It wasn’t worth it.
“You should grow it out,” she urged, voice soft. “Let it be your sign of your right to challenge. You have the means to care for it now.” With a gentle touch, she shifted to the side, weaving the small section of length.
“How long do I have to prepare for thischallenge?” I asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the maids, who struggled out with two buckets of murky water. “There are three rites, not one. Prince Regent Adastrus would have you start today.” She finished the braid, then stepped before me, mouth dipping in a slight frown. “Yet, I would not let him.”
“You?” I asked, arching a brow in disbelief. “You can step in his way?”
“I am a Priestess of Togamar. The prince does not dictate what the gods say.”
I drew back, regarding her with fresh insight. Anderz mentioned the priests being on Adastrus’ side. I was uncertain of her intentions. Perhaps she harbored a noxious potion or magical spell to use against me. Sainte’s absence skittered down my spine, and I glanced toward the door. The maids were gone now, leaving me alone with her.
“You follow his lead.”
“I follow Togamar, and if there were a king or queen on the throne, I would follow them. I am not bought, as you accuse,” she spoke with a certain calmness, despite the bite in her words.
She set the comb on the table, then began organizing her things. I watched her with a frown, tucking the sheet more firmly around myself. More maids knocked and entered, each carrying buckets. One paused by the tub, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced at me. I managed a faint grin before the other servant nudged her, a silent reminder of her station.
It wasn’t long before the seamstress returned with Benita, trailed by a maid who carried bolts of fabric and a case full of dresses.
Annoyance crawled beneath my skin, and I wondered if I shouted for Anderz, if he would save me from the torture about to ensue.
I was proud of myself. I conducted myself with maturity, allowing them to drape cloths and gowns around my body. Years in the slums had stripped away any sense of modesty or privacy, leaving me unfazed by the exposure. The seamstress took care, avoiding my bruised ribs and thighs, and Gilead applied salves to my battered skin where she saw fit.
After a time they allowed me to dress in a thick cotton gown adorned with lace and flat opals.
I peered at it in distaste, picking at the teardrop stone near my neckline. “You want me to go to a ball, or can I sleep?”
“Sleep. Tomorrow you will have a good meal and feel better for it,” Gilead said as the others filed out.
“Where’s Sainte?” I asked, gravitating toward the bed. Every single muscle in my body got heavier just looking at it. Was it safe without him? What if someone tried to kill me?
“He is resting as well. It took quite a toll on him, retrieving you.”
She drew the heavy blankets aside, revealing a stupidly soft mattress stuffed with—I reached out to pat it—feathers?!
“Shouldn’t I stay up to wait for him?” I asked, sliding onto the bed. My body had a mind of its own—it knew what I needed.
“He needs his sleep as you need yours. Rest, Princess.”
She pulled the blankets over me. I moaned as I sank into the mattress and my eyes drifted closed at the heavy warmth.
“But–” I mumbled, unable to form more words.
“You’re safe here.”
Safe? In a castle with my mad brother who tried to murder me at the age of six?
My mind struggled, fighting to stay awake, but I fell into a dreamless abyss to the faint hush of Gilead dousing the lamps.
Chapter 11
“Hush now, you’ll wake her!”
“I am hushed!”
I drifted awake, feeling as though I floated through the clouds. Everything ached, but I was so warm and comfortable that I couldn’t make myself move.
