“My compliments and gratitude, Madam Rathbone,” Rafe said, “for taking such good care of the princess.” He unclasped the fur cape around my shoulders and handed it to a servant. I sat in a chair next to him, and that was when I took in exactly who was present. Sven, Tavish, and Orrin were all dressed in the deep Dalbretch blues as well, their appearances transformed with a razor, soap, and crisply pressed clothes—officers in the powerful army that Sven had told me the history of so proudly. Sven, like Colonel Bodeen, who sat at the opposite end, wore a gold braid on his shoulder too. There was nothing to distinguish Rafe and his position, but they certainly didn’t keep the trimmings of a king on hand at an outpost.
Colonel Bodeen jumped in with introductions. Greetings were cordial but reserved, and then servants brought in the first of many courses served on small white porcelain plates—warm goat cheese balls rolled in herbs; finger-size rolls of chopped meat wrapped in thin strips of smoked pork; fried flat breads shaped into bite-size bowls and filled with warm spiced beans. Each course was served on a fresh plate, and we hadn’t even gotten to the main course yet. You’ll see.
Yes, I saw, though I was sure Colonel Bodeen was setting a more extravagant table tonight, to honor not only their returned comrades, but the king they had thought was lost. Jeb’s absence was due to the physician’s orders for rest. No one else seemed to notice that Griz and Kaden weren’t present, though I was certain they would both have been extremely uncomfortable at the table. At times I felt I was in a dreamlike fog. Only this morning we had been on the backs of horses fighting for our lives, and now I was navigating a sea of porcelain, silver, glowing candelabras, and a thousand tinkling glasses. Everything seemed brighter and louder than it was.
It was a celebratory evening and I noted the effort to keep conversation light. Colonel Bodeen brought out his revered red-eye and poured Sven a glass. He announced that another celebration was in the works that would include the entire outpost. It would give all the soldiers a chance to toast their new king and—Colonel Bodeen added hesitantly—their future queen.
“Marabella parties are unmatched,” Vilah said with excitement.
“It lifts spirits,” Bodeen added.
“And there’s dancing,” Madam Rathbone said.
I assured them all I was eager to partake.
Between courses, toasts were offered, and as the wine and spirits flowed, caution was forgotten and more conversation was directed at me.
“Madam Rathbone told me you set a fine table,” I said to Colonel Bodeen, “and I must admit I am quite impressed.”
“The Marabella outpost is known for its exceptional food,” Fiona, Lieutenant Belmonte’s wife, answered, her voice filled with pride.
“The better fed a soldier, the better they can serve,” Colonel Bodeen explained, as if the food wasn’t an extravagance, but a battle strategy.
The memory of the Komizar’s assured grin and tall shining silos shimmered behind my eyes. Great armies march on their stomachs.
I stared down at the plate before me. A smear of orange sauce and a pheasant leg bone lay upon it. There had been no plates of bones to pass before the meal, no acknowledgment of sacrifice. Its absence left a strange hole in me that begged to be filled. I wasn’t sure what had happened to my own tether of bones. It had probably been thrown away along with my bloody and torn clothes as something unclean and savage. I discreetly slipped the bone from the plate and hid it in my napkin before the servant could take it away.
“I can’t imagine what you suffered at the hands of those savages,” Madam Hague said.
“If you mean the Vendans, yes, some were savage, but many others were extremely kind.”
She raised her eyebrows as if doubtful.
Captain Hague threw back another glass of wine. “But you must regret your decision to flee the wedding. All this—”
“No, Captain. I don’t regret my decision.”
The table grew silent.
“If I had been shipped off to Dalbreck, there are valuable things I never would have learned.”
Lieutenant Dupre leaned forward. “Surely there are easier ways to learn lessons of youth—”
“Not lessons, Lieutenant. Cold, hard facts. The Vendans have amassed an army and devised weapons that could wipe out both Dalbreck and Morrighan.”
Dubious glances were exchanged. A few eyes came close to outright rolling. Poor delirious girl.
Rafe put his hand on mine. “Lia, we can talk about this later. Tomorrow, with the colonel and other officers.” He quickly suggested we retire and excused us. As we walked past Sven and Bodeen, I eyed the near-empty bottle of red-eye.
I grabbed it from the table and sniffed. “Colonel Bodeen, do you mind if I take the rest of this with me?”
His eyes widened. “I’m afraid it’s very strong brew, Your Highness.”
“Yes, I know.”
He looked at Rafe for approval, and Rafe nodded. I was getting quite weary of everyone deferring to Rafe before answering me.
“It’s not for me,” I explained, then shot an accusing stare at Sven. “We did promise Griz a glass, didn’t we?” Bodeen remained gracious, but several of the dinner guests cleared their throats, and stared at Bodeen, waiting for a refusal to share the red-eye. I understood their disapproval. They had just learned of an entire platoon’s demise at the hands of Vendans. Still, everyone couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that Kaden and Griz had suffered injuries to help save our lives.
Rafe took the bottle from me and handed it to a sentry standing at the door. “See that the large fellow in the surgeon’s barracks gets this.” Rafe looked back at me and raised his brows as if to ask if the problem was solved, and I nodded my satisfaction.
* * *
“These are your quarters,” Rafe said, pulling aside the curtained entry of the tent. Even in the dim glowing light of an overhead chandelier, I was met with a shock of color. A lush indigo carpet swirling with flowers covered the entirety of the floor. A blue velvet quilt, white satin pillows, and fur blankets were piled high on a canopied bed topped with finials carved in the shapes of lion heads. Elegant blue drapes were gathered back with gold cording, waiting to be pulled, and a squat stove with an intricate grill was nearby. Fresh cornflowers graced a side table, and a small dining table with two chairs was in a corner. It was more luxurious than my own chamber at home.
“And your quarters?” I asked.
“Over there.”
A dozen yards away, a similar tent had been erected. A short distance that seemed so far. We hadn’t slept apart since we left the Sanctum. I had grown accustomed to feeling his arm around my waist, the warmth of his breath on my neck, and I couldn’t imagine him not being with me tonight, especially now that we finally had what might be called real privacy.
I smoothed back a lock from his face. His lids were heavy. “You’ve gotten no rest, have you?”
“Not yet. There will be time for that later—”
“Rafe,” I said, stopping him. “Some things can’t be put off until later. We still haven’t talked about your parents. Are you all right?”
He let the tent curtain drop, blocking out the lantern light, and we were in darkness again. “I’m fine,” he said.