Page 77 of A Crown of Deceit & Ruin
Barnabus shifted on the soles of his feet. “The books are organized in a specific way, so I’ll just wait here until you pick one, that way I know what’s being borrowed. Just standard procedure.” Elora nodded. “But if you could hurry, Kestrel will be here any minute and I need to prepare for our study session today.”
Elora had been prepared to grab the first book she saw after that, no matter what it was. But to her surprise and appreciation, one actually did catch her eye. A book on star-gazing, something she had always loved doing back in Eynallore, and she wondered if it would be as enjoyable here in Irongate.
“A good choice,” Barnabus said as she plucked it from the shelves.
“Thank you,” she said, a hand dragging down the leather cover.
“Anytime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be getting ready.”
Elora didn’t have to be told twice, especially now that she had something to look forward to. Something of her own.
Chapter 23
A Brief Lesson in History
KESTREL
Sleeping in a bed fit for a queen, Kestrel had one of the deepest nights of rest she’d ever experienced. But with deep slumber came disturbing dreams—if they could even be calleddreams. They were more like a stained-glass window of images, mere snippets of scenes and moments that surely told a story, but one she couldn’t decipher:
A dark forest of dead trees.
Black feathers falling from the sky.
A glowing light that rippled as if it were surrounded by water.
A crack of thunder startled Kestrel from her slumber, and she woke with a racing heart. She felt…odd. Unsettled by the images that had played for her throughout the night, but unsure of how to make sense of them. Ultimately, she decided to ignore them. They were likely just the result of tireless journeying and the impossible reality of her parentage and royal bloodline that she was now trying to come to terms with.
Weird dreams were expected.
Today, however, was a new day. And Kestrel refused to start it on a sour note.
She climbed out of bed and tossed another log onto the dying fire before making her way over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the sprawling lands were cast in a muted violet and pink sheen. The occasional burst of lightning made the kingdom flash bright for a moment, before resuming its usual cold gloom.
Judging from where the sun rested along the horizon, Kestrel couldn’t tell if it was rising or setting, and she had no way of knowing when her handmaiden would return. So she spent the first-hours in languid relaxation, oscillating between her bed, the vanity, and the chair by the fireplace.
Just as Kestrel was beginning to lament about not having a book to snuggle up with by the fire, a knock sounded at the door.
Bored out of her mind and antsy to start the day, Kestrel raced across the room and opened the door. But on the other side, she was greeted by a pile of laundry.
“Good day, miss,” came a muffled voice from around the clothes. “Excuse me while I get these garments settled for you, and then I can get your bath started.”
Kestrel didn’t know what to say. She didn’t realize someone would be bringing her a change of clothes, but more importantly, the idea of a nice, warm bath made her melt in her skin.
“Thank you. That sounds amazing—” But the woman didn’t wait for Kestrel to finish before blowing into the room like a gust off the coast.
Kestrel followed curiously behind her, watching her every movement. From the back, all she could note was the grey, tight knot of hair bound at the nape of the woman’s neck; it seemed to be the same style all the servants wore, a style that Kestrel couldn’t fathom ever getting her hair into.
The woman hummed to herself as she carried the heap of laundry across the room and began stacking the individualgarments into the armoire—from stockings, to skirts, to rigid looking materials that Kestrel had never laid eyes upon before.
“There we go,” the woman said brightly as she stood back admiring her work. “Now, I’ll be back in a few with that bath.”
The woman was gone in a flurry, and reappeared not much longer with four other servants, a large wooden basin, and buckets full of steaming water. While most of the servants worked on filling the tub by the fire, the original servant marched back to Kestrel’s side.
“Arms up, my lady,” the woman said, tugging at the bottom of Kestrel’s tunic.
Kestrel glanced to the others around the room. But if her disrobing in their presence was odd, none of them showed any indication of it. They merely focused on their tasks like diligent little birds building a nest. So Kestrel obliged the servant with the grey bun, sending her arms sprouting overhead like stiff saplings. The woman stripped her of her tunic, then her trousers, her undergarments. Fortunately, at the same time she was thoroughly naked, the other servants were done filling the basin and retreated from her quarters.
Kestrel all but dove into the steaming water, both wanting a little concealment and also longing for the luxurious soak that awaited her. It had been weeks since her last bathing, since leaving her tower and adventuring across the arid desert, sleeping aboard dusty sand-gliders, and narrowly escaping the voracious king-beast. For most of that time, the dinginess hadn’t bothered her; she had barely thought twice about it. But now that a bath was an option, she couldn’t resist.
