“Yes, at the trough, like a barn animal.” Her nose wrinkles with scorn. “I would prefer yours.”
I really don’t think you would. “Fine.”
Her eyes flash with enthusiasm. “Are you saying we have a deal?”
“Yes.” Just not one she’ll be expecting. For the first time since Corrin insisted on hiding my scars to keep the truth of the attack secret, I can appreciate the benefit of guarding that knowledge. If Bexley knew the truth, I wouldn’t have anything to barter with now. “In private, and only after you bring me info that leads me directly to these women.”
“That is a reasonable request.”
“It’s urgent, Bexley. The sooner, the better. And let her know the royal guard has the description Kaders gave us. They’re looking for her.”
She licks her lips. “Is there anything else you can tell me to help guide my search?”
“Your Highness!” Dagny bellows. Beside her, Odier stands with his hands on his hips and his eyes wide with horror, and I realize my fingers are still grasping the indigo fabric.
I release it as if the cloth burned me. To Bexley, I whisper, “One of them may go by the name Ianca.”
“That is helpful.”
“Be tactful.”
“I am not some prattling servant,” she snaps, anger flashing in her eyes. “You would not believe the secrets I keep. Secrets that could sink a great many influential people if I had aspirations for playing the games of these fools who call themselves noble.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She sniffs, but my apology seems to calm her. “I imagine finding her won’t be as difficult as getting a message to you without notice. But I will think of a way. And I would suggest you be very careful who you trust within the walls of that castle.”
“Funny. I was told to not trust you.”
“And you shouldn’t, but at least I will never deign to wear the skin of a devoted ally to hide the fact that I am your foe.” She curtsies. “I look forward to seeing you at the royal repast, though for whatever game you two are playing, I hope you and the king can put on a better show than you have thus far.”
Mika is hanging out the window, stroking the muzzle of a horse within reach when we arrive back at the carriage.
“I don’t believe a stroll through the rookery as you requested is advisable, Your Highness,” Elisaf says.
“Maybe not, given our passengers.” I’m sure Gracen is feeling as discombobulated as I was the night I woke up on the royal grounds.
“Also, because you’ve spent all our coin. We wouldn’t have much to dole out.”
I struggle to suppress my smile at the guards trailing us, their arms laden with bolts of fabrics—all of them necessary, according to Dagny and Odier. “Maybe tomorrow, then.”
“The king will be pleased to hear it.”
I snort. “I’m sure.”
Elisaf glances to the nearest guard, and he lowers his voice. “What did Bexley want?”
I falter over the truth. Surely, whatever I tell Elisaf will make its way back to Zander as it has so far. But Zander also insisted on keeping what we learned from Tyree between us. Who is it among them that he doesn’t trust? It can’t be Elisaf, could it? If that were the case, why would he assign him to my protection?
And yet Bexley’s warning has slid under my skin and taken root, and I can’t shake this sense of foreboding that she knows far more about my situation than she’s letting on. “To make sure I call you Eli from now on.” Zander’s conspiracy theory is making me as paranoid as him. Still, if Zander wants Elisaf knowing about the seer, he can tell him.
He shakes his head and chuckles, but he doesn’t press.
Mika sees me and waves his misshapen hand emphatically, as if we’re old friends. It’s comforting to know that Danthrin might have abused him but he didn’t steal his ability to still be a child.
An idea strikes me. “Do you think Wendeline could help him?”
Elisaf scratches his chin in thought. “It might be too old a wound, but it is worth her looking at. I will call for her to meet us at the castle.”
I have a better idea. “No need to drag her all the way out. Let’s stop at the sanctum on the way.”
“Try that.”
Mika holds his injured hand in the air in front of him and extends his fingers as far as he can. While they’re not entirely straight, they’ve certainly improved. He grins.
To Gracen, Wendeline says, “I was able to fix the nerve damage, but I can’t do much for the scars. Mortal skin is more delicate, and it’s been too long since it happened. But, with some daily stretching exercises, he should have full use of it again.”
“Thank you, Priestess. This is more than we could ever have prayed for.” She smooths her hand over her swollen belly.
Wendeline tracks the move with a tired smile. “How far along are you?”
“Eight months. This one has been particularly difficult.”
Wendeline reaches forward, but then hesitates. “May I?”
With a wary glance my way, Gracen nods.
Wendeline presses her hand against Gracen’s belly and closes her eyes. She’s been picking at her fingernails since she healed me yesterday. For many hours, I would guess. They’re down to the quick, and in one spot, painfully so. That’s the sign of a person who is nervous, conflicted.
Bexley’s warning has rattled me.
“I’ve never met a priestess before,” Gracen admits. “Not a real one, anyway.”
I’m unsure what she means by that, but now is not the time to ask.
When Wendeline opens her eyes again, they’re shining. “You have no reason to worry. Your baby is healthy and strong. She will be born soon.”
“She?” Gracen lets out a breathy laugh. “Another girl. That’s … wonderful news.” Her smile falters, as if it’s not.
A low wail carries through the sanctum, turning the few heads of people who are here for midday prayer. Lilou fell asleep in Dagny’s arms on the carriage ride and was content to stay asleep while the sturdy seamstress strolled the aisles, but she’s awake now and searching for her mother. “I should get her before she begins to shriek.” Gracen heaves herself out of the pew and waddles away. Mika trots closely behind, closing and opening his hand with fascination.
“She doesn’t seem particularly thrilled about another girl.”
Wendeline’s gaze trails mine. “I sense she has seen great hardship in her young life, and she fears her daughters will face the same.”
“Not anymore. At least, I hope not.” I’m not sure how much better a life she and her family will have under Zander’s employ, but I am sure it will be infinitely safer than the one Danthrin offered.
Wendeline stares at me a long moment before startling, as if catching herself. “I cannot believe you marched up to the lord’s booth and demanded to take them all.”
Neither can I, after the fact. I shrug. “If I’m playing this role, I might as well get some enjoyment from it, right? Hopefully that monster is suffocating in the bed of tarts and pudding cakes he made for himself.”