“It’s my job, Miss Adelia.”
I cleared my throat, then said, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve been looking after myself a long time.”
Wistari smiled, her first truly genuine one, and patted my arm. “I’ll only do what you’re comfortable with, Miss Adelia.”
I relaxed, returning her smile with my own. “Thank you.”
I washed myself thoroughly while she kept busy preparing towels and clothes. Only after I cleaned my hair twice did I finally rise from the water, the color tinged brown after soaking in it so long. Wistari held a towel out for me but thankfully let me dry myself. The things nobles expected of their servants were baffling. Had they truly stooped so low to expect others to bathe them?
Once dried, she held out a blue day dress. The buttery fabric slid through my fingers, more luxurious than the nicest dress I owned—the one my father gifted me only days before his death. I planned to wear it to the winter social, intending to attract the eye of the butcher’s son. Our parents died the day before I was set to wear it, and my life spiraled so completely out of control that I had never worn the pale-pink gown.
“I’ll fetch your dinner, Miss Adelia.” Wistari’s words brought me back to the present. I thanked her and dressed in haste. With her gone, I wanted to explore the tent properly.
I found an armoire filled with gowns for all occasions, plus a few pants and tunics.Thank the Gods.I hardly wore dresses at all anymore. I was more comfortable in pants and tunics while working at the tavern. It helped that they made me less desirable to a man’s eye; the whole disastrous situation with Ergo taught me that.
Eleanor arrived as I closed the armoire doors. “Isn’t this amazing!” she gushed, flopping onto the bed I refused to think of as mine. “My tent is the same, the bed is huge. Honestly, how can one person need so much space?”
“It’s certainly extravagant,” I murmured, grabbing a brush and some leather ties from the small table beside the bed before joining her. I gently pulled against the wet strands of her hair,and our familiar nightly routine offered some sorely needed comfort. Her curly tresses were long and prone to tangling if not brushed properly, and she never had the patience to do it herself. She always sat still for me, and even before our mother passed, I was the one to brush my sister’s hair each night, the only person she allowed to do it.
I let myself fall into the familiar movements, getting lost in the pull and glide until she broke the silence with a hushed tone. “Why are we really here?”
Chapter 4
Pausing at Eleanor’s words, I swallowed thickly, then said, “I told you. The king needs my help.”
She released an exasperated sigh so similar to our mother’s, I felt like I was thirteen and about to be scolded for behavior unbecoming of a lady. “Except you failed to mention exactly what he needs help with.”
I chewed my lip, considering how to respond. She should be focused on exploring or her studies—not worrying about the reason we were dragged halfway across the kingdom by the King of Torglea. I was here to shoulder those concerns. Her curiosity was always hard to deny; like a hound searching for a bone, she wouldn’t stop nagging until she got the truth.
I brushed her hair as I spoke, focused on the candlelight dancing over her brown curls. “There’s a … curse. King Terym needs my help to break it.”
She spun to face me, and the brush flung from my hand. “A curse? Like actual magic?” Her wide eyes sparked with disbelief, and I collected the fallen brush.
“That’s what I’ve been told.” I twirled my hand, motioning for her to turn around so I could keep working through her tangled strands.
“But why you?”
I hummed, unsure how to answer the question I had been asking myself for days; no closer to a response now than the first time. I pulled the brush through a particularly bad tangle, rougher than intended, and Eleanor clawed at my hand. “Ow, Lia!”
“Hush, you.” I smacked her hand away so I could get the brush free.
“Perhaps the Gods have a plan,” she said after I cleared the worst of the knots. “Perhaps this is their way of answering my prayers.”
I stilled again. “What prayers?”
“To leave Toreshire. To do something more, tobesomething more.” The last sentence was spoken on a whisper, and I blinked through the moisture gathering in my eyes. She had asked me to leave before, questioned why we couldn’t escape the small village we’d sequestered away to. I always thought it was simple curiosity, but it was more than that, she longed for more. Little did she know she was destined for it.
I pulled her to face me, those beautiful hazel eyes glistening in the candlelight. “Eleanor …” I wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. “You’re young and have so much life ahead of you. You are destined for great things, I’m sure of it.”
Her teary-eyed smile pierced through my chest and the battle waging there.Was I doing the right thing?
“If nothing else, at least we’ll have a good story.” She beamed, and I forced a smile of my own. There she went, searching for apositive in her pain. She would always be a better person than me.
We were silent as I finished brushing her hair, then I worked it into a braid running the length of her back, and Wistari and Meline arrived with food as I was tying the end.
My mouth watered at the delicious scent of stewed beef and vegetables, and we accepted the bowls with thanks before the women left us to eat. We scarfed the meal, both ravenous after the long journey, then Eleanor curled up on the bed.
“Can you sing to me?” she asked on a yawn, already closing her eyes. She hadn’t asked me to sing to her for over a year. This sudden change in our circumstances must have disrupted her more than she let on, or she sensed I needed it. Needed the comfort of our familiar routine. I joined her on the bed, smiling when she cuddled into my side the way she had as a child. I whispered our mother’s lullaby, the same I’d sung to Eleanor every night the year after she passed. An old song about overcoming obstacles and facing your fears, the words more relevant now than ever before.
