“You need a bath,” Diara advised me, shivering.
I smirked, smelling myself to ensure she was teasing. “Thank you.”
A knock sounded at my door. I cracked it open, positioning myself so that he couldn't spot the Diara-sized lump under my blankets.
“Lady Princess?” Gerard, the caretaker of Cynthus Castle, asked on the other side of the door.
I started. “Oh—just Maren.”
He blinked, his mouth thinning. “Lady Maren?”
I supposed that was appropriate.
“Prince Hadrian has invited you to ride with him this morning.”
Clenching my teeth, I forced a smile. “Alright. Please tell him I accept.”
He sent a quick glance to my bare feet, ignoring my nightdress. I pulled myself further behind the door.
“It would be wise to dress warmly,” he said. “The wind can bite along the cliffs.” His lips pinched together as his gaze flickered down my side, then he turned sharply down the hall. Something told me he didn’t approve of me.
Closing my door, I shoved Diara’s body over and nestled in beside her, thrusting the covers over my head as well. “There are extra quilts and pillows in the chest at the foot of the bed,” I said. “Take them all back with you tonight.”
Diara groaned. “Can’t I just stay here?”
I poked her in the ribs. Diara slapped my fingers away. Biting back a laugh, I listened to the roaming feet in the room next to mine. “What do you do in Pirou in the month ofVirccos?” I asked.
Diara exhaled. Swallowed. “We ride. Tend to foals, the younger mothers. Field the pastures, fill mud trenches. Begin training the yearlings. Prepare to sell the destriers for cavalry.”
My breath fogged, warm against my face. I pulled the quilts off, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.
Diara peeled back the covers as well. “What are they doing in Leihani?”
I cocked my head against my pillow. “It's the dry season in Leihani right now. Fishing season.”
“It’s fishing season every day in Leihani.”
I smiled at the wall, though it didn’t quite meet my eyes. The face of a cabin boy flashed in my vision, frail and thin, preceded and trailed by six weeks of failed fishing.
“What wouldyouhave been doing in Leihani inVirccos?” Diara asked.
“Gardening. Planting herbs and fruits. Paddling in myva’a.”
Diara’s face curled with sudden amusement, and I suppressed a wild giggle, knowing what thought suddenly streaked through her head.
“Which boats do you mean?” she asked in a perfect impression of Hadrian, “The smaller voyaging boats, or the one-man fishing boats?”
Laughter suited her. Her skin was bright, hair disheveled and rich with golden warmth.
I hadn’t thought of myva’afor months until the day before. Twisting my mouth into a grin, I sniggered with her, pulling our heads again below the darkness of the covers. Diara adopted the low voice of a man. “What are one-man boats called, lowly islander girl? Canoes? Wrong.Outrigger canoes.”
I snorted, rolling away to emerge from the bed, and Diara yanked me back, mock gravity knit between her brows.
“This is serious. What kind of fish do you eat in Leihani?” she continued. “Tuna? Wrong.Island fish.”
“Stop,” I whispered, though I knew the house couldn’t hear her.
“What kind of molten liquid comes out of volcanoes in Leihani? Magma? WRONG. Extremely hot melted rock.”
