Chapter 27

The shy wantnothing more than to avoid notice.

~ Writings of the Divine Servants

After checking on her brother and collapsing into a barracks bed a ranger had guided her to, Kaylina slept straight through the night. Unfortunately, thanks to her overindulgence in mead, she woke with a headache and wasn’t refreshed at all when Vlerion knocked and called for her through the door.

The sky was barely getting light, and two inches of snow smothered the courtyard outside the window. She didn’t want to train. Further, she worried that Vlerion would say something about her head rubbing the night before, about how it had been foolish and he shouldn’t have let her touch him. Sure, he had put an arm around her shoulders, but it had been an act of sympathy, nothing else. Apparently, he didn’t even feel as much for her as he did for Targon.

“Like you should expect that,” she muttered, rolling out of bed. “They’ve known each other for years.”

Kaylina was nothing more than a random woman who’d stirred his emotions because she’d been in danger.

Since she hadn’t thought to grab her pack or her pajamas—only the mead, the priority, of course—she’d slept naked, letting her smoky clothes air out. Had she been in the warm climate of her homeland, she would have washed them, trusting they would dry by morning, but her experience with wet clothes here was that nothing dried quickly.

When another demanding knock followed the first, she wrapped the blanket around herself and shuffled over to answer it. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Vlerion stood in the hall, his mouth open to call again, but his lips froze as he considered her.

She hadn’t thought she had anything hanging out or drooping, but the tops of her breasts were showing. Grumbling, she pulled the blanket higher, though that made it gap open at her hip. Damn it.

Vlerion recovered, lifting his gaze to avoid seeing anything below her neck. “Dress. The queen wants to see you.”

“Uh?”

“The correct response is yes, my lord, right away.” He was in a snit this morning, wasn’t he?

“Okay.” Kaylina was about to point out that the only clothes she had were the rumpled smoky ones she’d worn yesterday, but he thrust a folded garment at her. Was that a dress? And slippers? Maybe her regular trousers and shoes, even if they’d been clean, wouldn’t have been deemed appropriate to wear in a queen’s presence. “Thanks.”

When she reached for them, the blanket drooped again. Maybe she should have hunted for a clothespin…

He glanced down at her bared skin but only for an instant before pulling his gaze to her eyes. “I suggest you rein in your snark and add Your Majesty to the end of most of your sentences. The queen is no one to be trifled with.”

Concern darkened his eyes for a moment, and that made her uneasy.

“Is she… a threat? She likes food and drink and music, doesn’t she? She writes that culture column for the newspaper. I think I told you I’m hoping she might come to my meadery one day.”

“She does like those things, fine dining and the symphony and plays, but she has also made women disappear.”

“Disappear?” For some reason, Kaylina thought of the plant in the castle, vines snaking out to wrap around the necks of rangers.

“She’s the queen, so nobody has ever made a formal accusation against her, but she’s rumored to have knowledge of poisons and be vengeful when her husband’s eyes wander.”

“How much wandering can the king’s eyes do? Isn’t he in his eighties?”

“His late seventies.”

“Such a difference.”

“He had many mistresses when he was younger, before and after he took her as his second wife. That has never sat well with her. Be respectful, and keep the buttons on that dress fastened to the collar.”

Trepidation crept into Kaylina. Why wasn’t the north anything like how the newspapers portrayed it? She’d heard nothing about the bad traits of the king and queen, nor had she known anything about the rebellion brewing.

“The newspapers are not accurate,” she protested before realizing Vlerion might not follow her train of thought.

But he nodded, as if he understood perfectly. “The crown controls the press. The journalists aren’t foolish enough to irk the king or queen with anything they publish. Dress.” He pointed at the clothes.

“I will, but why does she want to see me? How does she know about me? And, uh, are you going to stand there and watch?”

“Only if you continue to ask me questions.” Vlerion gripped the edge of the door, prepared to depart, but he answered her other queries first. “Targon likely reported your existence to the king when the queen was nearby. It’s still required that the ranger captain gets permission to allow a commoner to train. He would have mentioned your anrokk trait as a justification.”

“And the queen would care about that? Why?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the only thing I can imagine catching her interest. I doubt my mother told her about your mead.”

“You don’t think that’s a possibility?”

“They’re not friends. It’s through my father’s side of the family that the curse exists and that my family has ties to the crown.”

Kaylina nodded. She’d assumed that.

She shook out the dress to look at it. The pale-blue fabric with white trim and lace around the collar reminded her of something she’d worn to Gods Day when she’d been a girl. The hem of the dress would go past her calves, if not trip her as she walked.

“I don’t think the king’s going to ogle me,” she said.

“Then I chose correctly. Don’t arrive in the blanket, or there will be trouble.” Vlerion stepped back to close the door but not before glancing toward her chest, where the blanket had sagged again. A brief hungry look gleamed in his eyes before he disappeared.

The threat of the beast might have been there as well, but all Kaylina could focus on was that he, whether he cared for her or not, wanted her. She tried to tell herself that wasn’t a good thing, that it would lead to trouble, but she couldn’t help but feel titillated that the stiff and aloof Lord Vlerion might have woken up thinking about her, a lowly commoner from a remote part of the kingdom.

“Focus,” she told herself, shaking out the dress again.

If the queen was dangerous, Kaylina would have to be careful this morning. She couldn’t imagine why such an important woman would want to see her when her husband might be attacked by assassins that very night. The queen might be a target too. Shouldn’t concern about that be consuming her thoughts?

Unless the rangers hadn’t told her about the possibility of an assassination? Because they didn’t want her to worry?

Well, if they hadn’t, Kaylina would. The woman had a right to know she might soon be in danger.