Page 59 of Fragile Oath

Anna was waitingin my room when I arrived after my conversation with my uncle. She eagerly greeted me as soon as the doors opened, her endless stream of words cutting off Oliver’s goodbye.

Her large brown eyes welled with tears as she looked me over, fretting and fussing until I had assured her more than once that I was all right.

It wasn’t true, of course. Not when memories haunted me in every corner of the room. Near the merrily crackling fireplace rested the plush, cream-colored chairs where Davin had asked me to marry him, not for games or politics or necessity, but simply because he wantedme.

Then, in the center of the polished floors, just beneath the delicate golden chandelier, was the spot where Alexei had laid waste to that dream with a hand over my mouth and a whispered threat in my ear.

It was a cacophony of memories, like standing on a ballroom floor with a different musician at every corner, each playing a different song. The clamor rose until even my favorite melodies were tainted by the discordant screech of the others, scraping against my mind like a silver fork on a dinner plate.

Anna’s gentle hand touched my shoulder to usher me toward my bath, and the music in my head quieted to a bearable din.

She took special care tonight, choosing the finest oils and soaps to scrub me clean. All the while, my thoughts raced toward the Assembly chamber, wondering what was happening with Davin. The hot water had a soothing effect, making it easier for me to sort through my thoughts, but it didn’t allay any of my worry for him.

Would he lose Lithlinglau? After all the work we had done to secure his vote, to keep his home, would he lose it now anyway? Or would he face imprisonment? Exile?

Surely not more than that, not with his uncle on the throne.

Like my thoughts had summoned him, there was a familiar double tap on the door. It was still more subdued than the one I had become accustomed to, instilled with a reluctance borne of my flight and our subsequent…whatever was happening with us.

Anna answered, and his voice floated toward me through the cracked lavatory door. I was torn between wanting to throw myself from the tub to see that he was all right for myself and being grateful I had a reason to hide when I was already feeling so raw tonight.

Then she closed the door, rendering the consideration moot.

“He’s right as rain, his lairdship,” she insisted, holding out a towel for me to wrap myself in.

I got to my feet, stepping out of the tub and into her towel while I contemplated the slightly false note in her words.

“There was nothing amiss?” I asked.

“He has a couple of extra guards, but nothin’ to be worrit about, milady.”

Sure, it wasn’t.I swallowed back another wave of concern, giving myself over to Anna’s ministrations.

Anna must have been grappling with her own kind of anxiety, or else she just sensed mine. Either way, she seemed to drag out the act of readying me for bed, finding an array of excuses not to leave me alone in my room. Once I had eaten most of the meal she ordered up for me, she gently placed a mug of hot tea in my hands. Judging by the strong scent, it was heavily spiked with whiskey.

I eagerly sipped at it, grateful for the way the alcohol warmed my body and helped slow my rapidly beating heart.

Just as I was nearing a place calm enough to consider sleep, a knock sounded from the hallway. I went still. It wasn’t Davin’s, not even the more subdued version he had adopted on the road, and it wasn’t Gallagher’s. Gwyn didn’t bother knocking at all.

The door opened before either Anna or I could answer it, though, revealing a face that was entirely foreign to me.

Or nearly so.

“Your Highness,” Anna dipped into a curtsy to address the woman.

“Hello, Anna. It’s lovely to see you again.” The newcomer’s voice was smooth, her tone even and confident.

“Of course. I was just leaving.” She sent me a look, ensuring I was comfortable, and I nodded, rapidly putting together the identity of the newcomer.

Anna curtsied again before bustling out, and I was left with the not-quite-stranger.

She had crimson curls that were the same shade as Rowan’s, but not nearly as riotous. Her eyes were the exact shade of green as the king’s, but held all the discernment I had come to expect from Gallagher. And while she was on the taller side, like Gwyn, her curves were more pronounced.

Where Rowan was cute, and Gwyn was striking, this woman was downright gorgeous. Gorgeous and powerful, if the short sword at her waist and the resolute set of her shoulders were any indication.

Though her elegance was somewhat at odds with the round, fuzzy animal in her hand.

“Princess Avani?” I guessed.

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