Page 64 of Bane of the Wild Hunt

“Riordan is not…” Helena seemed to rethink whatever she was about to say with a glance at Sofia.

“I still want to see the Rookery,” I said in an attempt to redirect them, and Sofia nodded quickly in agreement as she pulled herself up from the table.

“I will let the seamstress know that we are ready.”

“Helena, I will… talk to him,” I reassured my griffin guardian once Sofia had stepped out the door.

The gods only knew whether the stubborn warrior king would actually listen to me, but I would try nonetheless.

Chapter eighteen

A TRIP TO THE ROOKERY

Amira

“So skinny,” muttered the seamstressagainas she shook her head. She was recording my measurements in the little notebook that she carried into my room with her in the front pocket of her utility belt of tools and supplies.

“A good and loyal servant would refrain from making such disparaging commentary,” my new handmaid spoke up unexpectedly.

My eyes widened at her in the mirror where I could see her standing behind me. But her golden gaze remained narrowed on the reflection of the seamstress who looked about as startled by her words as I was.

“Of course! My apologies,” the seamstress said to me, bowing her head. “I… forget myself sometimes.”

Satisfied with the apology, Sofia strode over to my bed where an array of materials had been laid out by a child who was probably an apprentice to the seamstress. I had not been able to stop myself from looking at her little wings, still covered in white down, and wondered if the children I hoped to have with Riordan would have wings.

Sofia reached down to test some of the fabrics between her fingers, and I could see the seamstress watching her worriedly while still trying to take my measurements.

“These will not do. I said to bring me your finest silks, and these are barely fit for a royal servant,” Sofia berated the other female. She did not raise her soft voice or speak harshly, but the reprimand made even me wince in a bit of sympathy for the seamstress who was flabbergasted.

“Well I thought—”

“You are dismissed,” Sofia told her, her tone still low and calm but ringing with absolute authority.

“But I have—”

“I will not repeat myself,” Sofia interrupted, a sharper edge entering her tone, and the seamstress blinked as if still in shock. Once her surprise had dissipated, however, she glowered at my handmaid before gesturing curtly for her apprentice to follow as she stalked from my chambers, slamming the door behind them.

“Good riddance,” Helena advised Sofia in approval.

My handmaid nodded in agreement before turning to begin tidying up the silks that were apparently subpar. Although they still looked stunning to me.

“My apologies, my lady. She always served my other mistresses well, but clearly she is not above prejudice. Perhaps we will seek outside professionals. Someone who is eager to prove themselves,” she mused aloud.

“Wow,” I muttered, still trying to process the fact that Sofia had just dismissed someone on my behalf simply because they were rude and underhanded.

“I hope I have not upset you. But if you are to be taken seriously here, then I am afraid we need to unabashedly demand their respect,” Sofia admitted.

“No… Thank you for that,” I assured her. “I cannot say if I’ve ever actually had someone defend me like that. Aside fromRiordan, of course,” I added when I recalled how he stood next to me in defiance of his mother.

Sofia merely bowed her head and continued her work tidying up the seamstress’s things.

I stepped down from the stool in front of a mirror that had been erected in my room and came over to help her. Sofia looked surprised, but she did not deny me.

“You said earlier that you… grew up on the streets,” Sofia recalled hesitantly as if she were unsure whether she should bring it up.

“I did. I am not ashamed of it, you can ask,” I told her.

“How… did it come to be? I thought witches lived in covens where they protect one another,” she admitted.

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