The keeper, who Kythel had assigned as my guard, strode away, giving Grace and me a little space as her eyes practically bugged out of her head.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “Betrayed yourwhat? What in the world are you talking about, Millie?”
She looked genuinely puzzled, which made me falter for a brief moment. For all her flaws, Grace wasn’t a liar. Or, at least, I hadn’t believed she was. Then again, she’d hidden her relationship with Vraad and his wife at thedyaanfor who knew how long.
“The letters,” I said. “My father’s private letters. Lesana told me you showed them to her—she knew all about my father and Ruaala. That you both thought they were pathetic and that you laughed about them.”
Grace’s lips parted and then closed. Parted and then closed.
Then she exploded, her cheeks burning a bright red. “Are you fucking kidding me, Millie? You know I hated that bitch. Why would I show your letters toherwhenyouwere my friend? I would never do that!”
More doubt crept into my mind. Freezing, I asked, “You…didn’t?”
“No,” she bit out sharply. She crossed her arms over her chest, one of the wildflowers escaping her basket with the agitated movement. “Of course not.”
Now she was mad. Angry at me for thinking the worst of her, for believing Lesana over her.
“Then how did she know about the letters?” I asked, my shoulders dropping. I supposed it didn’t even matter now. Lesana and RaanaDyaanseemed like ages ago. Just like the cottage, I would need to move forward. “Gods, I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know why…I don’t know why I believed her.”
“Because she has a way of sounding very convincing. Believe me, I understand how she can be. It’s why I never trusted her. I’ve known females like her my whole life.”
Crouching down, though the tight, tender skin around my knees protested, I gathered up the fallen wildflower, a cornflower-blue bloom, and tucked it safely back into Grace’s basket.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking in her pressed lips and flickering eyes. “I’m sorry, Grace. Please forgive me. For thinking the worst, for not evenconsideringthat she might have been lying.”
Grace’s shoulders dropped, and she let out a harsh sigh.
“Like I could ever stay mad at you, Millie,” she finally said. “Even when I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
Hesitantly, I reached out my hand, and she took it, squeezing softly, which made me wince a little, considering it was still healing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Grace said, ire already forgotten, concerned. Stepping forward, she gingerly touched my shoulder and asked quietly, “What happened, Millie?”
“Long story,” I said, giving her a tired smile.
“I’m free all day,” she offered, casting a look over at Kelan. “Are you?”
Erzan Inn could wait, I supposed.
And I’d missed my friend, even though the guilt at thinking the worst still pricked in my mind.
“Yes, I am.”
“My home isn’t too far away,” she said. “I have your favorite steam cakes.”
I smiled. “As if I could say no to those.”
* * *
Grace leanedback against the wall of her window seat, which looked out over a small patch of meadow, filled with blooms. She made a beautiful portrait, her dress hanging loosely, her knee drawn up, flashing the side of her smooth calf. I spied small bite marks along her throat—two on both sides.
Her home was everything I wanted myself. Something small, cozy, safe. The inside was comfortably furnished with feminine patterns and materials and soft colors that made the front room feel bright and airy.
I was sitting at the table, decorated in intricate white lace, a small platter of steam cakes sitting perched in the very middle, though as I’d recounted the last month of my life to Grace, they’d hardly been touched.
With my good hand, I cradled a warm cup of flower-stem tea, the taste pleasantly sweet, and I couldn’t help but think it would go wonderfully with a small dash ofkannospice and a squeeze ofsyaan-berry juice.
“My gods, Millie,” Grace said. She wasn’t smiling. She was…thunderstruck. And that wasn’t an expression I’d witnessed on her features often. “Do you know who did it?”
