Shoulders back, standing tall, I feigned belonging as I entered what appeared to be a greeting room of sorts. It was a large rectangular room; the marble floors were carried in from the courtyard. Chandeliers hung overhead, their dripping beeswax candles that lent the room warmth. Gold filigree trimmed the room along the base of the walls and met with thefaintly domed ceiling in a purposeful uniformity that added to the elegance of the space.
“The castle interior is for the King’s family and guests only.”
Clenching my teeth, I looked over my shoulder. I’d been caught. The women ahead of me gave no notice to the exchange and disappeared down a hall. Likely the wives or daughters of a lord, then.
The dark-haired boy from before had a blank expression. Beside him, a boy a few years older—perhaps ten or twelve—with fair blond hair and round green eyes held my gaze with studying intensity. Dressed in fine clothes and clean-faced, the children were more put together than most adult men from my village.
I adjusted my mask and feigned ignorance. “I was just looking for a place away from the fray to sit for a moment. I’m feeling a bit faint.”
The fair-haired boy considered a moment, then nodded to a seating area near the center of the room. “Watch her,” he said to the dark-haired boy and dismissed himself into the courtyard.
Pushing past the idea of being watched by a child, I made my way to a tufted velvet upholstered chair and took a seat.Heavenly.The emerald fabric gave with just the right amount of cushion under my weight and, strangely, smelled almost floral. I looked around and caught sight of a bronze bowl perforated with pinprick holes atop its decorative lid. A potpourri dish.
I detected lavender and orris root, perhaps. Letting the healer’s curiosity get the best of me, I leaned forward and lifted the lid from the small container to study the dried plants within.
“What are you doing?”
The boy’s voice just behind my shoulder took me off guard, and I started, knocking over the brass dish and spilling the contents across the glass tabletop and onto the marble flooring. I squeaked, a terribly unladylike little sound.
“Gods, you startled me.” I held a hand to my heart.What am I doing?
“You don’t belong here,” the boy observed, cocking his head as he addressed my outfit.
Little prick.I narrowed my eyes.
A door opened, drawing both of our attention. The guard from before, his silver hair tousled and his jaw set, stepped out from a side room. He was not old, as I had suspected by the coloring of his hair. Perhaps mid or late twenties. His dark uniform fit perfectly to his body, suggesting concealed muscles beneath. Gods, he was handsome.
A woman’s voice stopped him, and he looked over his shoulder and adjusted the cloth of his collar as she came into view. Her gown was elegant and threaded with jewels that glistened in the chandelier’s light. Her gloved hands went to the belt about the guard’s waist, and he cast his eyes down as he spoke beneath his breath.
Casually, I stretched my legs out and slouched lower in my chair. Perhaps the carver was correct; obscurity could be quite the advantage. The boy beside my chair looked down at me with pinched brows and a marked look of judgment. Choosing maturity, I scrunched my nose at him.
“Calix,” the woman’s voice came again, calm and laced with the faintest tone of authority. Motherly, almost, with a lyrical quality.
The boy beside me raised his chin.
I slunk lower in my chair and chewed on my bottom lip.
“Fetch the commander,” the woman instructed. “I must have a word with him.”
Calix glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, and a faint frown tugged at his mouth.
Approaching steps rapped along the floor, and I formed silent curses with my lips.
“A commoner,” Calix said as the woman joined us. Hunched as I was, slid down in the velvet chair, I gaped my mouth to speak, then shut it again. “She was faint.”
Remembering my excuse from before, I rather unceremoniously scooted my bottom back in the seat to sit higher, then straightened my skirts.
“Go, Calix,” the woman said, tone level. The green hazel of her eyes stood out amid the dark curls of hair that framed her angled face. “Find the commander, bring him here.”
Without another word, the boy bowed his head and made his leave, entirely too composed and polite for a child his age.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the woman standing just to my side. Her eyes flicked to the mess of potpourri, then back to me.
A considering expression crossed her face. “You do not know who I am.”
I shook my head.
The reservation in the woman’s eyes faded, and she released a breath. It was a simple gesture, yet with it, the tension in the air fell away. Despite the woman’s gown, which undoubtedly proved her to be a lady of high standing, she felt markedly human and relatable.
