How dare he?I thought. How dare he wear the body of a warrior who had fought a thousand battles and not at least carry one little scar to show it.
Silch didn’t fight for Ilma.Hedidn’t fight for Ilma.Coward. Traitor. Brute?
I tried to think of something else, someone else. Yet the last image I saw before drifting off to sleep was Lord Aegir Hailin’s menacing face, his glaring eyes, which I’m sure were green, staring at me—piercing—an ice spear in his grip, his thick arm poised to strike.
CHAPTER 4
“Are you going to serve him breakfast just now?” Farah snapped, startling me.
“He said he wanted breakfast an hour after sunrise.”
“All right. We’re meeting in the kitchen at noon. I need to discuss with you lot your new schedules. The usual chores will not do themselves, and with Mounir still a week away from his return, I have to plan in his stead. Be on time, Delia.”
“Come in,” Lord Aegir called, his voice deep from behind the door.
I found him standing next to the working table, looking at himself in the tall mirror.
As I placed his breakfast tray on the dining table, he turned towards me and said, “My shirt is torn,” showing me a vertical tear that started at his underarm and ended somewhere below his ribs.
“I can hand it to Lina Mounir, the seamstress, but she is not here at the moment. She’ll probably start working on it next week.”
His voice thickened. “I need it fixed today, now.”
“I’m sorry, but she isn’t here. She’s attending a family matter.”
“I have a meeting with King Belzari at noon. I need it fixed by then.”
“You didn’t bring any other shirts with you?” I found myself asking.
“I did, but all of them are…I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he all but snapped.
“No, of course not,” I said quietly.
“It’s just, the rest of my good clothes are on the way, all right. Is there any other shirt you could fetch me?”
“I doubt a single shirt exists in this castle that would fit you.” I regretted the words that I’d just blurted. They wilfully leaked from my lips like gushing water from a spilled glass. “Maybe one of your men could lend you one?”
“Theirs are in a poorer state. Are you certain there isn’t anyone in this godsdamned castle that could fix this?”
I stared blankly at him, contemplating, Semuel’s voice a whisper in my ear:Whenever an opportunity that may gain us something falls on our laps, we do not refuse it, Wildheart.
“Well, there might actually be someone who could help, but you have to promise to keep it a secret.”
“Why?” he asked, his tone conveying either confusion or annoyance.
“Because knowing how to sew puts you at risk of ending up in the basement with Lina Mounir, the ever-so-lovely seamstress.”
His eyes almost rolled. “Fine, I promise. Now go fetch her.”
“You have to swear it.”
The Ice Prince pierced me with a narrowed gaze, and I swore the whole of him emitted irritation. He took two steps towards me and I willed my feet not to fall back.
“All right, lady, if you want to do it the conventional way, then I should make you aware that I do not promise and I most certainly do not swear. Ibargain.” I watched him attentively.“So I’ll offer you this, make sure this shirt is sewn before midday and in return, I’ll give you my word that I will not utter a single word about it.”
I replied carefully, “That’s no different than a promise. Aren’t bargains supposed to be reciprocal?”
“Do not underestimate the value of my offer.”
