Ayla rushed forward, immediately pulling her into a friendly hug. “It’s so nice to meet ye,” she breathed. “Ye’ve gotten our braither out of quite the predicament.”
“He isnae the only one gettin’ somethin’ out of it.” Marissa chuckled, returning the woman’s hug a bit awkwardly. “I assure ye of that.”
Ayla gave her a final squeeze and then stepped back.
Joseph didn’t hug her, but he did give her a broad, cocky smile.
“He only calls me the ugly one to make himself feel better,” he said with a wink. “He kens he’s got a face like a horse’s arse.”
Despite herself, Marissa choked on a laugh. Especially when she glanced at Arthur and found him scowling.
All around her, servants were bustling about, unloading her trunks and chests from the wagon and carrying them into the castle. She looked around, still unable to comprehend that this was where she would be living now.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the courtyard in soft golden light.
It’s breathtaking.
“It’s gettin’ late.” Arthur’s voice broke through her reverie, drawing her attention back to the people standing near her. “We’re goin’ to head up to our rooms. Will ye have one of the servants send up supper?”
Ayla nodded, immediately bustling away to do as her brother had asked.
Arthur turned to Marissa. “I’ll give ye a brief tour on our way,” he said, motioning for her to follow him.
He immediately began walking, not looking back to check if she was behind him.
Waving goodbye to Joseph, Marissa trotted after him. His legs were so long that even his leisurely pace was hard for her to keep up with.
“Why are ye walkin’ so fast?” she protested, prompting him to slow down.
“I’m eager to wash up and lie down,” he admitted gruffly.
Marissa nodded.
They’d traveled a long way; it made sense that he was exhausted. Especially considering the skirmish with the bandits.
“A wash does sound heavenly right about now. Ye are right about that,” Marissa said.
Arthur nodded. “Stay here.”
She did as she was told as he walked down a corridor. Using the time she had, Marissa admired some of the paintings and decorations on the walls.
The finery inside the castle matched the grandeur she had seen on the outside. Gilded paintings, rich tapestries, gleaming suits of armor—they decorated every space they had passed.
At the end of the corridor was a portrait of a man. There was something about his face that looked familiar. Strong cheekbones, chiseled jaw, plump lips. But it was his eyes that gave him away. As grey as a stormcloud.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was Arthur’s father.
He looks cruel.
Marissa couldn’t tell if it had been a deliberate choice by the artist, or if it had truly been so obvious in his features that it couldn’t be helped. But, either way, the image made her recall how Arthur had claimed that his problems with the council were due to his father.
Based on this portrait alone, she had no problem believing he was a man who caused problems for others.
“The maids will draw ye a bath.” Arthur’s voice sounded from behind her, and she whirled around. “And while we’re bathin’, they’ll set up supper in our chambers.”
Marissa nodded, her heart racing as if she got caught doing something she shouldn’t have.
Dinnae be barmy. Ye were lookin’ at a painting, nothin’ more.
