Gods be damned, I’ve seen what he can do with those hips too.
“Good morning.” A slow smile spreads across his lips.
I take a deep breath and vanquish any lustful thoughts as I tear my gaze away from his mouth.
Giggles sound behind me as the sisters exit the bedchamber. Lowri holds her hand over her mouth to contain more giggles, and Ellynne winks at me. I roll my eyes though I’m unable to stop the small smirk that slips past my stony exterior. Both women curtsy before dashing away, and my attention snaps back to Callum.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks.
“No, but let’s do this.”
Understanding crosses his face.
Visits to my mother’s chamber have been increasingly gloomy lately. I look forward to reading with her—or more likelytoher. As much as it pains me having to face her, it’s always refreshing to escape into this book of fairytales where sprites and merrow exist.
Callum extends his hand away from me, as if introducing me to the large corridor. We follow the winding passageway, my heels clacking against the tiles as we walk beneath high stone arches. The hallway opens into the busy concourse where numerous nobles and servants mill about. Ornate stone columns support a massive archway and a foreboding double door leading to the royal chambers. I lift my chin and throw back my shoulders, plowing on across the concourse, acknowledging each greeting with a curt nod.
Just once, I would like to walk these halls without having to interact with others. Without anything being expected of me.
The guards let us through the double door, allowing us into a private hallway. It’s another trek through several winding corridorsbefore we arrive at an immense carved door at the very end. Two pairs of guards stand watch, all dressed in maroon. Each wears a black sash with gold embroidery of the sun eclipsing a crown turned on its side. Queen’s Guards. All four bow to me before two stand aside while one of the other two opens the door.
As Callum and I enter my mother’s bedchamber, I’m hit with the stench of tonic herbs and an odor I can’t describe. It seems like hundreds of candles fill the great space, their flames swaying eerily against the floral designs painted on the walls. The fireplace crackles, exuding a suffocating heat in addition to all the candles.
“Good morning, Princess,” says Iywan.
I turn my attention to my royal advisor—the queen’s friend and right hand. Iywan is tall and slender, with grey hair slicked back and braided at the nape of his neck. His umber skin is a map of wrinkles, and his dark brown eyes are steady and wiser than his sixty years. Once upon a time, he’d been like a second father to me, but we grew apart over this past year. The sight of him makes my stomach sink. He bows, and I frown at him.
“Why are there so many bloody candles in here? It’s hotter than Lugda’s balls.”
I swear his eye twitches.
Language, I remind myself.
“We’re hoping to sweat the sickness out,” Iywan says. “Briony has informed me that it’s a simple yet effective cure.”
“Who’s Byney?”
A thin young woman with icy blue eyes and a small, upturned nose stands from my mother’s bed. Sandy brown hair frames her long face. I’ve never seen her before. A porcelain bowl against her chest catches my attention.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” she says. Her voice is quiet, but not at all timid. “I’m the new healer’s apprentice.”
Alys didn’t tell me anything about a new apprentice. I wave my hand. “You can go now.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” The healer’s apprentice curtsies and strides past Callum with sure steps.
My mother is asleep in an enormous four-poster bed with heavy canopies of deep maroon draped all around her. She’s covered up to her neck in quilted fabric and even her pallor is flushed, her skin beaded with sweat. My heart tugs painfully. Even her once golden hair is rapidly turning silver, as if her sickness is leeching the pigment.
I sit beside her and place the book on my lap. “Good day, Mother.”
The healers have already informed us that whatever is ailing her is not contagious, so I lean over to kiss her sweaty brow. She doesn’t even stir. A dull ache settles in my chest, but I force myself to take a breath. I need to be brave. For her.
“I’ve brought our favorite book. What shall we read today?”
Still no response. It’s bizarre. Normally she wakes, if even for just one tale. Why in Rhianu’s name is she not waking up?
I glance toward Iywan who’s standing aside respectfully. “What was in that bowl?” There’s no hiding the blame in my voice.
“I requested that Briony give her valbane. Your mother was in a great deal of pain.”
