Page 59 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

I’d left to keep them safe, and I supposed one benefit to this mess was putting even more distance between us than I ever could’ve managed on my own.

Someone had broughta bathing tub into my room while I’d been gone, and I took a quick bath, trying not to dwell on thoughts of the last time I’d stepped into a tub. Once finished, I reluctantly unwrapped the new dress and laid it out on the bed.

Fortunately, it was not a complicated pattern, and I didn’t require any help to do up the lacing in the front. Unfortunately, however, the size was slightly too small and I looked down in dismay at how the fabric clung to my body like a second skin, and pushed my breasts up below my chin.

It could be worse, I supposed. I could still be covered in blood.

The sailor—or perhaps he was a servant, I wasn’t sure—returned in due course, and knocked three times on my door. I hurried to let him in, already dreaming of whatever food might await me.

The freckled sailor looked up at me, his eyes lingering on my head. “You’re not ready, miss?” He phrased it like a question. “Should I come back?”

“No, I’m quite ready,” I said quickly, trying to usher him out the door. “Let’s go.”

He shook his head vigorously. “The crown, miss. I was told ‘specially to make sure you didn’t forget it.”

I gnashed my teeth.To argue, or to eat?

“Fine,” I said viciously, and dashed back across the room to snatch the crown from the bed. Shoving it on my head with little care for how it was positioned, or the state of my wild, curling hair, I grimaced and stomped back to the door. “I’m ready.”

The sailor looked like he wanted to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Very good, miss.”

I followed him out onto the deck of the ship, feeling like I was walking the gangway to my death. We reached the opposite end of the ship, but instead of climbing the stairs to the navigation deck as before, the sailor gestured me toward a large wooden door. I sighed, bracing myself, and knocked.

24

AMBROSE

ABOARD THE FORESIGHT

“Enter,” I called through the door, then waited with bated breath as Lonnie stepped inside.

Her face was screwed up in a scowl, and she gave a disdainful glance around the room as she entered, her eyes finally landing on me. “Am I up to your standards now, my lord?”

I raised my eyebrows. It had been quite some time since anyone called me that. “Sir” or “Commander” was much more common throughout the rebel army, but the phrase sent my mind back to a time long before. It felt like an entirely different person’s life, and I supposed, in some ways it was.

“You look lovely,” I said honestly. “Would you like to sit?”

Her scowl deepened, and she gave another cursory glance to the room before moving stiffly to take the seat across from me. I wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but I assumed this wasn’t it.

The cabin looked hardly different from the one she’d occupied for the last several days. It was another office type room, with wood paneled walls and bookshelves on both ends. The only difference was this room was slightly larger, and instead of a bed, an intricately carved dining table stood in the center of the room.

The table was adorned with a crimson tablecloth, draped carefully over its smooth surface. Glimmering silver utensils were neatly arranged beside plates of delicate porcelain, each one bearing an intricate floral pattern. A golden candelabra stood in the center, its flickering flames casting a warm glow over the scene.

I reached for a bottle of wine standing near the center of the table. “Would you like some wine?”

“No.” She shook her head and the crown placed haphazardly over her wild curls tilted dangerously to one side. “I know better than to drink fairy wine.”

I furrowed my brow. “I don’t think that will be a problem for you.”

She returned my confused look with one of her own. “It always has been before.”

That was…interesting.

I’d assumed, given her magic and her family, that she’d have no trouble with the kinds of enchantments that often felled average humans. Was it only the wine that affected her, or other spells as well? Music, perhaps? Could she break an oath? I silently added this to the mental list of questions I’d planned to ask her.

I poured a glass of wine for her anyway, and passed it across the table. She took it, but didn’t drink, and a stony silence once again fell over the room.

“How are you enjoying the ship?” I asked.

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