Narthing sank back onto the pillows with a mutter.
“The decision is yours, of course m’lord,” Warna said, standing and brushing off her dress. “And I will abide by your command. But this summons seems to me both threat and promise, to you and your people.” Something fiercely protective rose in her chest for him and Tassinic. “If we both go, we may discover their intent easily. If I am not there, you may waste precious time dealing with the consequences.”
She lifted her chin, and waited to see if she was pawn, possession, or person in his eyes.
Chapter Forty-One
Verice eyed her cooly for a long moment, but the determination in her lovely face just grew. When had he lost control over the situation? Over her?
She’d made her choice, and his heart swelled at the idea that she would put the interests of Tassinic over her own. But that pride also bore a tang of fear. Fear for her stepping into the unknown.
He shook his head in surrender, acknowledging the truth of her words. “Very well. We leave at noon.”
Warna gave a sharp nod. “There’s not much time then.” She started to weave her way towards the door.
“For discussion?” Pernard asked.
“To look presentable,” Warna retorted.
“Just be certain to be ready on time,” Verice said.
She halted just at the door, and gave Verice a look, raking him from head to toe. “Look to your own self, m’lord.”
With a flash of blonde hair, she was gone, running down the stairs, calling for some of the female healers to check and make sure the bathhouse was ready.
“You’ve been given your orders, m’lord,” Narthing said with a wan smile.
“It would seem I have,” Verice snorted softly as the others started to file from the room.
Dominic stood by the bed, eyeing his patient. “That took more out of you than you’d care to admit,” he observed. “You’ll sleep now.” Narthing nodded weakly, submitting to Dominic’s ministrations.
“I needed his advice,” Verice said.
“The Royal Court of Valltera places high values on appearances, m’lord,” Dominic said. “Appropriate attire and a certain level of grooming would be in your best interests. Think of it as armor for the coming battle, if you must.”
“So, Warna is right?” Narthing asked.
“Not that I’d admit to,” Dominic said.
Narthing laughed, then groaned, holding his stomach.
The women’s bathhousewas ready, thankfully, and Warna plunged in, refusing all offers of oils and unguents, except for the plainest of creams for her face and hands. Black dress, with black shoes, and someone found a black cloak that fit her well. Her hair didn’t need washing, and there was no time to dry it anyway, so she braided it tight and wound it up on her head, making certain this time that her ears were exposed. She’d not cover up what she was, not ever again.
There was a tingle of excitement deep in her stomach. Valltera, the palace of the Elven King and Queen. She read so many stories as a child, she couldn’t help wondering if it would be like the tales.
It was only when the women were chattering around her and she was putting on the cloak that Lottie entered, hesitating at the door. “M’lady?”
“Lottie.” Warna took her hands and drew her into the room filled with faellas. “I’m about to depart with Lord Verice, but is there something you need?”
“I know, we heard, Lady.” Lottie had a bundle in her hands. “Mayth managed to pull some things from our home. I thought perhaps—” She lifted her hands, and a black lace veil spilled from the bundle, with a pattern of roses woven within.
“Lottie,” Warna breathed as the others ooh’d and ah’d. “You made this?”
“Aye. There’s no scent of smoke on it,” Lottie assured her. “I thought perhaps...given that you’re dressed in mourning…”
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Warna took the soft veil from her hands and draped it over her head, winding the ends around her neck. “How do I look?”
Lottie reached out, and adjusted the drape with pride. “Like a perfect lost soul, overcome with grief.” She stepped back. “You watch over yourself and our lord now, you hear?”
