Page 15 of Ties of Death

Because it isn’t something I’ve had to do for myself in years, no doubt.

“Don’t fret, darling. I’ll go pick something suitable for today’s feast.”

I whirl, stomach dropping. Water splashes around me at my sudden movement. “What? What feast?”

She raises her eyebrow at me. “Did you really think you’d marry our king without the customary welcome feast?”

That’s exactly what I thought. The wedding had been so private. Why keep everyone out of that and still hold the welcome feast?

“I hoped.”

“No luck. Enjoy your bath, darling. I’ll bring you a change of clothes.” She turns away, sweeping up my lowland dress.

“Sigrid! I want one of my black dresses!” I stand on my tiptoes and lean forward, tempted to run after her—but she’s nearly out the door, and I have no desire to run naked before my guards or anyone else who might be lingering nearby.

“Black is hardly suitable for your welcome feast!” she calls over her shoulder—and then she’s gone.

I sink back into the water, scowling. She sounded far too delighted. She’ll bring me a clan dress, and I wouldn’t put it past her to spirit away the rest of my lowland wardrobe while I’m trapped here in the hot spring.

I’d even wager she intentionally ‘forgot’ a change of clothes precisely to reach this outcome.

Resigned to my fate, I turn to the basket and set about picking out some soap. I’m hit with a strong wave of aching nostalgia as I bring each to my nose. The citrus and floral scents favored by the lowlands were sharp and heady.

Clan soaps are crafted with far more earthy, grounding scents. Things like pine and fir, sage and vetiver. I missed them far more than I realized.

Once I find some I like—pine, with the lightest hint of chamomile—I set about cleaning myself. The heat of the water has soaked into my muscles, and I feel more refreshed and relaxed than I have in… a long time. Longer than I’ve been here, certainly, but even beyond that. Verksland baths are a different experience from the clan bathing pools.

I’m simply floating in the water, savoring it, when Sigrid returns with a decidedly not-black dress. It’s green, in fact. It might even be the same dress they tried to put me in for the wedding.

I slowly rise, pointedly scowling at the offending color.

“No time to fuss at me, darling.” She extends a towel toward me with her free hand. “We’ve got to get you dressed for the feast!”

I reluctantly exit the water and take the towel, drying myself. Sigrid helps me step into fresh underthings, then the dress, but I do the ties at the sides while she sets to work scrubbing my hair dry. The dress is sleeveless, so it must be the one from yesterday after all—clan dresses, like lowland dresses, usually have long sleeves—though the reason is more practicality than fashion, given how cold the mountain or flying can be. The only exception are the wedding dresses, which have either short or no sleeves, to better show off the marriage bracelets. I feel exposed and bare after so many years wearing the long, sometimes gaudy sleeves of lowland dresses.

Ihavemissed being able to dress myself, though. Not that I’ll ever breathe that truth to anyone.

She twists and pins my hair up into a snug crown in record time, only stepping back when she’s satisfied with her work. The finishing touch is some kohl around my eyes and a shining, red-tinted oil to my lips.

“You look beautiful.” She beams at me. “Come. We’re going to be late.”

I follow her from the hot spring, nervousness already coiling in my belly. The guards fall in behind us again as we make our way to the great hall. I can’t help but notice they hang back farther than Kettil and Eskil did. I can’t blame them. What ifproximity to me causes the magic to lash out again? I didn’t do it intentionally before, which means it could happen again.

I should tell Sigrid to leave; if anyone’s at risk, she would be the most. But selfishly, I don’t. She’s the only welcome face, and I’m certain even if I were selfless enough to say something, she’d lecture me thoroughly and then proceed to ignore me.

My nerves only grow the closer we get to the great hall. It’s been years since I’ve interacted with these clansfolk, aside from Daenn and his warriors. I’m not looking forward to having to make polite conversation with any of them. I never truly enjoy shallow niceties—and with the chasm of time that has distanced me from everyone and the pall of guilt weighing heavy over me, it sounds unbearable now.

We slow as we near the great hall. A low swell of voices carries to us, and the sound makes me want to turn and run.

“Where’s Daenn?” I ask faintly. If I have to suffer through this because he forced me into a marriage, then he could have the decency to suffer through it with me.

“He’s attending to some clan matters that must get done. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” Sigrid pats my hand, as if I wereworriedabout his absence.

I’m not.

“Are there any clan matters the king’s wife needs to attend to? Urgent ones?”

She laughs. “Yes. Attending the welcome feast in her honor.”

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