Page 8 of Queen of Legends and Lies
She leads me through an office with polished mahogany desks, a sitting room large enough for a council meeting, and a dining area with a table set for ten. In each space, Rhiann points out the amenities—a shelf of ancient tomes, an enchanted hearth that requires no firewood, and silken curtains that change color with a touch of magic.
In the master bedroom, I pause, the sight of the vast bed momentarily rooting me to the spot. It’s so large, I can’t even see the other side of it from this vantage point. I could sprawl out with my wings stretched to the fullest and still not reach the edges.
Who needs a bed that big? What’s the point? Did past royals share this same bed with…
I quickly shift my thoughts away from that line of thinking. Some things I don’t want to know, including the sex lives of Bardas past.
Rhiann urges me toward the bathing chamber next, and I’m met with the sight of a swimming-pool-sized tub, steam rising from the surface like mist over a morning pond.
“Here you can bathe away the stresses of court. It’s always hot because it’s fed from a natural hot spring.” She gestures gracefully to the rippling water. “Which is why this is always thequeen’s quarters. Moving the bath is impossible and replicating it nearly so.”
“I’ve only heard stories of hot spring baths.” I stare longingly at the steaming water. “I can’t wait to soak in it, but I’ll have to settle for a shower tonight. I’m too dirty for a bath.”
“Unfortunately, this part of the palace is older and does not have the pipes required to install a shower.” Rhiann walks me out onto the private patio where another pool is fed by the overflow of the first bath. This one is open to the sky and bordered by fragrant night-blooming flowers. “For when you need cooler water or are too dirty to use the soaking tub inside. The drainpipes empty into the garden cistern.”
The thought intrigues me until realization sinks in. “Because nothing says ‘privacy’ quite like swimming naked in a palace full of people who can fly.”
Something tells me Rhiann’s pointed look is her equivalent of an eye roll.
“No one’s allowed to fly over the personal space of the king or queen.” She gestures to a door, nearly hidden in the panels of the walls on the far side of the bathing chamber. “Your maid’s chambers are back there. But I’ve not assigned one yet, so I’ll help you with your bath for now. And I’ll keep watch to assure no one interrupts.”
As always, the Lady of the Bedchamber understands my problem and has found a solution before I’d even considered things. “Rhiann, I could kiss you.”
Her lips tilt up in a half smile as she helps me out of my sooty, tattered clothing.
Rhiann’s deft fingers are gentle yet efficient. Together, we inspect the battered garments. “I’ll have extra riding uniforms sent up later.”
“Thanks.” Part of me longs for the familiarity of my well-worn gear. It’s been with me through thick and thin, unlike these cold but beautiful rooms.
Slipping into the water is like sinking into the very essence of luxury. A bath fit for a goddess, not a battle-weary dragoncaller like me. As I scrub away the grime of the last twenty-four hours, the water darkens to a murky gray, swirling with ash, mud, and blood. It’s a stark reminder of the fight I can’t leave behind, no matter how many suites I’m given.
Still, I won’t cry. Can’t let Rhiann know how grim the situation is. Someone has to keep the hope alive.
Climbing out, I wrap myself in a plush towel that’s too soft against my calloused skin, but I’m too exhausted to use my elemental fire magic to dry off.
After my bath, Rhiann pats me down before helping me into a nightgown I’ve worn before.
At least my clothes have been transferred already. Trust Rhiann to do the impossible in practically no time. Then again, her legion of maids could rival the Tirenese army.
With a final, reassuring squeeze to my shoulder, Rhiann slips out, leaving me alone amid splendor that’s more alien than homely. I stand there, half dressed, wondering how I’m supposed to sleep in a bed that’s too wide and empty without Sterling by my side.
Still, the bed beckons me. The linens are crisp and cool, and the mattress swallows me when I lie down. It’s like I’m resting on a cloud. I close my eyes, but although this is the most luxurious bed I’ve ever been in, I can’t fall asleep. My mind refuses to shut off.
Not after everything that’s happened.
I roll onto my side, clutching a pillow to my chest. The cushion is an inadequate substitute for the man I love. Thememory of his touch, once gentle and loving, now twisted into something grotesque and unrecognizable.
An image of Sterling—cold and devoid of warmth as he decapitated my friend—haunts me. I have to remind myself that wasn’t him. He’d never hurt someone I care about. Never hurt me.
As tears finally stream down my cheeks, soaking the silk under my head, I picture him. TherealSterling. Those beautiful brown eyes flecked with gold. Bronze skin, black shoulder-length hair that I love to run my fingers through—the only soft thing about him.
His powerful, silver-streaked wings that glimmer when they catch the light. The stern set of his jaw with that faint scar above his chiseled jawline, and those full lips that drive me wild with desire whenever he kisses me or trails them over my body. His empathy and kindness toward alicorns and dragons, and the deep bond he shares with both his friends and the soldiers he commands. His wicked sense of humor.
The love that shines in his eyes when he looks at me.
A love that Xenon stole from me.
Tossing the pillow aside, I crawl out of my cozy resting place.
