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Princess Romeria isn’t a caster, though. She’s elven. But her hands were covered in blood. “What did they look like? This legionary and the female?”
“Jarek is Jarek. A big, angry bastard. Lethal and impossible to mistake. The woman had dark hair. I have never seen that face before, though. I would have remembered.” His eyes narrow. “Why? Have you seen something?”
I shake my head, perhaps too vigorously. “But I will be on the lookout.” I shift my attention to Atticus, allowing my worry for him to bleed into anything else Kazimir might read in my pulse. “And the mercenaries? Will they try again?”
“That will be difficult. I killed them both.” Kazimir peers at his friend and his jaw tenses. “He will pull through.”
I can’t tell if he believes that or if he is telling himself what he needs to hear. “Yes. He will.” He must. And I must speak to Wendeline. Romeria’s message burns in my memory, waiting to be relayed.
“He will need you as soon as he wakes.”
My vein, Kazimir means. “I will have to step out to feed Suri, but—”
“Corrin will bring her up.”
I nod. I suppose her cries won’t disturb Atticus either way.
He frowns, leaning forward. “What is that all over your dress? Is that … vomit?”
I look down at the white milk stains. “Basically, yes.”
His gaze shifts to the dark stain on my skirt. “And that?”
“Urine, from a diaper leak.”
He steps back to appraise me with a critical eye, reaching for my hair. When he pulls away, there’s straw between his fingers. “What in fates’ name have you been doing all day long?”
“Comforting three hundred and seventy-four terrified mortal children.”
“Commendable. Truly. But please do me a favor and use the queen’s chamber to bathe. And change out of that.”
My mouth drops. The queen’s chamber? “I can’t do that!”
“Oh, but you must. Please. For him.” He grimaces. “And me.”
“A mortal baker in a queen’s chamber. Mark this day for yourself. I know I will.” Corrin sweeps into the bathing room, a white gown and robe draped over her arm.
I huddle in the grand tub, centered in a luxurious marble room that is truly fit for a queen and not me, my weary body begging for rest even as my mind is wired with worry. “Is she asleep?” I fed Suri while the bath was drawing. Hopefully, that will hold her over until dawn.
“Sound as a nethertaur, underground.”
“You are comparing my child to a Nulling beast?”
“Your sweet baby? Never. That boy of yours, however …” She snorts. “Do you need help?”
“No, I think I’ve found the last of the straw and vomit. If you wouldn’t mind passing me that towel.”
Corrin collects it, but instead of handing it to me as I climb out, she begins drying me off.
It earns my laugh. “I can do that myself.”
“I know you can, but it has been an eternity since I helped anyone in this chamber. Princess Romeria did not care for any assistance at all. Though, she was never your typical elven royalty, was she,” she adds, more to herself.
Corrin may not speak about the exiled king and Princess Romeria, but I sense she is loyal to them. What might she know of Princess Romeria’s secrets?
Clearly the princess has a few. Somehow, she got into a city under lock, and with a new face and coins that bear the mark of the tainted. As far as Kazimir’s description of the caster and the legionary, the looming warrior at Romeria’s side when she came to the stable must be one and the same, and her hands were covered in blood. The more I think about it, the more I believe Boaz was right about coincidences—though wrong about intentions.
It is all far too coincidental.
Which means Princess Romeria saved Atticus’s life, even though many could argue he doesn’t deserve her grace. How would Atticus feel, knowing this? Would it change his opinion of her?
“Is the priestess finished?”
“I have not been there to check. I cannot imagine she will have the energy to continue too long tonight, though. They have been running her ragged, marking all these mortals, day and night. I hope she has enough in her for the king. Here, this should fit you well.” She holds up the gown.
“It’s beautiful.” I test the material with my fingertips. It’s made of silk with a wide collar and a delicate lace overlay across the waist. “I have never seen anything so fine.”
“It was Princess Romeria’s.”
I pull my hand away as if burned. “Oh, I couldn’t—”
“She will not mind, believe me.” She eases it over my head. “A more generous heart for mortals, I have not seen before.”
I slip my arms through the holes. The material tumbles to the floor.
“Take a look.” Corrin gestures to the dressing mirror.
Even with only candlelight to illuminate the reflection, I feel transformed. Elegant, the silk subtly clinging to my curves. “I should hope Kazimir approves.”
