Page 56 of The Faceless Queen

The Hermit was right. I’d fucked up. She was already suspicious of me.

Immediately, my instinct was to apologize and blame my nerves for being so chatty and curious. I barely bit my tongue in time to stop myself. I had been a commoner for too long.

I schooled my face in the mirror, affecting a more snobby, disinterested expression.

I rolled my eyes at her in the mirror. “You poor thing. You must think that I suddenly can’t stop talking.”

“I certainly think that’s true,” Lord Brandon drawled.

Abigail smiled nervously, her eyes jumping back and forth between the two of us. “My opinion is not of consequence. I am sure you have a million questions about life in the castle, Your Highness. Not that I would presume such things.”

I suppressed my natural response to reassure her. But I couldn't dismiss the Hermit’s warning, nor could I afford to take any more chances with her, certainly not this early on. I did want to keep talking to her. It had been a welcome distraction, and I hated that I might have made her feel less than. But it was better than her feeling suspicious. So I looked out the window, pretending to be bored at having to get dressed, rather than meeting her gaze in the mirror’s reflection as I had done before.

When I was finally dressed, her eyes widened, taking in the full effect. And I had to admit, this was the most beautiful I had ever looked in my entire life. Olivay’s beauty had been stunning in the cave, even while dirty and scared. Now, she was—I was—breathtaking. Fully dressed as a future princess of Eskalon, the effect was beyond words.

“Almost there. You just need to be blindfolded,” the Hermit said. “Then you’ll be a perfect Orsete for the traditional first meeting of your Kavrir.”

“Orsete?” I asked, shaking my head. There was no such meeting of the God and Goddess recognized in our stories. And certainly no time when Orsete, the leader, the queen and prophet was meant to be … “Blindfolded?” My pulse spiked

“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” Abigail asked. “Your Highness,” she added quickly.

“No,” I said slowly. “Enlighten me,” I commanded her, while I shot daggers with my eyes at the Hermit.

His brows narrowed, and again Abigail looked doubtful of me.

Fuck.

But this seemed reasonable enough of a request as my mind whirled, and I quickly recalled a few things about the religion in Spartva.

“We are not so devout in Spartva as you are in Eskalon, but I do look forward to learning your stories and taking part in my husband’s customs. Back home,” I said, “the God and Goddess are known as Kavrar and Orsha.”

“Oh,” Abigail said. “I see.”

I nodded, trying to encourage her to keep talking.

“Well,” Abigail said, “Kavrir is our patron God in Eskalon, and in the story, he marries Orsete and makes her his wife. But she can be wild and easily led astray by the horned-God Batrir. He’s evil.” She shuddered. “A demonos.” Abigail paused on the word, her eyes flickering to me.

I stilled.

But she continued, “So to keep Orsete from temptation and confusion, she must be blindfolded until she is led to her future husband. And only then, when she is safe with him, may she be unblindfolded to the world, because he can guide her through it.”

Safe from temptation and confusion? Blindfolded until her husband can guide her? By the fucking Gods.

I barely hid my scowl and disgust. I knew that Eskalon had a very different version of events than we did, but that sounded ridiculous.

“I see,” I said carefully. “And am I to be blindfolded until my wedding night?”

“Gods no,” Abigail said. “Your Highness.” She lowered her chin. “Just tonight, and only until you reach the prince.”

“What a comfort,” I said.

“You know, Princess Olivay,” Lord Brandon said, his voice dripping with honey, “I’ve also heard in the tales from Eskalon that Orsete has wings of fire when she’s being wild, and they burn off her back, nothing but ash when Kavrir tames her. Be thankful they haven’t strapped a contraction of wings to your back.”

Abigail nodded. “Oh, that is part of the story. I love that part. But I think wings would be too complicated for you to wear and remove.”

I barely hid my grimace, and the Hermit, now revealing his true face as Abigail turned away, barely concealed his laughter. Bastard.

I took one final look in the mirror, at Olivay’s face, taking in my hair, dark and braided with jasmines. I wore an elegant white gown with sleeves that fell off my shoulders and dropped down to my fingers. A belt embroidered with gold thread was looped around my waist. The dress moved with a grace that felt dreamlike, and every skirt panel seemed to fly out with the barest of movements on my part. It gleamed in the room’s torchlight, our main source of light as the sun had already begun its evening descent.