“I’m sorry,Lord Skarnesh?” I exclaimed.
“Patrick bought me a peerage a few years ago. I would have preferred the cash, but …”
“Lady Edevane,” said a servant, bowing and reaching to divest me of my cloak. I clutched it about me about me until Patrick hissed, “It’s all right, they’ll give it back.” Shooting him a look, I shrugged it off and watched it disappear, no doubt to be hung in some elaborate closet in this vast, echoing hall.
“You told them who I am?” I said.
“I told you, you don’t need to hide here.”
“Yes, because Patrick and King Colin are bosom friends,” drawled Dwale.
I looked up at the ceiling, which was painted with an elaborate mural resembling the sky at sunset. “It’s like something out of a fairytale,” I said.
“Hardly,” said Patrick. “The roof leaks.” He rubbed his hands together. “I find myself urgently in need of a bath and a meal. We will need to be ready in just a few hours. The king is holding a soirée, and the Pontiff will be there.”
“A soirée?A party?” I stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t expect me to actually attend apartyin the middle of all this?”
His eyes widened. “Of course I do. You need to talk to the Pontiff, after all, and see what you can find out about accessing the catacombs. Parties for the high society of Mirthwater aren’t meant just to be revels—”
“Well …” said Dwale.
“—they’re a way to meet people. Form alliances. Persuade people to give you what you need.”
“And here I was hoping we would be able to enjoy ourselves a little,” grumbled Dwale.
“All those thingsareme enjoying myself,” said Patrick.
“But …” I gestured at myself.
“I’ll take care of all that.” Patrick eyed me critically. “Green or gold, I think. Or perhaps a rich blue. I’ll send something up. And we’ll need to get that dye out of your Hair.”
“But if they recognize me …”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “We are under the king’s protection.”
He crossed the tiled floor to take my hands. “I know it seems strange—parties and palaces—but this is how things are done here. Please. Trust me.”
“I suppose I have to,” I said neutrally.
A servant led me to a room just as luxurious as the foyer had been, where I scrubbed off what felt like several layers of skin along with the dirt. A troop of maids had offered their services in the bathroom, but after my experience at Milady’s, I wanted to bathe alone. The Corpse Roads mud was stubborn, leaving a greenish tinge, and it took me a long time to return to my usual color. Baldbeak preened on a bedpost.
There was a fur robe laid out on the bed, and I slipped into it, just in time to hear a knock at the door. I opened it to find Patrick standing there.
“I have brought the soap for your Hair,” he said. “Would you like me to …”
I remembered how he had dyed it in the first place—the firm, sure movements of his hands. I wasn’t ready to do that again—not yet.
“I can do it,” I said quickly.
“Very well.” He placed the bottle on the chest of drawers by the door and hovered. “I will have some clothes brought up. You can select your dress for the evening.”
He bowed formally before retreating. He was behaving a little oddly, I thought.
True to his word, he sent up a box containing several gowns and a maid to help me dress. I tried to send her away, but she was dogged in her persistence, and so I gave up and let her stay. Having her in my rooms made me miss Mieka and desperately wanted to talk to her. I resolved to demand that Patrick contact her as soon as possible. No, not Patrick—Lord Foley.Who now seemed quite a different person from my traveling companion.
I washed my Hair with the abrasive soap, and it was soon back to its flame-red self.
“What beautiful hair you have, my lady,” said the maid, preparing a tray of brushes and pins as it dried. “Such a lovely color.”
