“We’re done.”
“Lia—”
“Get out!” I yelled, shoving him away.
He stumbled back and stared at me, stunned. “You’re throwing me out?”
“No, I don’t think it’s possible to throw you out. You are after all King Jaxon, and you decide who comes and goes here—or so I’ve been told. But I suggest you leave before I find another way to dispatch you.” I placed my hand at my side over my sheathed dagger.
Pure rage flushed his face.
He turned and stormed off, nearly ripping the curtain from the door.
We’d see which of us came to our senses first.
* * *
Madam Rathbone appeared at my tent early the next morning, along with Vilah and Adeline. Curiously, Madam Hague accompanied them, though she never had before. Inwardly I sighed. Yes, the officers and all their wives had heard our ugly argument, and certainly Madam Hague was hoping for additional juicy details, even if the official purpose of their visit was to deliver the accessories to go with my dress for the party that evening. Adeline held up a silver chain-mail belt encrusted with sapphires. Once again, I marveled at the extravagance, especially here at this remote outpost. Next Vilah laid out a jeweled silver pauldron, embossed with an intricate pattern.
“Tell me, have Dalbretch women ever actually worn these in battle?”
“Oh, yes!” Vilah answered. “That’s why they’re part of our traditional dress. Marabella was a great warrior before she was a queen.”
“But that was hundreds of years ago,” Madam Hague added, raising her brows in distaste. “Our ladies and queens don’t go to battle anymore. It’s unnecessary now.”
Don’t be so sure, I was tempted to say.
Madam Rathbone took a last inventory of everything laid out on the table and said, “We’ll be by early to help you dress.”
“And do your hair,” Adeline said.
“With silver cording,” Vilah added clasping her hands together in anticipation.
I heard a strained eagerness in their voices, as if they were trying to erase the dark pall of last night’s argument. “You’ll all be busy getting ready yourselves,” I answered. “I can manage on my own.”
“Really?” Madam Hague asked doubtfully. “Is that how it’s done back in Morrighan? No one to attend you?” Her lip lifted with patronizing pity.
“Yes,” I sighed. “We’re nothing but savages in Morrighan. It’s a wonder your king would arrange a marriage with one of our kind at all.”
Her lashes fluttered downward and she left with a faint apology that she had much to do that day, but with no apology for her insult. Perhaps now that her king had lashed out at me, she felt free to do the same.
* * *
Six guards arrived at my tent a short time later. Percy, their leader, informed me they were my escorts for the day. So, this was Rafe’s version of being free to go where I wished? Six guards—even within the walls of Marabella. I supposed I should take it as a compliment that Rafe held my skills in higher regard than he would admit. I immediately decided I had many places I would need to go today, not only so the entire outpost could share in the amusement of six guards trotting behind me, but also because, one way or another, I would be leaving and I needed to attend to details.
First I went to the lower paddock, checking on our Vendan horses, now also in the custody of the king. I eyed the lower gate where horses came and went. It was heavily guarded. We’d never get past that, but at least I knew where the horses and tack were. I’d figure out the rest later. Next I went to the cook’s pantry. The cook was not pleased with my intrusion, saying he would gladly bring something to my tent. I pretended I wasn’t sure what I wanted, then perused the shelves and cold cellar. Unfortunately, nearly everything was stored in large bulky bags or containers. I took one of his bowls and filled it with handfuls of pine nuts, hard soda bread, and some dried sweet figs. He eyed my strange assortment of food and glanced at my abdomen. I smiled sheepishly, letting him draw his own conclusions.
Next I trudged over to the physician’s barracks to consult with the surgeon. Kaden and Eben were gone to the showers, but the surgeon was in the middle of examining Griz’s wound. He showed me that it was healing nicely in most places, but one section of flesh was slower to knit. He said he felt confident that it would heal, then shot a stern glance at Griz. “With a little more rest.”
Griz balked, saying he was fine now.
“But you won’t be if you’re lifting heavy saddles on and off a horse twice a day,” I said. “Or, the heavens forbid, if you should have to swing your sword.”
Griz smiled, his eyes twinkling with mayhem. “Anywhere you’d like me to swing it in particular?”
My stomach burned. He had heard our argument too, which meant everyone in the dining room had. Surely Kaden gloated over this development, but when I saw him in the work yard later, there was only concern in his eyes.
He spoke in Vendan so the guards wouldn’t understand us. “You’re all right?” he asked.