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“You are so beautiful. But you have too many...thorns.” She pauses, and I wonder for a moment if she’s referring to the obvious physical flaws she has just borne witness to, until she speaks again. “You prick at his Majesty...use sharp where soft would work. You do with everyone, I believe.”
I know I’ve been rude, harsh even, but her mild scolding is an unwelcome reminder of how differently things have gone than I wanted them to. Even if the overgrown toddler that serves as Jokith’s king is largely to blame. Still...
“Sometimes thorns are useful,” I add after a moment. “Sometimes they’re even a protection.”
“This is true.” Sigrid sighs. “And it is difficult to be in new home, be with new people so far from the ones who belong you.” Her voice trails off, and I hear the sadness etched into each word. The empathy. “But you will never have happy here if not you try.”
Truer words...
She pats my shoulder and goes back to rinsing my hair without waiting for a response. The rest of our time passes in a silence that leaves too much room for the thoughts and memories that haunt me.
Chapter Thirteen
Once I’m out of the bath and dried off, Sigrid wraps me in a thick, warm robe and sends me back out to the bedroom.
Einar pointedly ignores my presence as I sit across from him at the fire, pretending to focus on the book he’s reading. He looks even angrier than he had when I left, and I’m not sure I have the energy to try any more today.
Hadn’t he just accused me of sucking the life out of a room, of making the servants miserable with my mere presence?
It hadn't been fair when he’d said it, but it felt uncomfortably true now.
When Sigrid emerges from tidying the privy, though, she places a gentle hand on my shoulder. She clears her throat and faces him, her expression concealed by the veil, but something in his countenance softens.
He sighs and arches an eyebrow, then goes back to his book.
Sigrid huffs, then scolds him in Jokithan, and I can’t help but wonder how she gets away with it. I’ve yet to meet a lord or lady who tolerates such a thing.
Einar’s eyes narrow as he closes his book. He doesn’t respond to her rebuke. Instead, he stands and moves toward the door.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I have matters to attend to,” he says, reaching for the knob.
“What matters?” Sigrid boldly asks, placing a hand on her hip.
Einar’s hand freezes, and he glares back at her.
“I am King still, am I not?” he asks calmly.
“Of course,Majesty.” She uses his title condescendingly. “But Leif has already everything in control. Remember? You have nothing but to know your new wife today.”
“I don’t mind. I would hate to take him away from something so important. I’m not feeling very well anyway,” I interject.
Even though he hasn’t outwardly reacted, half a lifetime of watching servants be punished for less has left me unreasonably afraid of what her obstinance will result in. And besides, it’s not untrue; my head and stomach are still vying for my attention while they do somersaults.
Sigrid only tsks again and walks over to the king’s side. Whispering another rebuke, she pushes him bodily back to his chair.
“I get tonic brought up for sickness, Mistress. You are feel better after.”
At this point, I’m not sure if the words are encouragement or a command. With that, she walks out of the room. Judging by the slight spring in her step, I would say she is quite pleased with herself.
As soon as the door clicks shut, a squeak sounds from the crate at the center of the room. The chalyx is back securely inside of it, but I’m hesitant to make any moves to let it out just yet, especially under Einar’s watchful gaze.
Einar’s knee bounces repetitiously as he stares too long at the same page in his book, and I continue to watch the flames dance in the hearth.
Another meow has him glancing from me to the cub and back again. He shakes his head, presumably because I’ve shown little interest in the thing he purchased for that very purpose.
The silence stretches on until I have no real choice but to break it or spend the rest of my evening in the suffocating tension that has permeated every inch of this room.
“So,” I begin. “Leif is taking care of your duties? Your...ruling duties?”
