Page 21 of A Heart Disguised 1

The walls were adorned with rich, crimson tapestries, their surfaces alive with intricate scenes woven in metallic thread. They depicted tales of demon valor and victory, each one more awe-inspiring and slightly terrifying than the last. In the flickering light cast by ornate sconces, the figures seemed to move, as if ready to step out of their fabric prisons at any moment.

A massive fireplace dominated one wall, its mantle carved with the same otherworldly designs as the bedposts. Even unlit, it exuded an aura of warmth and comfort. Plush rugs covered the polished stone floor, their patterns a mesmerizing swirl of deep reds, golds, and blacks.

As I continued to survey the room, my gaze fell upon two familiar and comforting sights. Russet lay curled at the foot of the bed. As if sensing my attention, he lifted his head, his eyesmeeting mine with unwavering devotion. The sight of him eased some of the tension coiled in my chest.

Perched atop an ornate mirror was Starling, her feathers shimmered with an almost magical quality in the soft light of the room. As I watched, she tilted her head, regarding me with what I could have sworn was concern.

The heavy door opened, and Meredith bustled in, her face etched with concern. In her hands, she carried a silver tea service, the scent of chamomile and lavender wafting from the steaming pot. With ease, she set it upon the bedside table before hurrying to my side.

“Master Robin!” Meredith exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and worry. “Are you quite alright, my dear? How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Shall I fetch a healer?”

I attempted to sit up straighter, wincing as my head protested the movement. “I… I believe I’m alright, Meredith,” I assured her, though my voice sounded weak even to my own ears. “But… where am I? How did I come to be here?”

Meredith’s expression softened as she began fussing with the blankets, smoothing them around me with ease. “You’re in your bedchamber in the castle, dear,” she explained, her tone gentle. She turned to pour a cup of fragrant tea. “As for how you came to be here… well…” She paused, a hint of something I couldn’t quite identify flickering across her face. “The duke himself carried you.”

I felt my eyes widen, a fresh wave of heat flooding my cheeks at the thought. “The duke?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “He carried me?”

Meredith nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she pressed the warm cup into my hands. “Indeed, he did. Imagine that—the mighty Duke of Lunaria, with you in his arms. He brought you here himself, refusing to let anyone elsetouch you.” She gestured toward the cup. “Here, drink this. You must be parched.”

Gratefully, I accepted the cup, realizing only then how desperately thirsty I was. The tea was a soothing blend of chamomile and lavender, its warmth spreading through me as I sipped. The image of the duke carrying me flashed unbidden through my mind: his powerful form cradling me against his broad chest. I swallowed hard, unsure if the fluttering in my stomach was fear, embarrassment, or something far more disconcerting.

“Oh gods,” I murmured. “He must think me such a fool. Swooning like that, having to be carried like some fainting maiden…”

Meredith clicked her tongue. “Now, now, none of that,” she chided. “You’ve had quite a shock and we’ve been traveling for days; you’re exhausted. It’s perfectly understandable. I’m sure His Grace understands.”

I wasn’t so certain, but I bowed my head in silent assent. A thought suddenly occurred to me, sending a fresh spike of anxiety through my chest. “Meredith,” I began hesitantly, “what is to become of me now?”

My nursemaid’s expression turned serious. “Well, my dear, you’ll be dining with the duke tonight.”

“D-Dining?” I stammered. “With the duke? Tonight?”

Meredith nodded, her expression grave. “Yes, and you mustn’t keep him waiting. He looks… well, let’s just say he seems displeased enough already.”

Panic clawed at my throat. The thought of facing the duke again so soon, especially after my embarrassing display, was almost too much to bear. “Can’t I just… claim to be unwell?” I pleaded, hating how small and pathetic my voice sounded. “Surely he’d understand if we postponed this… this meeting?”

But Meredith was already shaking her head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Master Robin,” she said firmly. “The duke was quite insistent. And trust me when I say that we don’t want to test his patience any further.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. What would happen at this dinner? Would the duke see through my disguise? Would he be cruel or, worse, indifferent? The uncertainty of it all was maddening.

“Come now,” Meredith said, her tone brooking no argument as she gently pried the empty teacup from my hands. “We need to get you ready. A nice hot bath is just what you need to settle your nerves and make you presentable for His Grace.”

With a firm but gentle touch, Meredith pulled back the luxurious covers and helped me to my feet. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, but her hand at my elbow kept me upright. She guided me toward a door I hadn’t noticed before, its ornate handle gleaming in the soft light. As she opened it, a waft of fragrant steam escaped, carrying with it the soothing scents of rose, lavender, and sandalwood. We stepped inside, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The opulence before me was beyond anything I had ever imagined, let alone experienced.

The bathing chamber, I realized, was every bit as luxurious as the bedchamber, if not more so. The centerpiece of this sanctuary was a tub so vast it resembled a small pool, sunken into the polished marble floor. Its surface was a serene canvas dotted with an array of flower petals—roses in shades of pink and red, alongside delicate white jasmine and vibrant purple lavender. Steam rose in lazy spirals from the water’s surface, carrying with it a symphony of floral scents that wrapped around me like a comforting embrace.

“Goodness,” I muttered, my voice barely audible above the soothing murmur of water cascading into the pool from an exquisitely carved stone fountain. The fountain depicted acherub, its face a mask of serene bliss as water flowed from a jug held in its chubby arms.

The walls of the bathing chamber were a marvel in themselves, tiled in a mosaic of iridescent glass and polished stone that cast an array of colors across the room. A series of tall, narrow windows with frosted glass panes allowed soft, diffused light to filter in, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and ethereal.

Meredith didn’t waste any time. With practiced efficiency, she set about undoing the fastenings of my gown, her fingers moving with a swiftness born of years of experience. I stood there in a daze, enveloped by the floral-scented steam, my mind racing with thoughts of the evening ahead and the intimidating figure of the duke.

Soon, I was reduced to my undergarments. Meredith gave me a gentle nudge toward the pool, and I stepped in hesitantly. The water temperature was perfect—neither too hot nor too cold—enveloping me in a warmth that seemed to seep into my very bones. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of pure contentment, a sound that seemed almost foreign coming from my own lips.

For a brief, blissful moment, I allowed myself to forget about demon lords and political marriages. I pushed off from the edge, floating away into the center of the pool. My arms and legs stretched out as I gazed up at the frescoed ceiling, which depicted scenes of celestial beauty—angels and ethereal beings frolicking among clouds and stars.

“Master Robin.” Meredith’s voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back to reality. “Come here to the edge so I can wash your hair.”

“Just a bit longer,” I pleaded, reluctant to leave my newfound haven.

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