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Serjeant Iarthil relayed her response to Warrick.
His confident answer needed no translation.
“My family has served the Radiant Queens for generations upon generations,” Chardryn protested. “I have cared for Queen Elina since she was a babe. It is my duty to tend to her health, and no barbarian can possibly—”
“No one doubts your care for me, Nanny Char,” Elina said gently. “But he will be my husband, my king consort, and we will respect his customs. You will show him how to mix the tonic…and after the wedding, I’m certain that he will allow you to oversee the use of your powders and approve the measurements when he makes the tonic for me.”
Chardryn searched her eyes. “You trust him with your very life, Your Highness? A thief? The witch’s prophecy might have meant another.”
“With his own breath, he saved me,” she said simply. “And he might be a thief—but what he stole, he set free.”
The nurse huffed in response. But Elina knew that sound well. Chardryn had accepted her answer.
“Teach him to make it in these remaining days before the wedding.” Elina leaned back against her pillows, smiling. “And if he botches the measurements or wastes the powders, I give to you permission to use your nanny’s switch on his hand.”
Happily Iarthil relayed that, though by Warrick’s grin he’d caught on to Elina’s teasing tone before it was translated.
Oh, but her warrior was truly fine to look at. All that bare skin and muscle gleaming in the sun. Never had lying in the carriage been such a treat as now, when she could watch Warrick as they traveled.
He gave to her a look that seemed both hot and wicked before retrieving a pouch from the pack tied to his saddle. From it he plucked a red raspberry.
His eyes met hers as he brought it to his mouth.
Instantly she could taste his kiss, so tart and sweet. She could feel his lips at her breast. And the gods help her, his tongue. Just the barest lick had seemed to draw every inner part of her body into a hot, tight coil.
“Are you well, Your Highness? Your face has flushed.”
“We must cool her down,” Chardryn ordered. “Open the fans and stir up a breeze.”
A breeze soon stirred. But since Warrick withdrew another berry from the pouch, cool air did not help her much.
“You added too much doxweed! Do you wish for hair to sprout from between the queen’s toes? Oh, you thickheaded brute! Let us begin again.”
In her tub, Elina hunched down deeper into the water, desperately holding back her giggles. Nanny Char was in the attendants’ tent with Warrick, but much of her lesson could be heard from Elina’s bath.
Dara’s lips had compressed to pale strips. Elina met her eyes.
“Do you think she will use the switch?”
The maid sputtered out a laugh before catching herself. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”
“What is there to forgive?” Elina had laughed, too.
“If I may say, you look very happy.”
“You may say it all you like, because I am.”
“I’m glad of it. Not just for Aleron. For you.”
“I thank you, Dara.”
They both turned their heads toward the front of the tent when Warrick came inside, carrying her tonic.
Chardryn was close on his heels. “You can’t mix it up far in advance or it loses potency. So once you’ve added the water, bring it to the queen as soon as you can. Don’t be off strutting naked through camp when that cup ought to be at her lips.”
“Serjeant Iarthil is not here to tell him what you’re saying,” Dara reminded her.
“You should not be saying it at all,” Elina added mildly. “You have much leeway with me, Nanny Char, for I am familiar with your manner and you used to change my diaper cloths. But even you should not make a habit of calling my king a thickheaded brute.”
Chardryn flushed at the reproof. “Yes, my queen. Forgive me.”
“All is forgiven.” And was easily done. She arched a brow and lightened her tone. “Tell me, though—was he truly thickheaded?”
“Not at all, Your Highness. Though stubborn, for sure. He asked what everything was and what it did. Iarthil could open his own apothecary with what he learned talking between us. Go on now,” she said with a nudge to Warrick, who had been standing motionless next to the tub, staring down into the bath—which hid nothing of Elina’s nude form or how rosy the warmth of the water had turned her skin.
He knelt and gave to her the cup, his dark eyes never leaving her face as she drank it.
“I thank you.” She handed the cup over to Dara and caressed Warrick’s jaw with her wet hand. “I will be to bed shortly.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Elina arched a brow and tilted her head at the curtained bed.
With a rumbling growl low in his chest, he caught her lips in a hard kiss. He rose to his feet while she was still catching her breath—and if the bulge at the front of his leather wrap was any indication, Warrick was no less affected than she.
