Ellynne smirks. “He’s a tad sullen, admittedly, but handsome, don’t you think?”
That one is hard to deny.Walk.Ineedto walk.
Ellynne lays a gentle hand on my shoulder and the dim lighting muddles her words. “… a drink. Come.” She starts to walk, heading in the opposite direction of where Kilkenny went. Turning back to me she gestures with her hand. “Come on. A bit of … help … sleep.”
My heart lurches; I hate this dim lighting. Even worse, Ellynne links her arm with mine and sets off for toward the kitchen. Being so close makes it even harder for me to catch the movements of her lips when she’s talking while facing forward.
She rambles on about something as we make our way to the dining hall, and by the time we step into the unoccupied chamber, I’m almost certain it’s glaringly obvious that I haven’t heard a word. Is this where my time here ends? Where I get sent to the brig to await my death sentence? But Ellynne only beams at me and relinquishes my arm, holding her hand out to the door that leads to the kitchen.
I suppose she didn’tnotice after all. Thank the gods.
On one side of the kitchen is an arch of white bricks—the maw of a large wood-burning oven. Tall wooden tables line either side of the room, and the walls are adorned with a plethora of copper pots and pans hanging on hooks.
In this late hour there’s no aroma of freshly cooked food, the oven is unlit, but the room is well-illuminated with oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and on the walls. The kitchen is empty save for a woman, her honey blond braid resting between her shoulder blades. She turns to face us as we enter the kitchen, her round eyes growing even wider.
Ellynne says something to her and Eefa grins and utters something about “scrummy leftovers.” She chuckles and digs into the large pockets of her apron, producing two apples. “I snagged the last four … baked with honey … sweet on their own.” She steps forward and holds a bright red apple that is clearly not baked with honey…
Over the years, I’ve learned that reading lips is rarely perfect and not always reliable, but context clues and body language can speak louder. It’s incredible how many things I’ve caught that were lost on me before I started losing my hearing—the tiniest tic of the jaw, the briefest wince, the subtle clenching of a fist, and even the way someone stands in the presence of different people.
I’ve been in Eefa’s vicinity a few times for meals, and I’ve seen how Carys’s posture always changes in her presence—as if she’s overcompensating to appear rigid. Around Carys, Eefa is beyond comfortable, daring even, and with a permanent smirk on her lips as though she’s keeping an inside joke to herself.
“How goes the dressmaking?” she asks, as if we’re old friends.
Unease takes hold of my stomach, and I swallow as I slide my finger awkwardly over my bare wrist. Between the dream, running into Kilkenny, and Ellynne’s questions about feelings I don’t have for him, I’d almost completely forgotten about my sole purpose here in Paramount. I forgot that I don’t belong here. That the very reason for my existence is in Cluain Baile. I need to keep that in mind.
Eefa shifts her attention to Ellynne, asking her something about me.
“Still adjusting to castle life,” Ellynne says with a smile.
Eefa grins. “Well, some lemon cake may help. There’s only one slice left though. I’ll leave the pair of you to fight over that.” Then to Ellynne, she asks, “Is Princess Carys awake?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t go to her now if I were you.”
“Oh…” Eefa says, but there is no disappointment on her face. Only intrigue.
Clearly, I’ve missed something.
“Good night, ladies. Enjoy the apples and the lemon cake.” She fishes another apple from her pocket, tosses it into the air and catches it before taking a massive bite. She walks off, hips swaying.
Ellynne lets Eefa walk away, then turns back to me, her forehead creased. “I should head back but help yourself to the last slice of lemon cake.”
“Alright,” I say, trying to hide my confusion. I want to ask her why she’s suddenly in such a rush to leave, but I don’t bother. “Thank you.”
“Sweet dreams, Durvla,” she says before rushing off.
Sunlagh, spare me. No more dreams, please.
CHAPTER 26
Carys
After wakingfrom a racy masquerade-themed dream about Callum, I fetched him from his post to bring my fantasies to life. The reality was far better.
“I wish life could always be this simple,” I murmur.
Callum gets out of bed and collects his trousers and briefs from the floor. “What do you mean?”
I roll onto my side, resting my head against my palm, my elbow propping me up. I stare at Callum’s toned body. “I mean… this.”
