“Don’t bother with Kelrean. He’s charming, sure, but also the most conceited person I’ve ever met. He’ll sleep with any woman who has legs.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” I laugh. “I don’t have time to sleep with charming, conceited princes right now. My mind is much too crowded with the idea of my sister being on the brink of death.”
“Well, just so you know, this fete is all about drinking and partying. Good times are bound to happen.” Her eyebrows do a little wiggle. “It’s easy to slip up and do things you never thought you’d do.”
“Have you been to one of the fetes before?”
“Only once. That was enough for me.”
“So you’re not going tonight?” I ask.
“No. I’ll probably have a bath, then find a place to practice with my scythesword afterward.”
I’m a little disappointed to hear that. I was hoping to hang out with her a bit more. “You should have some fun, Rynthea. At least while we’re stuck here waiting for the king to give us the details about The Shallows.”
She turns to fully face me, seeming disheartened. “You probably haven’t noticed, but a lot of beastials aren’t partial to minotaurs.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Because they know how sacred we are. Envy, I think, and also greed. Whatever their reasons, they hold bias against us. I’ve visited Bernwood three times. The last time I came was about two years ago to obtain medicines for Torjack. I traveled to the borders, so it took longer to get here, and because the trip was so long, I stayed a few days in the city to rest. While I was here, a group of beastials attacked me in an alley and called me an abomination. They broke two of my ribs, one of my fingers, and nearly broke off one of my horns. If Sheera hadn’t shown up to stop the attack, I’m certain I would’ve died and that horn would’ve been sold.”
“Oh, Rynthea. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was like that for you or other minotaurs.” I shift closer to her, wanting to hug her, but she turns her body sideways and her shoulders tense, like a hug is the last thing she wants. “I always assumed minotaurs are highly respected among the beastials.”
“We used to be. But when our numbers dwindled and the healing properties in our horns became more important than our existence, we became nothing more than prey to many.” Her head drops as she studies the hardwood floors. “There was a time when beastials used to look out for each other. There was hope, you know? But now? Now, we just turn against one another for something as simple as a coin. It’s beastials who’ll sell each other out quicker than the mortals will.”
I stare at her, unsure of what to say. The chandeliers highlight her thick, pointed horns as she lifts her chin and draws in a breath.
“Anyway.” She exhales through parted lips. “Enough about that. You should know that I won’t be able to thank you enough for saving me in that swamp, Zaira. King Draedor is right. Youarenoble.” She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I pray to Orvena you never lose your principles.”
She smiles, and my heart warms for her. Rynthea truly is beautiful. She appears so strong—so indestructible—yet there is a softness to her. One that makes me want to get to know even more about her.
I place my hand on top of hers. “Get some rest, Rynthea.”
With sagging shoulders, she enters her chamber and shuts the door behind her.
I don’t allow myself much time to take in the silk curtains and oversize canopied bed when I step into my room. The moon has made its debut, and its silvery light floods through the double doors leading to a stone terrace.
I drop my rucksack on the floor, not daring to touch anything for fear I’ll soil it with the stench of swamp monster.
Now that I have a moment to myself, my thoughts are much louder. I think of Analla trapped in Seferin’s keep, of her fear as she realizes her life is coming to an end. Is he feeding her at least? Giving her water? He can’t bethatcruel to deprive her of mortal necessities, can he?
My hands shake as I recall the attack in Kamtaur, the swamp monster, and Dulan’s death. The urge to cry is at an all-time high, but I swallow it down and lift my head.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Come on, Z. Pull it together.”
I make my way to the washroom to start a bath, cleaning myself up thoroughly by using the luxurious soap that smells of lavender and a hint of spice. I give my hair a good wash, too, threading my fingers through the thick curls to detangle them before I comb out most of the kinks. Afterward, I moisturize it with a smooth hair butter that makes my curls look luxurious.
“Wow,” I murmur, studying the glass container of hair butter. “Royals have the best hair products.”
The queen mentioned there being clothes we could select in the wardrobes. I didn’t expect them to be filled to the brim with gowns, skirts, corsets, and bodices.
There are too many options to choose from. A person living in this castle is one thing. But deciding what to wear on a daily basis is another entirely and has to be mind-boggling.All the garments are high quality and bursting with color.
Since it’s the night of the fete, I decidenotto go with my usual leggings, tunic, and earth tones and instead pluck out an ivory underdress with threaded gold-and-purple flowers embellishing the hem. It pairs well with a rich purple bodice and overskirt that’s laced with delicate gold ribbons.
I slip my arms into the billowy sleeves of the underdress, then put on the underskirt, allowing it to flow in waves to my feet. Next, I toss on the bodice and tie it as tightly and comfortably as possible.
Standing before one of the mirrors, I grab a handful of the skirts and twirl around with a grin. I’ve never worn a gown this lavish—so vibrant and full of life. I could never afford one as gorgeous as this.
