“Is there something you need, your highness?”
I hesitate, then decide I don’t have the capacity to hold more unknowns right now. “I heard you. Outside my tent.”
His brows rise. “And what exactly did you hear?”
“Why should I know who you are, exactly?” I ask.
“That’s what you heard.”
I wait.
“I’m not from the city,” he starts.
“Neither am I,” I say without thought, then hope he thinks I’m speaking of Iskvaland.
He speaks slowly, carefully. “You know how different it is here. How wrong things are.”
“Where exactly are you from, Nate?” I press.
Sounds coming from down the hall have both of us turning. Several maids chatter as the walk toward us, carrying bundles in their arms. When they notice us, they grow silent, and rush by, dipping into little curtsies when they reach me before moving along. I nod to them, forcing myself to smile.
“Empress, I will explain as soon as I can. But please know, I will keep you safe. It’s an honor to serve you.”
“The wife and child? Is that a lie?”
“No. I do have a wife and she did lose our child. The herbs I needed are only grown in Pendralia and I didn’t have them,” he says. “Though, I will admit, that’s not what brought me here.”
Realization dawns and I truly look at him for the first time. He’s not unlike many who live in Pendralia, dark hair, golden tan skin. “Not Iskvalandian.”
It’s not a question, but he shakes his head.
A rumbling sound and I notice another maid approaching with a cart. Several covered dishes and bottles of wine rattle as she nears.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I tell him.
“Of course, your highness.” He inclines his head in a polite bow.
I open the door and step inside. My ladies sitting around my room and as soon as I see them, my shoulders ease in a way I didn’t expect. They look up, Genevive setting down embroidery, while Charlotte and Antonia drop the cards in their hands. All their faces reflect the same relief and joy that I’m feeling as they rush toward me.
I’m smothered in an embrace. All of them talking at once. Peppering me with questions and comments and congratulations and concern.
The knock on the door sounds, forcing them to peel themselves off me. Antonia opens the door, quick to resume her old habits as if we were never apart. She steps aside for the maid to push the cart into the room.
“Shall I set it out for you?” she offers.
“No, just leave the cart, please.”
She curtsies, then leaves the room.
“Give her some space,” Antonia calls. “She’s had a long journey.”
“And she’s in need of a bath,” Genevieve says.
Antonia throws her a dirty look.
“What? We’re all thinking it. Poor thing. I’ll start the water.” Genevieve holds up her skirts as she glides across the room.
It’s a large room, ornately decorated in blue and gold. My chest tightens. That was what he did for me. Caiden decorated the room in the Iskvalandian colors. He knows they aren’t really my colors, but it’s color. Not the black and white of everything else in the Pendralian court.
