Page 121 of Ashborne Forged

But now, they would disappear, and depending on how the servants had been told to handle my possessions, this might be the end of my herbs, and my access to the knife.

“Would you mind putting those aside for me?” I offered casually, in the tone I’d heard so many of the court use with their servants.

The women went still, then looked at me, alarmed. “I beg your pardon, Ma’am?”

I smiled gently and held her wide gaze, praying she’d respond to the kindness. “There are medicinal herbs in the pockets,” I said, nodding toward the leathers, because it still hurt to raise my arms. “And they… they must be foraged by the light of the full moon, and cut with Damascus steel,” I blurted, scrambling for a reason to keep the blade. “If you could just—”

“I’m not familiar with that spell. Explain.”

I almost swallowed my tongue when Breckon arrived through a door on the side that must lead directly from his chambers. He wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and looked down his nose at me.

My head shrieked—I was naked! I sat up, hugging my knees hurriedly to cover myself.

“Well?” he demanded. I realized he’d been speaking to me. And now I needed to make an excuse.

“Th-they were given to me by a h-healer,” I said, swallowing hard. “To aid fertility and wellness.”

“A spell for your Furyknight?” he sneered. “Destroy them,” he shot to the girl.

“No! My Lord! If you truly wish to have a child—”

He whirled on me. “Do not attempt to convince me to aid your fertility with another man.”

Both the servants who’d followed us in, stiffened. The guards didn’t even blink.

I wanted to spit in his face, but I knew that wouldn’t serve me or Voski in this. “Please,” I murmured, dropping my chin, though it wasn’t necessary in my rank. “The herbs were given to me for… for my wedding. Not for a particular man,” I said breathlessly, as if I was afraid to speak.

He went still.

“There is a history in my family, generations blessed only with a single child. The healer—an apothecary—assured me that these herbs would aid me in producing more. But they must be taken every day, and cut by that blade,” I said, praying that the simple etching on the side of my Furyknight blade would convince anyone who looked closely, that the metal was something special, not a simple leather knife.

Breckon stared at me for long seconds, but I only pleaded with my eyes, until he turned and said to the maid who’d picked up my clothing, “Save the herbs for her—and the blade. But place them in one of my lock-boxes. I’ll provide them to her each morning.”

My heart sank as he turned back to me, yet, I made certain my expression was relieved and I ducked my head again. “Thank you.”

Inside, I wanted to weep. How would I ever use the blade on him if it was locked up? But at least it wouldn’t be destroyed.

Perhaps when Voski arrived, we could steal it back. Or…

The servant darted out of the room, and dropped my head to my knees, praying Breckon would leave.

But Breckon was having none of it.

“Bathe her,” he said with a sly smile in his tone. “Bathe every inch. She stinks. It’s been days.”

I would have been so glad to be properly bathed, if only I didn’t have to do it under his eyes.

Cheeks heating I turned my head. “My Lord… please. I am… we are not yet married.”

“Not by my choice,” he muttered.

“I wish to prove my virtue. If I might bathe without—”

“You will bathe in my audience, or not at all,” he snapped. “If I’m to wait to impregnate you, I will at least enjoy the view of what’s to come.”

I wanted to weep, but I wouldn’t allow him to see my distress. So, with a stiff nod and my jaw tight, I turned my back to him and sank back into the water, keeping my knees together and one arm over my breasts.

The remaining maid hurried to my side and plunged a washcloth below the surface, rubbed a pat of soap on the dripping cloth, then lifted one of my feet up, out of the water, extending my leg so that she could reach all sides.