respond, when something flutters down from the woman’s hand. A piece of paper lands by my foot.
‘Oh, sorry, my lady,’ she says, though her tone is guileless and says she is anything but. The paper is far easier for me to pick up as I’m sitting, so I reach for it. As I take hold of it, the corner starts to unfold and the edges of a charcoal image become visible.
My pulse quickens. What is this? Has she got hold of one of the images Kyor drew of me? Is this a blackmail attempt?
The maid stands still behind me.
‘See for yourself, my lady,’ she commands, tone unlike any maid I’ve ever met.
Unable to do otherwise, I obey.
My hands tremble as I unfold the paper, and my eyes lock on the image in front of me. Just as I expected, it’s one of Kyor’s pictures. The perfectly drawn proportions, the detail in the eyes … I know his style perfectly, just as I know the bed the female figure lies upon. It is the one in the kitchen of the barracks. The place he told me he had used as a sanctuary long before the Retterheld even began. I thought I was the first he’d welcomed into his inner sanctum, but evidently not. For while I know both the style and the location of the image, what I do not know is the woman who is the subject of his art. It’s certainly not me, and that’s a punch to the gut in and of itself.
As I study the unknown woman, her familiarity niggles at me.
She lies there, arms outstretched, smiling gracefully as the blanket discreetly covers the top of her chest. Her hair falls in lazy curls, almost identical to the ones the maid has teased mine into. The look of pure bliss on her face, and those eyes … I lift my gaze back to the mirror, to the reflection of the maid. A gasp sounds in my throat.
She has dropped her hat, letting the full length of her hair fall down past her shoulders. It is not dark like that of the woman in the picture. Nor like her sister’s was when she was still alive. It is the same tone as mine. White-blonde and stripped of colour, just like she was stripped of her magic.
‘Thea.’ I choke on the name of Estel’s sister as tears burn my eyes. Thea, who was stripped of magic and cast out, all for the perfidy of having the gall to fall pregnant with Kyor’s child.
As I gape at the subject of Kyor’s picture, now here in my very presence, her lips twist into a sneer. ‘He told me he loved me, too. Whatever he has told you, whatever he has made you believe, he will never choose you. He is just a spoiled rich boy, forever tethered to his narcissistic brute of a father. And you will never come before his king and crown. It’s better you learn that lesson now than when it’s too late.’
My chest is so tight I can barely draw breath. This can’t be real. Can it?
I stare at the picture, yet it blurs as tears begin to fall. He drew her like he drew me. Has lain with her in the bed I considered my sanctuary.
As I struggle to ease the trembling in my lungs, Thea pulls the paper from my loose hand. ‘I know I may seem cruel now,’ she says, ‘but I’m doing you a favour, Rose Kultavaris. You have your powers back. Don’t lose them again for him.’
