Page 20 of Deadwood
I had a godsdamned fiancé now. I shouldn’t be asking random men those types of things.
Frustration forced away the exhaustion I’d felt moments before, making me forget all about my grumbling stomach and the muffin I left on the floor. Typically, I handled healing myself right then and there, but now I’d left with the vial, which meant I had to find a time to bring it back so no one would notice it was gone.
Once I was back in my room, I popped the cork off the vial and slipped my cardigan off one shoulder. Doing my best to reach behind me without straining the wound, I angled the glass upside down at the top of my back, letting it dribble down the sensitive, scorched skin. The thick liquid might not hit every inch on the way down, but it’d work its magic on the parts that it did. It’d be enough to at least make the pain ebb.
I braced my hands against the end of my bed and sucked in a breath through my teeth as a cooling sensation followed the trail of magic. The contrast against the burns sent shivers skating over my arms. I gave it a moment to settle in, knowing my skin would scar regardless of healing the wounds because of how much time had passed since they were inflicted.
Before slipping the rest of the way out of my cardigan, I called for my magic, the pinkish hue instantly glowing bright in my palms. With a few drops still in the glass, I duplicated it until the vial was once again full. Corking it, I placed it in the drawer in my bedside table.
As I settled into my bed, lying on my stomach, I decided that if I stayed in here until we left for our journey to the other kingdoms, I wouldn’t have a chance to run into Bowen again and risk him questioning me further. In a perfect world, I might be able to, but I’d come to find long ago that my life was anything but perfect. I’d be forced to leave my room eventually.
However long hismeetingswere taking place here, I could avoid him.
Besides, staying hidden was my specialty.
CHAPTER 8
Another dreadful dinner.
It was a record how many my father was able to squeeze into the span of a week. I was aware we had other royal parties visiting, but I didn’t think it called for a formal dinner with everyone in attendance nearly every night.
To go along with my feelings on this dinner, I put as minimal effort into getting ready as I could, leaving my hair down and not caring if my dress was wrinkled. I was tired from another day of filling crates full of vials for my father. He was gifting them to the other kings and queens as a show of his wealth—and I supposed his gratitude for their visit.
I never saw where the crates went after the guards brought them up, and truthfully, I didn’t care to. My job was to duplicate the magic, not follow its every move, which was my excuse to slip away this morning and return the healing vial to the kitchens. I’d told the redhead I’d grab a snack while I waited for him to help them with the crates, and while I technically had stolen a few berries, I’d wanted to be alone in there for an entirely different reason. Surely, the guard wouldn’t have asked why I had the vial in the first place, but I didn’t want to raise any unnecessary questions.
Now, as soon as I stepped foot in the dining hall, my father’s voice boomed across the massive room, grating on my eardrums. “A moment, Auria.”
Eyes snapped between the two of us but quickly averted as I walked to my father’s side. His deep red suit was buttoned all the way to his neck, not a single thread frayed or out of place on it.
“Yes?”
“What is wrong with this picture?” he asked, surveying the painting on the wall in front of him.
I craned my neck back to take in the entire scene. Men and women were gathered around a table, smiles lit up on each of their faces as they raised glasses full of deep red wine. Each guest was dressed to the nines with regal gowns and ironed suits.
“Nothing…?” I replied, not sure what he thought I might find in the painting. It was the same one that had hung here since before I was born, and he hadn’t mentioned anything wrong with it before now.
“Look at their hair.” His words were low and clipped.
My eyes roamed over the women in the photo before realization hit me as to what he was trying to say. I took a step back, my hands coming together in front of me. “My hair.”
He nodded, not giving me his full attention as his eyes stayed trained on the painting. “Fix it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I answered quietly before turning around and hurrying back through the doors with my gaze downcast.
My steps were quick, each footfall light on the gray floors as I headed down the hall. I saw the boots a moment too late and landed face-first into a chest.
How many times would this happen to me this week?
I was so used to the castle being empty with no one in the halls, save for the few guards, that I wasn’t being cautious of where I was walking.
My hands shot up to push off the man I’d run into, but I briefly hesitated when our gazes caught.
“Second time this week,” Bowen so helpfully pointed out as I stepped back.
I ran both hands down the front of my dress. “Yes, well, as I said before, the halls are usually empty.”
“Auria,” my father’s voice boomed from behind me, echoing through the hall.
