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Chapter Seventeen
Einar
Iknew going into this that Khijhana would raise eyebrows, but I was unprepared for the terror and chaos she inspires at every inn.
This one is no different. Gunnar and Helga unload the trunk where Zaina hides, and the petite innkeeper rushes out.
I forget how much shorter people in Corentin are when I’m away for this long.
“Sir, we welcome you, of course, but perhaps the other guests might be more comfortable if you had a lead for your…” She pauses, unsure of how to classify the chalyx. “Tiger?” Her expression is tight and narrow eyes assessing, as though she’s taking in my obvious wealth and weighing it against the inconvenience of one of her guests getting eaten.
Though I can’t see Zaina, the crackle of her wrath practically emanates from her trunk. I don’t envy anyone who tries to chain Khijhana in my wife’s presence.
At least we’ll be at the palace in a couple of days, and they’ve received word of the chalyx ahead of time. I try to focus on that small bit of positivity instead of the carefully contained fury every time I think about seeing the woman who tortured my castle for nearly twenty years.
The woman who ruined Zaina’s entire life.
“I assure you, she’s quite well-behaved as long as no one has any ill intentions toward me.” I could swear Khijhana’s lips curl up in a feline grin while she sits innocently back on her haunches. “But of course, you’ll be compensated for the extra hassle.” I nod to Gunnar, who steps forward with a heavy purse.
Just like with the past two inns, the heavy exchange of coins solves the problem.
The woman takes the purse. “Right this way.”
She leads us into the building, barking orders at her staff in quick succession. Everyone straightens and stares at us with curiosity, and it’s a relief when we’re alone in the sizable suites.
All traces of my earlier amusement vanish when I help Zaina out of the trunk and see the pinched expression she tries to hide.
She catches the look on my face and immediately hardens her own.
I wonder if she’ll ever stop feeling the need to hide herself, or if Ulla has so firmly ingrained it in her that it’s just an intrinsic part of who she is now. It’s a good quality in a queen, at least, even if I hate it for her.
“Did you hear the other guests talking about another fire?” she asks abruptly, running her hand over Khijhana’s fur in continuous, automatic motions.
I nod. I had heard on the way up to our room, but she seems more interested in the news than I am. “Do you thinkshe’s behind it?”
Zaina shakes her head. “Arson doesn’t feel like her. But it is interesting…” She leaves her spot by Khijhana to grab today’s newspaper from the table, something far more common in Corentin than Jokith.
She scans the headlines until she finds the article she’s looking for. When she’s finished reading it, her shoulders stiffen and her brows knit together.
“What is it?” I ask.
She shakes her head again. “It’s probably nothing, just warring factions trying to take each other out.”
Uncertainty laces her tone, but I don’t push it. I’ve been wondering about a few things as well.
“What do you know about the royals?” I ask. “From what I remember of the king, he doesn’t seem the type to work with someone like Madame, but I only met the queen once.” I sink onto the foot of the bed.
“When did you last see him?”
Before Ulla came along to rob me of all of my relationships, political or otherwise. “Nearly twenty years ago.”
“People change in that amount of time,” Zaina says softly, setting down the newspaper.
The turmoil churning in her eyes is more than I would expect for a relative stranger to her, and I wonder if she’s thinking about more than just the king.
In twenty years, will she change while I will remain largely the same?
Jokithans live to be several hundred years old, but no one knows exactly why, only that it’s tied to the land somehow. The vague explanation never bothered me before I realized it was the difference in whether or not I would have to watch Zaina die one day.
