Page 40 of Lethal Souls

“May I ask you a question?” she asks once I’ve slipped my arms into it.

“Depends on what it is.” I side-eye her as I tie the robe at my waist.

“Is it true you’re the Lady Monarch of Blackwater?”

I face her full on to study her up close. She’s shorter than me with dark brown freckles on the apples of her cheeks and bridge of her nose. Her eyes are warm brown, her lashes full, lips supple.

She’s older than me, judging by the wrinkles on her neck and the crows’ feet around her eyes, but there’s still a youthful energy to her.

As much as I want to answer her question, I don’t. For one, I’m sure she already knows the answer. And two, ever since choosing to stay in Vakeeli, Caz has constantly warned me not to tell strangers who I am…even if I suspect they’re aware.

“I only ask because I find it inspiring,” Sylvie goes on with a hopeful smile. “I’ve served many people but never a woman like me. With our skin, being a darkie and all, well…you know how it is. We are not as respected as the others.” Her eyes drop, and her smile collapses.

Oh. I see. I take a step closer to her. “I’m not the Lady Monarch yet. But I will be one day. Perhaps that’ll change things, but in the meantime, please don’t call yourself a darkie. That’s such an ugly term, and you’re much more than that.”

She gasps, eyes lighting up. “It is so very bold of you to become Lady Monarch.”

My head tilts. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it makes you more of a target. Not only for being Monarch Harlow’s wife but for being one of us.”

I frown—not at her, but the statement.

“I—I’m sorry,” she adds hurriedly. “I don’t mean to say any of this to scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” I return.

“No,” she says with a faint smile. “You’re not. And I don’t think you ever should be. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard many stories about Monarch Harlow.”

“They’re awful, I’m sure.”

“So bloody awful,” Sylvie laughs. “But he treats his people well. His territory. Any monarch who takes care of their people instead of taking advantage of them is a winner in my book.” She presses a gentle hand on my upper arm. “Come with me, dear. I know you don’t feel safe in this castle, but I promise you’re safe with me.”

For some reason, I believe her.

I walk with her, remembering the clothes she tossed. “By the way, I chose that outfit to be discreet,” I inform her. “I don’t trust The Council, but there is one of them in particular that I don’t want to reveal more of myself to than I have to. Honestly, if I could hide my face, I would.”

Sylvie’s eyes widen as we near a section of the bathroom where a wooden vanity with a mirror is placed. “I see,” she says. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep your attire modest.”

“Thank you.” I smile at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She picks up a bottle of gold oil and stands behind me, pouring some into the palm of her hand.

“May I?” She gestures to the towel on my head.

“Sure.” I remove the towel, and my locs swim to my shoulders.

She works her fingers through them, applying the oil to my scalp and kneading gently.

I sigh. It feels really good.

As she does it, I notice the smile on her lips, as if she’s done this to many people before and has enjoyed it every single time. Then I realize what it is about her that’s so comforting.

She reminds me of Della, Caz’s former house maiden.

I drop my gaze and study my lap. An intense feeling takes over me. It’s completely overwhelming, so much so that my hands begin to shake.

My vision blurs as I think of all the losses and death that has happened because of me.

If I’d never come here, Della would still be alive.

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