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Biting the insides of her cheeks, she forced herself to reach for the soap. Scrubbed her hair and body, exhaustion biting at her as she eased her too-thin body out of the bath and toweled dry. Her long hair, she wove into a simple braid, which she pinned around her head like a coronet, arms trembling by the time she was finished. Donning lace undergarments, she took a plain green dress from the wardrobe and pulled it over her head, the silk whispering in the silence. A belt to hold her knife, a pair of sandals, and Aren’s mother’s necklace completed her attire, but instead of leaving the room, Lara sat on a chair, just breathing as she stared at the door.
Get up,she ordered herself.You need to get out of this room.
But fear throbbed in her chest at what she’d face beyond the confines of this space. Those who wished to kill her. Those who hated her. Those who worshipped her only because they didn’t know the truth.
Get up.
Lara rose, meeting Lia’s watchful gaze. “Take me to the council room.”
The other woman nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” Then she opened the door and leaned out, murmuring, “Aster, the queen wishes to attend the council meeting.”
Lara gritted her teeth, waiting for the man to argue, but he only gave an approving nod and held out an arm. “I’m quite fine,” she said, moving past him, taking in the six other armed Ithicanians standing in the corridor. All of them possessed the alertness of warriors expecting attack from every angle, and it made her wonder if there had been more attempts to reach her than she knew about. Than even Aren knew about.
Aster coughed. “They aren’t in the war room, I’m afraid. The meeting took place over breakfast and is in the dining room.”
Which was on the main level of the palace. Gritting her teeth, Lara gave him a smile. “Good. I’m still hungry.”
Half of her guard moved ahead down the corridor, the rest remaining behind while Aster and Lia strode at her side. Or rather, shuffled, for each step she took was slow and unsteady. The silk of her dress was glued to her back by the time she reached the grand staircase, her body quivering from the effort.
“Your Grace,” Lia murmured, “perhaps you might allow us—”
“No,” Lara interrupted from between her teeth. “I’m just stiff.”
“The queen was chosen by Ithicana’s guardians,” Aster declared loudly. “Thrice, death has tried to claim her, and thrice was he denied. He will not test her mettle again.”
The guardians didn’t choose you,a dark voice whispered inside her head.They recoiled from you.Lara shoved the voice away, taking a tight grip on the banister, her knuckles white.You were the little cockroach long before any of this. What are stairs compared to what you’ve endured?
She took one step down, then another, painfully aware that the servants were stopping their tasks to watch. That a crowd of watchers were gathering at the base of the stairs.Do not falter,she silently chanted.Do not show weakness.
Her legs quivered as she reached the landing on the second floor, nearly buckling. But she pressed downward.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Her guards motioned for the crowd to back away from the stairs as she reached the bottom. Though her focus was entirely on keeping her grip on the banister, Lara didn’t miss the flash of motion from the corner of her eye. Instinct took over, and she let go of the banister and drew her blade, whirling to face her attacker even as her guards drew their weapons. Arm back, she readied to throw, but Aster caught her wrist. “Steady, Majesty.”
Lara froze, eyes focusing on the wide-eyed face of a servant woman. Then on what the woman held. Not a weapon, but a cane.
“Apologies, Your Grace,” the woman whispered. “Broke my ankle last season and this served me well. I thought you might have use of it while you heal.”
Bile rose in Lara’s throat.I nearly killed her.
Would have killed her, if not for Aster’s quick reflexes. “Thank you.” The words came out as a croak, and she coughed to clear her throat. “I’m sorry, I…”I’m afraid.“Thank you for your kindness.”
The woman handed the cane to Aster, and he examined it swiftly before giving it to Lara. She gripped the carved handle, the wood polished smooth. Using it felt like admitting how weak she truly was. Except who was she fooling? In the mirror on the wall, Lara could see what the Ithicanians saw. A too-thin form, face drained of color, and whisps of hair glued to her cheeks with sweat. Even standing still, her legs trembled, and next to her, Lia’s arms were slightly outstretched as though she anticipated her queen collapsing at any second.
No one, was the answer. She was fooling no one.
Leaning her weight on the cane, Lara smiled at the woman. “This will help a great deal. I’ll return it to you when I am well again. What is your name?”
“It’s Emma, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Emma.” Giving the woman another smile, Lara then clenched her teeth and started down the hallway to the dining room.
Click shuffle.
