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“He’s not letting you out of his sight. Or I should say, they’re not letting you out of their sight,” Fenrick drawled. I hadn’t understood his statement until his long finger pointed out the black raven on the end of a tree branch. Omni used his wings for balance on the thin, bouncy limb.

I ignored his comment. I wasn’t going to talk about Revel with anyone. We reached a large, multistoried house behind a gate. It had almost a medieval castle look, but without the turrets and fortress walls. It wasn’t glossy and covered in flowers like the Solamere castle, but then, I wasn’t expecting that, especially after our walk through town. It was obvious that wealth, riches and luxurious living were not a priority in Regnamoor, just like they weren’t a priority in Norvale.

We stepped inside. The sumptuous, comfortable, almost serene ambience in the Solamere castle had been replaced by a harsh, homely interior where little thought had been given to décor or ambience, or temperature, for that matter. It was drafty and cold in the vast entrance, and only a few candles flickered on the giant iron chandelier hanging from the wood beams above. Cobwebs cluttered the top corners of doorways, and the rooms were sparsely furnished with worn leather chairs and sofas.

I pulled the cloak tighter around me. Fenrick noticed. “I should have had the fires lit in the hearths, but it was such a warm day, I didn’t think it was necessary.” If this was a warm day, I dreaded a cold one.

“I did have them light one in your bedchamber.” He let out a whistle that was loud enough to startle me and send a few rats scurrying from under a side table. A fat cat followed lazily behind the rodents as if he was in no hurry to catch them. A woman in a dark brown apron over a faded beige dress appeared through one of the many doorways. She had a smudge of flour across her forehead and smelled distinctly of rosemary.

“Este, where is Rowen? I need her to show Miss Willow up to her room.”

“How should I know?” the woman asked sharply. “She’s probably rolling in the hay with that scoundrel, Wesex. Now, can I get back to the kitchen? Otherwise, there’ll be naught for supper.”

He waved her off. “Yes go.” He sighed loudly. “I’ll show you up myself.” Right then, another woman—much younger, pretty and still tying up the strings on the front of her lowcut peasant blouse—came stumbling into the room through another door. Her lips were plump and swollen, and her face was flushed pink. It seemed the cook’s guess on Rowen’s whereabouts had been spot on.

Rowen was a slender girl with long legs. I had to hurry to keep up with her as she flew up a twisty flight of questionable stone steps. They seemed to go on forever. The mud on my boots had dried and fell off in chunks as I climbed the steps. There was already enough debris on the steps and floors to assure me it wasn’t a problem. The difference between the two royal palaces was night and day.

I sucked in some much-needed air once we reached the top of the stairs. I glanced out the small window at the landing. “Oh, wow, we are high up. I can see the whole village.” It was about the same size as Norvale, but instead of being bordered by forests of hydra trees, it was bordered along the west by the tall shale cliffs.

“Yes, the bedchambers are for important people.” She rolled her lips in and gave me a high-school-mean-girl onceover. “The rest of us sleep below the kitchen.” Her eyes rolled up as if she wasn’t terribly pleased with her accommodations. Below the kitchen didn’t sound very five-star. The way she’d looked me up and down, with a bit of envy tinged with disgust, made me think Granier wasn’t the only prince sleeping with the chambermaids.

Rowen was not nearly as attentive or friendly as Cara. One point for the other team, I supposed. She threw open a door to a big room that had a comfortable enough looking bed that was buried under quilts. The furniture was much more used and less posh than in Solamere, but I didn’t mind. A fire blazed on the hearth, warming the room to a cozy temperature.

Rowen thought it stifling rather than cozy. “A person could suffocate in this room.” She hurried across to the windows and pushed them open. Instantly, a damp chill floated into the room. Maybe Rowen was my secret assassin sent to make sure I caught my death of cold and died of natural causes. I had no idea why that weird, paranoid thought drifted into my head. It seemed being in these strange places was finally getting to me. I wanted badly to be home in Norvale with Raina and Lyric … and Revel.

Rowen leaned out precariously over the window railing. “Yoo-hoo! Tolten!” She waved eagerly. “I’ll see you later.” Someone whistled back; Tolten, I could only presume. Rowen swung around, her face pink from the cold air. She moved her mouth side to side as she perused my outfit. “You’ll need some fresh clothes for tonight. Prince Fenrick is having Este prepare her famous meat pie.” She sighed as if I was already quite the burden to her even though I hadn’t said a word. “There are some dresses in that cabinet. They should fit even if you are built a little like a child’s toy doll.”

I forced a smile, and my earlier suspicions were confirmed. Rowen was one of Fenrick’s friends. Either that, or she’d taken an instant disliking to me. Which was fine. The feeling was mutual.

“There’s some water in the ewer by the basin, so you can wash up, and I think that’s about it.” She turned but spun back. For the first time, she wore a more polite expression. “Is it true you know Revel Greyhart?”

Her question caught me off guard. “Uh, yes, that is true.”

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “He is so incredible. Well, I’ll leave you now. Dinner will be served in an hour.” With that, she slipped out and I stood in the middle of the room trying to interpret her assessment of Revel Greyhart, Mr. Incredible. My heart sank when a vision of Revel and Rowen rolling in the hay popped into my head.

A cold breeze blew through the room, helping to swish the bothersome image from my mind. I hurried across to the windows, shut them and then settled in front of the warm fire to heat and rest my weary head and bones.

Twenty-Six

I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was, and the warm fire lulled me right into a deep sleep. The knocking in my head was a giant crow hammering away at a big sunflower seed. I finally kicked away the drowsiness and yanked myself awake. The giant crow vanished, and the sound turned out to be Rowen knocking on my door. She opened the door before I could invite her in.

“You had me worried. Thought maybe you ran for the hills or back to Norvale. If I had Revel Greyhart waiting for⁠—”

I didn’t need to hear the rest of her comment. “I need to get dressed. I’ll be late for dinner.”

Rowen huffed like an exasperated teen being asked to do a boring chore. She stomped over to the closet and pulled out a pale gray dress. It had peasant sleeves that landed off the shoulder and a tight bodice that tied up the middle with a long, thin strap of leather.

I fussed with my hair while she tied up the bodice. She gave it a few extra strong tugs, nearly pulling me off my feet. “Uh, this isn’t Victorian England,” I noted. “We women are allowed to breath now.”

Rowen’s brown eyes rolled up to look at me. “Victoria who?” she asked.

“Never mind. Not so tight. I want to be able to eat. Will there be a lot of people at the dinner?”

Rowen giggled. “Where do you think you are? Solamere? It’ll just be you and Prince Fenrick. Prince Devlo was not feeling well, so he’s taking supper in his bedchamber.”

I was quite relieved to hear there wouldn’t be a large delegation waiting to inspect me, and I was especially relieved to know there would be no controlling mother to ruin the meal. The dress was passably pretty but not nearly the jewel-colored confections they’d draped me in at Solamere castle. Cara took time and had attention to detail with my makeup and hair. Rowen wasn’t the slightest bit interested in my appearance. It seemed she was thinking about her date with the man she called down to earlier.

The corridor was cold, and the candles had a hard time putting out any light in the dampness. Fenrick’s castle was large, but it didn’t have nearly as many passages and hallways as Granier’s. We walked down the crazy lighthouse-style stairs and turned down a short hallway toward the savory smell of onions and rosemary. I pressed my arm against my stomach to stifle a rumble.