That explanation… is not quite adding up. I hold back a sigh. “I’ll be there. Is this also Princess Carys’s request?”
“Twilight. Don’t forget.” Then he steps around me and marches off like the soldier he is, leaving me to continue my quest for tea.
Looking at Princess Carys proves to be more difficult than I’d expected. At least Callum isn’t with her, otherwise I’m not entirely sure how I would handle it. The images from last night’s dream are so vivid that each time I meet Princess Carys’s gaze, I want to cringe.
“What is wrong with you today?” she demands.
I wish I knew. “Just tired,” I tell her. “And my fingers are a bit sore.” It isn’t a lie. She holds the bodice in place against her body while I pin the unsewn side. It fits perfectly, the dark fibers making the foliage motif of the lace appear more abstract. I glance up at her and there’s evident uncertainty on her face. “I know it’s hard to envision, but…” I consider my next words carefully. “There will be a sheer material underneath since the stitch is so open.”
She doesn’t respond.
“I’ll start on the sleeves later today—same lace motif. Then the lower portion of the dress will be made from purple silk.”
Her lips purse with focus as she tries to imagine it.
“It’s all coming together. I hope that puts you a little more at ease?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and I recoil slightly. But it’s not anger I find in her expression. It’s something softer that I can’t quite put my finger on. “I appreciate it,” she says. “I barged in here like a beast and you laid out a plan for me with the grace of a… queen.” She chuckles and I find myself smiling.
“I know what it’s like to be weary of the unknown,” I tell her. “It’s terrifying. I’m sure royal blood doesn’t make you immune to fear.”
She scoffs. “I wish it did.”
I keep the bodice pinned on the side and step around her to remove the pins from the back. As soon as I slide the material off, she spins to face me. “Come to the Feast.”
I blink to keep from gawking at her. Surely, I’ve misunderstood. “Me?”
“There’s nobody else here.” She makes a point of looking around dramatically. “Lowri, Ellynne, and Callum will be there as well. Tiernan will be my guard for the night—his choice. There are many guests invited; it will be truly something.”
Speaking of fear of the unknown… “That all sounds very intriguing, Princess, but?—”
“Don’t make meorderyou to attend.” There’s a coldness in her stare.
I swallow. “After the Feast, am I still allowed to return to my home in Cluain Baile? If you’re happy with your dress, that is.”
Something shifts in her expression for a brief moment and her shoulders sag, but she says, “Correct. Make the dress of my dreams, come to the Feast, and you may go home. Do we have an accord?”
I smile and nod. “We have an accord.” As I lay the bodice out on the bed again, I keep my focus on her. Something in her golden gaze is distant, haunted. “Are you alright, Princess?”
This snaps her out of things. Her long lashes flutter. “Durvla… can I trust you?”
“Yes.” Why does she ask?
“You do seem like the trustworthy type.” She smiles, but there’s a sadness to it. I wait for her to say more, but she just turns and heads toward the door. If she says anything before stepping out into the corridor, I have no idea. Just as I have no idea what’s really on her mind.
As the sun begins to set, I place my work aside and stand from the bed. My legs are stiff, as are my wrists and my incredibly sore fingers. I don’t remember when I last had a sip of water or used the commode. I take care of my immediate needs and guzzle down a goblet of water beforemaking my way to the stables. Kilkenny is there with both horses saddled and bridled.
“You’re late,” he says.
I bite my lower lip to keep from telling him that he didn’t give me an actual time. Instead, I pointedly look to the horizon, to the glow of the slumbering sun, the sliver of the crescent moon high in the dark blue sky. Kilkenny taps me impatiently on the shoulder and gestures to Mirren before mounting Ghendor.
Centering myself with a deep breath, I make my customary, graceless climb onto Mirren’s back. I’ve become better at mounting the mare, but gracefulness has never been a strong suit for me.
Kilkenny doesn’t say anything, nudging Ghendor into a canter with his inner thighs.
“A man of many words,” I mumble under my breath as I follow.
Kilkenny glances over his shoulder at me and I go stiff, making Mirren veer off slightly. Did he hear that? I gently pat Mirren’s neck. “Sorry, girl.”
