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But Wes wasn’t real. A tear slips free.
“Miss.” A hand rests on my arm. “Miss.”
I jerk and shove myself upright. I didn’t expect to sleep, but I must have. My limbs feel heavy and slow to work. The room is flooded with early morning sunlight—I didn’t draw any of the curtains last night. I’m still in a sleeping shift and the belted dressing gown, but I never drew a blanket over myself.
A serving girl in a blue dress and a light-gray apron stands over me. She has ink-black hair tied into a tight twist at the back of her head, dark olive skin, and brown eyes. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t place it. Maybe she was among the girls I followed into the palace yesterday.
“Forgive me, miss,” she says. “Master Quint asked me to have you dressed and ready by half past eight. I’ve drawn your bath.”
“I locked the door,” I say.
“I knocked,” she says. “But you were asleep.” She pauses. “The guards have a key.”
I’m not quite awake enough yet. I blink at her. She’s young, maybe even younger than I am. I see that two guards are now inside the room, standing passively by the doorway. I wonder if they’re here to make sure I don’t get out of hand. They don’t look too concerned, however. If anything, they look bored. I guess I’m not an exciting sleeper.
“How—” I begin. “What—”
“It’s half past seven,” the girl says. “My name is Jossalyn. We have little time.”
“But—it’s not going to take me an hour to bathe.”
“No, miss. But you’re meeting with the king at midmorning, so—”
“I’m what?” I scrub my hands over my face. Anxiety forms a pit in my stomach. “Wait. Did you say—the king?”
“Yes.” She hesitates, then wrings her hands a bit. “I’ve called for breakfast. If you bathe now, it will be delivered by the time you dry.”
I don’t understand how she could say something like you’re meeting with the king in the same breath as talking about ordering food, but I shove the hair back from my face. “I can’t—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “I can’t meet with the king.”
“It is by His Majesty’s request,” she says, as if that answers everything.
Iglance at the guards by the door. They’re both standing stoically, but I’m sure they’re paying attention to every word we say now. One is older, and must be pushing sixty, though the other is younger and cast a long glance in my direction when I said I couldn’t meet with the king.
I’m not sure how I can tell, but it’s obvious that I’ll meet with the king if they have to drag me there by my toenails.
My heart stops in my chest and takes a moment to start working again.
Wes. Help me.
There is no Wes. There’s only Corrick.
I didn’t expect to survive the night, but I’ve made it till morning. I press my fingers into my eyes and take a long breath. I would give anything to open my eyes and be back in Mistress Solomon’s shop, Karri giving me a crooked smile.
“Miss?” says Jossalyn. She leans in until her voice is hardly louder than her breath. “The guards have been ordered to assist if you refuse to prepare.”
I jerk my fingers down. “Right. Fine. Time for a bath.”
I haven’t had assistance in the bath since I was a child, but Jossalyn seems unwilling to leave me alone, and I suspect my options are her or the guards, and I know which I prefer. I dunk my head under the water, and when I come up, she’s ready to scrub my hair.
“I can really do this myself,” I say.
“Yes, miss.” She doesn’t stop. Her fingers work my tangled tresses into a rich lather that smells of vanilla and sweet cream. In any other situation, this might be relaxing: the uncannily warm water, the soothing scents, the gentle pressure of her fingers. But I’m naked with a stranger, there are armed guards in the next room, and I’ll be facing King Harristan in a matter of hours.
In the Wilds, a lot of people call him Harristan the Horrible. I wonder if he knows.
The instant the thought comes to me, I’m terrified I’m going to say it out loud. In front of him.
If you throw a glass of liquor at my brother, I really will have to cut your hands off.
