Page 22 of Oath of Rebellion

Helga shook her head. "I'm not sure, but you know how he feels about the forest. He blames it and the druids for your parents' deaths."

Eirwyn stepped into the tub, the warmth washing over her. That had always confused her, as he also claimed that Glathen had assassinated their parents. It couldn't possibly be both. Gastone just used it as an excuse to invade Glathen and ban people from going into the forest.

"You saw how he reacted when he found you in the tavern last month. He almost burned the place down before shipping you off to Glathen."

Eirwyn sighed. "If you think that's best, then so be it. I won't say anything. What will we say instead?"

Helga went to her walk-in closet, muttering, so Eirwyn dipped under the water. When she came up and began to lather her hair, Helga was draping a soft, silk white and red gown on the hook by the mirror.

"We'll say most of the truth. That our carriage was overrun by the forest's magic, that we were rescued by the Hunter Scarlet and her brother, and that they escorted us home."

Eirwyn hummed as she cleaned, finally feeling more at ease in her own skin now that she had scraped off all the dirt and grime. An hour later, Helga put the finishing touches on her hair. She'd pulled it into small braids at the back of her head, then had weaved the rest of her hair into one long twisting braid down her back.

"When you're married, you'll be able to wear your hair up." Helga's eyes met hers. They'd argued for years about the fashion and rules of society. Helga always said she was the leader of her people, and she had to present herself thus. But not even Eirwyn could change the cultural norms.

Working women could wear their hair however fit their station and job. The baker's daughter wore her hair up in a bun on top of her hair. So did Bella, her friend who owned the tavern.

But unattached marriageable noble women wore tiny braids from ear to ear, then the braids were pulled back to the base of the skull. The long hair hung loosely down her back. Those braids could be pulled up off the nape only once they were engaged or married. Hair was supposed to cover the nape as it was too sexy to leave bare.

Eirwyn sighed. It wasn't logical. If she wanted to attract a suitor, shouldn't she bare more skin to entice him? This was just another reason she hated all the rules that dictated her life. The rules were made up and what was convenient didn't matter.

Eirwyn had met her gaze in the mirror defiantly.

"I don't want to get married. You know this. I don't want to be tied down or have yet another man tell me what to do, dictating my every move."

Helga had glanced over her shoulder and whispered back, as if afraid even the walls of her room would hear them speaking.

"You are a princess. It's your duty to marry well, remember? This is what I've been trying to train you for your whole life. Now, you're going to go out there, hold your head up high, and listen and learn. Negotiate this to your advantage."

Eirwyn sighed and stood, straightening her spine to walk out the door. "Very well," she said as she opened it. She turned to look back at Helga. "I'll try to make you proud."

"You always do, child."

Eirwyn snorted at the bald-faced lie and shook her head as she closed it behind her. Helga was the only mother figure she'd ever had. She'd spent years nursing Eirwyn through sickness after sickness.

Eirwyn had just walked a few feet down the plush carpeted hall when her brother boomed her name.

Her heart skipped a beat as she jumped, then she walked faster toward the stairs. Her brother was already walking quickly down the stairs to the west wing as she stopped at the top of the east wing stairs.

"Your majesty." She dipped into a deep curtsy before standing and walking slowly down the stairs. She didn't want to trip when he was already in a mood. Heavens knew he despised how clumsy she was.

He stopped on the landing where the two stairs met and put his hands behind his back. Whereas Eirwyn used just simple gold colored thread on her dresses, her brother used actual thread made from gold. His buttons were jewels, and his tailored blue jacket fit him like a glove. It had an intricate but subtle gold pattern that matched the gold cording on his shoulder.

A red silk cravat was tied in a fancy knot. It matched his black pants perfectly. She glanced down. Even his boots were shiny and clean, a black that rivaled his perfectly gelled hair.

He was the exact opposite of Knox. Clean, sharp cut, and expensive tastes.

Knox was more down to earth, dirty, and harder to understand. She'd spent two days with the man and yet she felt like she didn't know him at all, yet somehow she felt safer and trusted him more than her own brother.

"Where have you been? The Chancellor arrived back yesterday and said you refused to take the Southern Road home. Don't tell me you went through the Feral Forest."

She reached the landing and pursed her lips, nodding demurely. He threw up his hands and turned on his heel to walk down the central staircase.

"What have I told you about that forest? It's an abomination and should be destroyed. It killed our parents, Eirwyn."

"I thought Glathen sent assassins to kill our parents? Isn't that why we've been at war for a decade?"

He glared over his shoulder, a curl of smoke blowing from his nose. "Don't sass me, sister. You know that forest is off limits. Do not go near it again, do you understand?"

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