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But certainly not beholden to me, if he ever really was.
I finish scrubbing and rinsing off, watching the soap bubbles circle around the drain before I reluctantly shut off the warm water.
Exiting the shower, I grab a fluffy towel and dry off quickly. Shivers threaten to overtake me now that I’m back in the cooler air, so I search for something warmer to put on. My nightgown is out. It’s still sticky with the ointment that was on my burns.
None of my other clothes are in here, something I doubt Einar is in any hurry to remedy, so I grab one of his softer tunics and slip it over my head.
I am burrowing under the mountain of blankets just as a knock sounds at the passageway door. I freeze, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
My chain doesn’t reach that far, and if I tell the person to leave, I will give my presence away. Just as I am scouring my surroundings for a place to hide, the door opens. Leif enters, carrying a tray of food, balancing it precisely in spite of his uneven gait. It smells like boiled eggs and freshly baked bread, and I am more grateful than he will ever understand for the simple meal.
Khijhana follows at his heels. She runs straight over to me, purring as she presses her nose to my skin to greet me.
Leif’s round eyes blink individually, and his skin is an even deeper green than it was before. At least his transformation doesn’t seem as painful as Sigrid’s.
Then again, how would I know?
He must be one of the three that know I’m here, alive.
“Lady Zaina,” he says, his voice gentler than I expected.
My heart breaks. If he’s being kind, it must mean that Einar didn’t tell him I left with the rose. He doesn’t hate me yet, but he will if he ever finds out the truth. They all will.
“I’m sorry you are stuck with the job of serving me,” I tell him, bracing myself for his scorn if I’m wrong.
He surprises me, though, speaking as his webbed fingers set the tray in front of me.
“I volunteered.” His voice is still warm, even through his familiar hissing syllables.
I blink in surprise, and he notes the expression.
“Life is rarely black and white, Lady Zaina. I know what the castle sees, and what His Majesty sees.” He nods. “But I also know what I saw. A woman who was brought to her own wedding without a single person to hug her goodbye. Who was manhandled and leered at before she even stepped in the door.”
I can’t speak past the sudden clogging in my throat.
“I believe that there is more to a person than the worst decision they have ever made. So yes, I volunteered to serve you for as long as your presence needs to remain a secret, and you can rest assured that I will keep it so.”
So he did know. He knew, and he still came here.
I mull that over as Leif turns to leave without waiting for my response, which is just as well, because I couldn’t begin to articulate the effect his words have on me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Zaina
The next time the passage swings open, I don’t even turn my head. I would know the king’s familiar arrogant footsteps anywhere, though this time they seem edged with frustration.
He slams the door behind him, stomping through the room toward the privy. The water turns on, and it’s nearly ten minutes before he emerges. Anger rolls off of him, thicker than the steam wafting up from his damp skin.
He opens and closes his wardrobe with more force than necessary, his mouth twisted into a scowl.
“Did something happen?” I ask when he throws fresh clothes on his armchair, as if the tunic has gravely offended him. The funeral was more than enough to upset him, but he came in drenched in sweat, and his fury seems to be burning especially strong considering the hours that have passed.
He turns his glare on me. “You mean, aside from the day I spent pretending to mourn my traitorous wife, who is still very much alive, instead of my loyal subject and old friend?” His words are venom, and I don’t miss the regret in his tone when he mentions that I am still alive.
I fight not to visibly flinch from his ire. It’s deserved, after all. Willem is gone because I belong to a macabre family of sociopaths, and I’m not even the worst of the bunch. I may as well have said yes when Einar asked if I killed the man.
I push all those thoughts away before he can read them on my face, and instead focus on something else he said.
