Loud rappingon the door jerked Leya awake. “Hana?”
She shot up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then glanced around the unfamiliar room… and everything came tumbling back.
Her heart sank. It wasn’t her sister knocking.
Leya groaned, burying her face in her raised knees…then she stilled.
Aerén?
She scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting.Christ!
Her face—her body—hurt like she’d been used as a punching bag. Biting back a moan, she stumbled for the door and flung it open. Disappointment sank like lead to her belly.
“My lady.” Lykon inclined his head, his striking plum hair pulled in a low ponytail. “Just checking on you. Jisele tells me you haven’t come down to any meals today?”
“What?” She rubbed her bleary eyes again.
“It’s late noon the following day, my lady. Shall I send Severn up with a meal?”
She shook her head and lowered her hands. “Don’t trouble him. I’ll…I’ll be down soon.”
With a little nod, he strolled away.
A quick shower later, grateful to wear clean undies again, she skipped her bra since it was still damp. But with no fresh clothes—her jeans and top were filthy, and the gowns in the closet too long—she pulled on the tunic again. The soft-soled, black slip-ons she found in the cupboard were a little big, but they did the job.
She fastened her hair in a topknot, retrieved her cell, and slipped it into her tunic pocket. Not like she could use it here, but it was familiar and made her feel not so alone. She padded out.
As she neared the kitchen, she slowed, soft voices drifting to her.
They’re not going to have knives pointed at you, Ley.
Right. Shoulders squared, spine straightened, she opened the door. Four pairs of eyes flashed her way.
“Hi.” She smiled. “Ah, sorry. I, er, overslept.”
“Good day, my lady,” Severn responded, seeming not to notice Jisele’s frown. “Let me show you to the dining room. I’ll bring your meal.”
“You have work to do, Severn. I’m sure she’ll be comfortable in the kitchen.”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind, really,” Leya said, not wanting Severn, the only person she sorta liked in this place, to get into trouble. Everyone treated her like she was an oddity, and Jisele as if Leya were a chore, disrupting her schedule.
One of the staff placed her meal on the long table near the window.
Pies again? Not that she minded. She often had leftovers for dinner because she was too tired to cook, and breakfast was usually coffee on the go.
She picked up the steaming beverage with a brownish-blue tinge. Some kind of herbal tea? She wasn’t sure. But it did smell a bit like lavender, so probably drinkable.
Not wanting to sit there and be stared at, Leya scooped up the small plate with the three pies and said to the staff, pretending not to stare at her, “Thank you for this. I think I’ll eat outside. The gardens are so pretty.”
Their jaws dropped.
With an inward eye-roll, not waiting to hear whatever was chomping on their asses now, she ambled outside and gasped.
Damn, she’d forgotten about the insane humidity in this place. Ugh. Even the air was wet.
Back home, she’d worked in similar weather, but nothing quite as horrendous.
Sweat beaded on her skin and dripped down her back. The urge to dart back inside, into coolness, took hold but with all those people and their stares? Nope, she’d take her chances out here.
