Page 39

“Let me get your ladies. They’ll help you get ready,” he said as he eased back to his feet, returning the basket of things to the trunk. Then he pulled a second large swath of fabric and handed it to me. Its stitching was intricate, bits of silver woven through the delicate stitches. “Use this to keep warm for right now, and then I’ll get more precise with your foot.”

I fingered one edge of the fabric and realized it was a cloak, thicker and warmer than the one Lillian had given us.

“Is it morning?” I asked. The cloak was incredibly soft, and I cuddled into it, keeping as much of me covered as possible.

He nodded. “Just a bit before sunrise, my lady. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

My lady?

Reuben ducked out of the tent before I could decide how to respond to the honorary.

Another memory cleared, that terrifying man calling Callum a bastard prince.

Shivers racked through me, shooting down my spine and into my hands, a combination of the dream and the memory. I carefully pulled my good leg into my chest and rested my forehead against my knee, letting my eyes fall shut. Between the nightmare and Reuben’s strange, electrical touch, I just wanted to eat and fall asleep again.

Except then the guilt filtered through everything.

Where was Sloane? Despite trying to fight through the fog in my mind, I couldn’t remember anything about the man who’d taken her outside of his name. He’d told us which kingdom, right? He’d added it in the last minute, like it wasn’t the standard way to introduce himself but he realized we wouldn’t know what any of those names he’d given us would mean. God, I hoped he wasn’t hurting her. He hadn’t given off that type of vibe, but…

“My lady?” a sweet voice asked from the front of the tent.

I sucked in a breath as I flinched out of my thought spiral.

Two women who felt familiar stood just inside the tent’s entrance, the flaps dropping into place behind them. They had additional fire jars on long leather straps that were hung on one shoulder and sat on their opposite hips, like a crossbody bag. One had gorgeous curly brown hair, each ringlet defined and smooth. Her skin was a similar deep hue and her eyes were hazel. A picture of her on the beach, smiling, filtered through the fog.

The woman beside her had warm, fair skin and red-brown hair that reminded me of toffee braided around her head like a crown. Her ears were pointed, but more subtle than Reuben’s, the shape more proportional to her head. Her eyes were the same bright green as his. She gave a shy smile as she took another step toward me, her arms full of fabric.

“Good morning,” she said.

The first woman set her basket on the floor of the tent, and the second dropped the fabric on top of it, shaking out her hands.

“H-hi,” I managed after a minute.

“I’m Amaria,” the brown-eyed woman said. “This is Shelby. We’re your ladies-in-waiting.”

“Ladies… in waiting?”

I hated how little I knew of all of this, the structure and expectations. It was only a matter of time before I said something that had the entire messy affair crashing down around me. Especially since everyone—well, three people didn’t really constitute everyone, but I was tired and terrified and hurt, so I let myself be hyperbolic. Everyone kept moving around me like I should know what was happening and who people were. The nerves made me want to lash out, but both women were soft, their faces open. They reminded me of Sloane. The hurtful words died on my tongue.

Shelby nodded.

“Yes, my lady. Your personal attendants.” She slowly sorted through the fabric, pulling a thin cotton dress that would reach my knees and draping it across the empty cot. “We are daughters within King Elias’s court, and our parents were also unions through the Grand Rite. The prince asked if we would be interested in becoming ladies-in-waiting when he chose to participate in the Rite this year in the event he chose a female omega.”

Amaria pulled the fire jar off of her and hung it on the other corner of the trunk. It was brighter than the one Reuben had left behind, the jar slightly larger. It cast a farther shadow, illuminating Shelby better.

“We’ll help you plan events and outfits and keep you up-to-date on the gossip if that’s what you wish. We’ll keep you company, too,” Amaria said. Her voice was lower than Shelby’s, a croon that had me wanting to relax into it.

Shelby turned back to the pile of fabric and offered another smile. “Some princesses end up close friends with their attendants.” My mind, caught on princess, just… short-circuited. Silence apparently wasn’t the right response to what she said because her face flushed, and she cleared her throat, her hands moving faster. “Not that you’re required to, of course. It’s just that they spend quite a bit of time with the princess and so it’s often something that develops.”

“Did they not have attendants where you came from?” Amaria asked.

She carefully took the cloak Reuben handed me and returned it to the trunk. Cautiously, I shook my head.

“Not for a long time,” I said.

Which, actually, wasn’t a lie. Did the modern monarchies have ladies-in-waiting? I tried to remember anything I could about the English crown, but no details were forthcoming.

“The prince selected us, of course, but the ultimate decision is yours, especially as ladies-in-waiting are often a princess’s closest companions.”