“Yes, River confirmed it. It was not in my imagination.”
“Do you think she is—” Mischa faltered. “Do you think the captain has a lover?”
I paused lathering my neck and underarms with the musky lily soap. “That could be. I’m sure his marriage would be confusing and frustrating for a lover.”
“She has a wedding ring on,” Helena said.
“Doesn’t mean she is not his lover,” countered Mischa.
“Good morning,” said a silky voice.
The five us turned towards the direction it came from to see the noblewoman little more than an arm’s length from us in the water.
Her eyes were trained on me, roving over my body and face. We were in waist deep water and she seemed to hone in on my bosom and my left arm with its tattoos. “Are you Edith?”
“And who are you?” asked Mischa snottily.
The woman ignored her, eyes still on me. “I am Lady Vinia. My husband is Lord Halsted. He advises the king. Behind me is our daughter, Opal. My sons are not in the keep at present. I would welcome you all to Tintar, Pikestully in general and the keep in particular.”
“That is kind, lady,” replied Helena, giving the woman a gracious half curtsy that should any other naked woman attempt would look foolish, but Helena’s lean frame and poise managed to make it look elegant.
“Are you Edith?” the lady repeated, only sparing Helena a glance.
“I am,” I answered, hoping I looked half as poised as Helena, grateful my hair was not wet and sticking to me. As I answered, a lone abalone blossom petal floated from my head to float on the water’s surface, a reminder of my being yesterday’s bride.
“I would ask that you grant me a question, if I may be so bold?”
“Granted,” I said, trying to smile. I sensed something was not right in her manner.
“I am curious to know,” she began, “as an old friend of the captain’s, which rumor is the true rumor. I’m sure you know, or maybe you don’t know yet, but he is a secretive man. I cannot ask him outright for he will not answer me. So I must ask his bride. The first rumor is that he fell for your face and figure. He spared you and your friends and then married you as soon as he got you back to Tintar. Which is highly unlike him, but—” and here she paused to shrug her shoulders, “all men have needs. Who can say how their minds work?” And she paused again, her eyes on my breasts.
It was a disparaging look and irritation straightened my spine.
She went on. “And the other is that you somehow fooled him into thinking you were priestesses? I have never known Eccleston to be a faithful city-state. So which is it? And I do so appreciate your humoring me.”
My mind flitted to our argument in the sitting room when I had asked my now husband which rumor he had wanted me to confirm and how he said both brought him shame. A perverse part of me wanted her to think it was the first rumor, that I had just left a passionate wedding night, the culmination of a whirlwind romance on the road. I should have wanted her to know the second rumor was true, that I was cunning, but I, without understanding it myself, wanted her to think me Alric’s true wife.
“Would your daughter care to join us?” Maureen asked from behind me. “Catrin and I want to start a braid chain. She has very nice hair.”
I turned to see Maureen smiling across the baths at Vinia’s daughter. She waved and the girl waved in return.
Vinia gave Maureen a pained look. “Opal is in training to be a lady of Tintar. Braid chains and friendships with …people in the keep are behind her now.”
Maureen’s face fell.
Next to her, Catrin frowned.
“Well,” I said, plucking the floating lily soap from the surface and working a lather over my hands. “It was so pleasant meeting you, Lady. I will tell my husband you asked after him when he returns to Pikestully.” And I turned my naked back to her. I did not listen for the splash of her walking away and immediately began to ask Catrin what she knew her lady-in-waiting work to involve.
Mischa, having had watched for the Lady Vinia’s retreat, turned to the half circle the five of us formed in the water and said “I can safely say that I think the phrase ‘an old friend of the captain’s’ means he has had her. At least one time. Maybe a dozen.”
“Mischa, please,” Helena said.
Maureen and Catrin were giggling at Mischa, but then Maureen said, “I feel for her daughter. She seems lonely over there.”
“You have a sweet heart, girl,” I said, pinching her cheek. Then turning to Mischa and Helena, I said, “Did the way she look at me imply that she thought I was in some way not good enough for him? Did I imagine it?”
“Absolutely it implied that,” affirmed Mischa. “And that she wishes she had your tits.”
