Page 18 of Knightfall
I plotted Declan’s untimely death as he addressed his butler.
“My wife needs a bath. Have one set up near my desk.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’d like a privacy screen,” I threw out as the butler made to leave.
The man turned back but didn’t face me. He faced sarding Declan. Declan shook his head.
The butler was out of the room before I could argue.
I seethed, standing and turning to Declan again. “What was that?”
Declan smirked. “We have a bet going. I’m simply taking the opportunity to settle the matter.” He strode past me toward a massive desk that sat underneath a twenty-foot arched window. The desk was covered in scrolls and missives. An ink pot and quill stood neatly in one corner. As Declan pulled out his chair, I was again forced to move closer to him.
I waited, but the servants were taking their time bringing the tub, my maids, and the water. They were probably all quite intimidated by the disagreement between Declan and I, and were waiting out the fury, so that they wouldn’t bear the brunt of it. That’s how they’d been after my mother and I would row when I was younger, anyway.
I tapped my foot impatiently. But eventually curiosity won out. I had to ask. “What’s the bet?”
Declan’s mouth curved into a half grin just as the sunlight shot a beam onto his face. He looked breathtaking in that moment. I had to remind myself he was a know-it-all triptaker who’d find fault in everyone short of my mother. An ass, who’d just called me a coward.
“The bet …” he turned slightly in his chair and let his eyes wander down my figure, “is whether or not you’re horribly deformed. Down there.”
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. “What?”
“Ryan’s put twenty pounds wagering you have a cock.”
My head exploded. This? This is what they thought? I opened my mouth to respond but Declan cut me off.
“You see, Ryan can’t think of any other reason you might have refused him. Of course, before today, none of us knew that you’d given yourself away—I believe that will change any payouts. Connor wagered pretty heavily against the cock.” Declan’s eyes flickered between mine, as if hoping to catch me out. But I was so caught up in my fury at this wager the men made, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
Declan shrugged. “Now, Quinn has theories about other deformities. Scars, diseases. He gave the most detailed description out about blue waffle disease.”
A whore’s affliction!
My hand flew to my mouth in horror. “That’s a lie!”
Declan turned back to his papers, as if dismissing me. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” He grabbed a letter opener and sliced open a missive. He acted as if our conversation meant nothing. As if the years of speculation about me were of little importance.
I rubbed my brow as servants brought in the tub and filled it. It gave me time to think. These men hated me. Tried to explain my departure by way of disease. Treated me as a joke. I’d tried to give them the best chance at life. And I was a joke to them. My mind hardened. Connor. It had to be him. He knew all. Or as much as I could write about with the geas blocking me. He must have instigated this hatred against me.
My face turned to stone as the last of the steaming water was poured into the tub. If he hated me, then fine. There was little I could do. I’d known when I’d left that it was a possibility.
I ignored the full body ache and the hole that opened in my chest at the thought. I would not be some heartsick fool. I’d done what was best for him. If he’d torn up my letters and hardened his heart, that was his choice. But to mock me with the others? Encourage them to think such awful things? That was beyond the pale.
I stripped off my dress and ignored Declan’s speculative gaze on my pale skin; his eyes lingered on the freckles on my arms from the summer I’d spent in the fields, the soft curves of my breasts, and the dull red of my nipples. I stepped into the water, facing him, letting him look his fill. “You see? No cocks. No disease. No extra limbs.”
I circled slowly in the tub so he could see the back as well, letting water slosh onto his stone floor. When I turned forward to stare at him, I think he gulped. “I’m clean. Not quite virginal. But not the monster you’d hoped.” I ground my teeth together as I said that last bit.
I sank into the heated water and pretended Declan wasn’t there, that his eyes weren’t riveted to my body.
I leaned my head back against the side of the copper tub and sighed. I let the heat sink into my bones and wash away my fear for Avia and the disbelief my stupid husbands had about the threat against her. How could I convince them to help? I had no idea. I pulled up my emotions one by one: my anger at my mother, my husbands’ anger at me, my frustration, the desperate trapped feeling of being back in the palace … I pulled each emotion up and then let it go, like the swirls of steam from my tub, disappearing into the air. Emotions wouldn’t help me solve the problems I had.
Queens used strategy. Not emotion.
I’d save my sister and give her the crown, break this curse tying me to four men who clearly hated me, and leave again. I’d figure out how after I’d enjoyed the first hot bath I’d had in four long years.
* * *
