“Amaris.”
The only people allowed in the throne room had been soldiers, and they’d been given a direct order to keep the accusations against her within the confines of the army. No one was to know of her identity until his father was satisfied and made his decision. She would be under guard at all hours of the day and locked in her room at night. Bennet disagreed, but his father provided a valid point. If the people of Luana Bay believed thenew mystique was being investigated for murder, they wouldn’t seek her out for medical attention.
“She is to be the new mystique,” Theo added.
Pricilla released a deep sigh. “I knew this was only temporary, but I didn’t think the duke would find a replacement so soon. I haven’t even had time to organize Cornelius’s possessions.”
Theo gazed around the filthy room and the large pile of chests and bins yet to been cleaned out. Cornelius had never been one to care about the cleanliness of his study, and upon his death, the room further fell into disarray.
“Her wound has festered. I can use the yuxiway leaves and assess as she heals,” she said, pulling back his attention.
“Will she lose her hand?” Theo had had a soldier under his charge who’d been shot with a rifle. The injury had become inflamed, and they’d been behind enemy lines and without proper herbs to tend to it or the ability to remove the musket ball. He’d ended up losing part of his leg when they’d returned to camp.
Pricilla offered a gentle smile. “It’s always a possibility, but I wouldn’t think so.” She strode to the wall of shelves with jars upon jars of herbs.
Theo left her to collect the necessary items. He didn’t know how to begin identifying herbs. He was only familiar with fade chicory and its ability to stanch bleeding. It’d been the only herb they carried with them on missions.
Theo took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs by the hearth, across from Amaris. He studied her hand but found his eyes wandering to her face with the cut and bruise on her cheek. Initially, the cut had appeared like the other scrapes across her arms, but with the newly sprouted bruise, it told a different tale.A strike to the face?He cocked his head and further studied the cut.Maybe from a ring.
“Crack in the realm,” Pricilla muttered from across the room.
“What is it?” Theo shot from the chair.
“I’m out of ude stalk.” She planted her hands on her hips, shifting the white dress spilling to her shins and marking her as a servant. With a sigh, she grabbed a bowl off the counter and placed it under his chin. “Spit into this.”
“You want me to do what?” The bowl was filled with crushed-up leaves resembling a small pile of dirt.
“I don’t have any more ude stalk to give the leaves the consistency I need.”
“Why don’t you do it?” He threw back at her.
She thinned her lips and eyed a glass bowl on the worktable.
“Is your throat dry from smoking uppaway, Pricilla?” Theo teased.
She scoffed, “If I’m not mistaken, it used to be a fun pastime of yours.”
Theo dipped his chin and spat into the bowl. Pricilla narrowed her eyes, and at this distance, a thin red ring lined her irises. She whisked the bowl away and blended the concoction furiously.
“Grab the linen from the table,” she ordered.
As she kneeled beside Amaris and began rubbing the mixture onto her hand, Theo crossed the room to the worktable. He smiled at the rolled leaf resting in the glass tray, long since extinguished. After he officially became a soldier, he’d elected to avoid the herb to keep a clear head at all times. He found the small cloth squares set in a basket with several rolls of linen, but his eyes stopped on her book.
“What are you reading?” he asked, admiring the large text with vivid colors.
“A bit of light reading,” Pricilla said without a glance over her shoulder.
Theo would hardly call the massive booklight.A beautiful ocean was painted across both pages, with a small vessel floating on the surface.
He went to turn the page, but his eyes caught a smaller tome open on the edge of the worktable. It was written in the old Gorrin language. He skimmed the open page but stopped on the phraseaslorn per cuitnun.Isabel had been speaking Gorrin. He recognizedper cuitnun. It meant “for cover,” butaslornremained a mystery.
“Pricilla, what doesaslornmean?”
“Brace.”
“Brace for cover?”
“Captain, quit reading and bring me the bandages,” she huffed.
