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Eventually, I’d rinsed all the goop from my hair and skin. The girls proved an interesting pair for castle gossip, especially once I told them to eat with me.
I learned my monarch wasn’t eager to find a wife but had been told it was time he produced an heir.
“Is he handsome?” I asked. Despite the rest of the people in the castle being unveiled, he’d remained covered.
“Very handsome.” Menni sighed.
Lalla rolled her eyes. “He’s loud.”
“A king has to be heard.” Not sure why I defended him.
“Everyone can hear him when he’s mad,” Lalla added. “But he’s fair.”
“You’ve met him?” I crunched on a sweetened nut.
“Not to be introduced. But we’ve served at his table in the main hall. And my mum is the one who cleans his personal suite,” Lalla added.
We finished the snack before I sent them on their way. Menni offered to help me dress, but I waved her off, claiming I wanted a nap first. More like I needed to revise my plan.
I’d lost everything. My potions. My special garments. At the same time, I had to remind myself I wasn’t entirely without skill. While I’d not arrived as planned, I was here, and I’d met the King. Left an impression too. But I couldn’t slow down. I had limited time to get my mission accomplished before the alchemical process changing my appearance wore off. I doubted anyone would be interested in an explanation. I’d be branded a spy and suffer the consequences. Which, having met the King, I had no doubt would be fatal to my health.
Thinking of the King reminded me of my idea. The bench at the foot of the bed held a variety of garments, mostly robes of varying color and style. Proper attire for an unmarried woman, but buried in the mix was an outfit that would set me apart from those hopefuls.
I chose to wear the pantaloons that hung mid hip. The top was more of a vest that showed shadowy cleavage. My midriff showed, the indent in my navel particularly noticeable. No jewel in it like I used during my show. The sandals were light on my feet and my unpainted toes visible. Weztrogians didn’t indulge in the makeup and nail painting of my people.
By the time I finished and eyed myself in the mirror, I wanted to hide under a robe. I currently showed off more than I usually did on stage. With the scarves, I revealed tiny pieces of me at a time. When I left the gradeena to run errands, I wore a robe that covered me head to toe. But I was supposed to be a foreigner. One not aware of the customs. One not raised to hide her flesh. Not to mention, a shapeless gown would put me on the same field as the other women arriving to attract the King’s attention.
My wits might be enough to intrigue him into seeking me out privately, but just in case, I wanted that extra edge that would force the King to notice me now. Although what I’d do if I got him alone remained to be seen. Without my calming toxin or the tongue-loosening one, asking questions might be dangerous. I could only hope Qynn would find a way to deliver replacements to me, and quickly. I’d already wasted a day. I had to be gone before I returned to being a tizana. The exit plan was for Jrijori to take me, his niece, from the castle into the city for a treat, but he would return alone and claim I’d run away back to Weztroga after a fight. Daisy would disappear as well to give credence to that story.
That was the escape part of my plan. Now for the discovery. I went exploring.
There was an advantage to being a foreigner and dressed provocatively without a husband by my side. The guards, especially the males, all wanted to talk to me. Not that many had much to say. None knew where I could find the king, but my escort to the dining area assured me he often passed through since the main hall linked to many sections of the castle in one spot.
The interior of the castle proved airier than I would have expected given how deeply they’d carved into the stone. Windows angled just right to bring in daylight and refracted off the embedded jewels, bringing brightness to a dark space.
Once I reached the hub of the castle, I found myself a table and chair in a beam of sunlight. I needed it to keep warm since drafts tickled all my bare spots. Without my even asking, a tray arrived with a red-cheeked Menni whispering, “You forgot to put on your outer robe.”
I pretended to glance down at my outfit. “Why would I cover this up? It’s lovely. And so much cooler this way.” A Weztrogian would complain of the heat.
She gestured. “That outfit isn’t proper for the unmarried.”
“In your country maybe. Not mine.”
“But you’re showing off everything.”
I smiled. “I am. It’s quite liberating. You should try it.”
Menni recoiled as if I’d said something foul. She probably embraced the veil when she came of age. For me, I liked it when I was on the stage, and with clients, but I preferred the barefaced honesty I got with my friends. Given my career choice, and lack of husband, I never expected I’d be in public without my face being covered.
The girl left, and I nibbled on cheese and fruit as I observed. A person of my station would usually never see the inside of the castle let alone meet the king. How quickly would I be run to a prison cell or hung if they discovered my subterfuge? It added an element of smug satisfaction to my posture. None of which was helping me get close to the King. But I had more than enough attention from everyone else.
Councilor Raykun, whom I saw usually around once a year when he felt he needed punishing but who had never seen me unveiled, fawned over me, offering to show me the castle conservatory. I didn’t want to admit I had no idea what conservatory meant. Luckily, we were interrupted by the captain of the guard. A beefy fellow, married with several children, he also kept a few mistresses. The man’s dedication and stamina impressed many, especially since he didn’t use any drugs.
While most of the married women offered me glares of discontent, a widow of the late Land Baron Klow spent some time by my side. Her hand sometimes rested on my leg. I allowed it mostly because she actually had some interesting stories to tell. It appeared Widow Klow and a handful of other women, some with children, had fled before an attack on their hamlet, begging the King’s assistance and refuge.
But what intrigued me?
“I never believed in dragons until my husband killed that first one. A baby, and already the size of a full-grown goat. It seems impossible that they could exist. And they fly!” The widow stared off as if in memory.
