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While I went into the bathroom and the pre-poured bath, Luther moved to the sitting-room door. "Erhaird, the Princess needs to eat before we go down to see her uncle."
Throwing my dress to the floor against the wall along with the ruined undergarment, I slipped into the pool-sized tub and started washing. The tenderness of my bruised wrists made me cringe a little. Sliding into the tub behind me, Luther pulled me into his lap.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as he took the sponge and started washing me gently.
"Her mother poisoned her mind; convinced her that if I produced no heirs, then her children would have a right to the throne. She confesses to helping in the abduction attempt, but only because they assured her you would not be harmed. She denies vehemently any knowledge of the attempt on my life."
"Do you believe her?"
His hands paused. "While I want to believe her, it wouldn't change what Padget has done."
Prying the sponge from Luther's clenched fist, I turned to wash him. His eyes focused on me intently as I sponged his entire body. "Padget isn't capable of hurting you, Luther. I believe she thought they would just take me home, but neither of us could take a new partner to have children because we are joined." Stilling my hands, I lifted my eyes to his. "Don't kill her, Luther. Naivety shouldn't be a death sentence."
Focused on my lips, Luther stroked my cheek. "She committed treason, Zira. There is only one punishment for that."
Closing my eyes, I remembered the Broadcaster's vidscreen depicting my parents kneeling, waiting for the death blow.
"Okay." Luther exhaled dynamically. "What would you do to punish her?"
My mouth was drowning in saliva that I struggled to swallow. "I'd charge Padget with conspiracy to commit treason and banish her. I'd send her to be enslaved in your father's palats as your mother's maid, perhaps." Luther's eyes went wide. "Then, I'd be looking into her mother because that gives us a lead to our on-planet dangers."
"Prince Saboa," Anberon's voice came from the bedroom. The elite knew not to enter the bathroom while I was in there. "The Avalonians have arrived, and we have food for the princess."
Placing me aside, Luther stepped out of the bath. "We will be right out," Luther responded.
Rising out of the water, I started drying as I moved into the wardrobe to find a new dress. "This one." Luther pulled out a dark red silk dress with black ribboning through it. It was an autumn dress with wrist-length black lace sleeves, but within the temperature-controlled palats, I could wear it in summer. Realizing that Luther was trying to hide the bruising on my wrists, I took it from him. Then, turning to find a black undergarment, I quickly dressed.
Leaving my hair out to let it dry somewhat, I quickly ate while Anberon briefed Luther on what they dug up on my uncle. Effectively, nothing more than I'd already told him. "Have you eaten enough?" Luther asked politely when he'd heard all there was to hear.
Taking another bite, I piled my hair up into a bun to try to keep cool. Fortunately, the palats climate controls were cold compared to outside. Unfortunately, it was set to Cyran temperature, which was still warmer than our hottest days in Avalonia.
In the outer quarters, our guard fell in around us. "I am sure I do not need to say it, Zira, but you are here as a spectator only. So, do not argue with me in there."
"And here I thought you wanted me as a bodyguard just in case my uncle turns out to be an assassin."
Luther turned with a look so fierce that I took two steps backward, backing into Jervaise. "You do not put yourself at risk again. If you recognize a threat to either of us, you will let my guard know and put yourself amongst your own guard to stay safe. Understood?"
Still pressed against Jervaise's chest, his hands holding my shoulders to stop me from falling or maybe running away, I nodded. Gritting his jaw, Luther then continued towards the elevator. I was still trembling in the same spot when he dropped out of sight.
Cyrans were scary. Their sheer size and strength dictated that your natural response should be fear. Add a bad temper to it, and they made a Quig seem almost as friendly as a house pet. "Princess?" Jervaise prompted from behind.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked quietly, still shocked by Luther's rage.
"He's worried about you, Princess," Erhaird reassured. "Cyran women are built tougher than you, and even they would not have taken that knife for him."
There was that judging me by my size again. You would think after witnessing me taking out an assassin and dismembering several others, they'd consider me a little less frail.
Taking my elbow, Erhaird guided me forward gently. "Let us not keep the prince waiting. He is angry. You do not want to leave him alone with your uncle for too long."
We caught up to Luther just outside the throne room. My uncle and cousin were waiting in the alcove surrounded by Royal Guard. Not even bothering to look at them, Luther marched straight into the throne room. When I stopped to make sure they were visually okay, my uncle bowed his head at me. Returning the gesture, I followed Luther inside.
Taking my place slightly behind the throne, our guard fanned out around us. Commander Stark was the last to enter the room. He looked like he'd been traveling for days and was yet to bathe or sleep. "Commander, you are back. How did you go?" Luther inquired as Stark bent knee before his prince.
"It was successful, Prince Saboa. I will detail everything for you after we tend your guests." Stark came to stand by me. "Princess." He bowed his head respectfully.
"Commander Stark," I replied politely.
He'd known, of course. He'd caught us together once in Hartwin's bedroom at their estate. And after, when it was over, I'd broken into his room after he'd returned to the palats, just to sleep where I could smell him. Stark found me. He'd held me while I cried, then teleported me home and made me promise never to come to his house again. I never did. Not even for the annual soldier's revelry, which usually drew every single socialite on Praldia. I'd never even gone near the boundary or the place by the river that Hartwin made ours.
