He nodded. “Give her a room and see she gets something to eat and fresh clothes. I’ll be back shortly.” Then to Leya, “You need anything, just ask.”
He walked out through the open kitchen door.
The woman, Jisele, shook her head. “Another of his ladies?” she murmured. “Does he think I’m here to cater to their whims?”
The words were soft, but Leya heard. “What? Oh, no! I’m—” Dammit, what could she say, given the need for secrecy? “I’m a friend.”
The woman’s steel blue eyes slid down Leya’s disheveled form to her mud-covered boots and up to linger on her grimy hands and nails before settling on her throbbing cheek.
Ugh, she must look a sight, given the bruises she undoubtedly sported from her encounter with the demon and the darn rebels.
“Come,” Jisele said, expression cool.
“Could I have some water, please?”
“Severn,” the woman, who seemed in charge of the kitchen, called out.
A second later, a tall boy, probably in his late teens, hurried to her with a glass of water.
“Oh, thank you!” Leya smiled with heartfelt gratitude, and he responded in kind.
Jisele cast him a stern look, and the smile slid off his face.
Right, no being friendly with the staff.
Leya drank the cool liquid, and it soothed her parched throat. The moment she handed the glass over, Jisele glided off.
Her feet like lead, Leya shuffled after her, her bundle gripped under one arm. She rubbed her prickly palm on her thigh, wariness at having to rely on the civility of strangers knotting her belly.
On the first floor, the woman opened a door to a neat bedroom. Cream stone walls rose to girded ceilings. A bed covered with a cinnamon and cream duvet abutted one wall. The window opposite overlooked the pretty gardens.
At least it wasn’t some poky little room in a cellar.
“Everything you need is in there.” The woman tipped her chin to the corner cupboard. “I’ll send a meal up to you.”
Then she was gone, the door shutting quietly behind her.
Sighing, Leya dropped the parka and sweater on the armchair near the small fireplace, removed her cell from her jeans pocket, and dropped it into the bedside drawer. She aimed for the bathroom door opposite.
The tiny place sported a glass shower stall in the corner and a toilet. A shelf under the basin held thick, folded linens, which likely passed off as towels.
A short while later, showered, with her undies and bra washed and drying on the rail, she wrapped a soft towel around her. With another fastened around her damp hair, she shuffled back into the bedroom.
The smell of food permeated the air. Her stomach gnawed at itself, protesting its lack of nourishment. She hurried to the nightstand and the tray set there and uncovered a plate piled with several crusty rolls with savory fillings. She selected a warm pie and bit into it, the spicy meat flooding her mouth.
“Ohhh, man,” she groaned, gobbling it up in three bites, then washing it down with a glass of sweet juice.
Setting the crystal down, she crossed to the cupboard and found two superlong gray dresses and a tunic with drawstring pants. But no underwear. Ugh, at her height, wearing such a long dress, she’d likely trip and break her neck. Stifling a deep yawn, she settled for the tunic. It fell to her knees. As long as it covered her up, she didn’t care.
She wandered to the window, removed the towel from her head, and finger-combed her wet hair.
Daylight waned as dusk stole over the lands. Humidity still hung dense and heavy over the sprawling gardens with the thick shrubbery and pretty rockeries, while mistiness cloaked the peaks of the dark mountains in the distance. Everything appeared still and…desolate.
Leya shrugged off the foreboding settling over her, her mind back on Aerén. With her frustration at him fading, she hoped he returned in one piece with no further damage.
Recalling his warm breath on her cheek, his mouth stroking the rim of her ear, she inhaled sharply. He might have been paying her back for provoking him, as if he could ever be a monk, but he’d pulled a desire from her she never expected, stirring every inch of her with barely a touch. Hell, the man likely knew everything there was about fulfilling a woman’s deepest desires.
She shut her weary eyes, leaning her head against the window frame. Why was he so angry with her? It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t this Chosen they sought.
