Page 103 of The Half King
Faith, she reminded herself, though her pulse didn’t listen.
“A hyena mating with a hound?” Kian called over his shoulder, using the same loud, taunting voice that had jolted Daerick awake before. “Doesn’t that describe your parents’ wedding night, Lord Calatris?”
The teasing worked. Daerick blinked and returned to himself, but this time, he didn’t have a witty retort to offer. His face was ashen and expressionless. He said nothing until he nudged his horse forward. He rode on the other side of Kian and extended a hand. “Do you have any more of those stomach soothers?”
Kian fished around in his pockets for the tiny tin and then passed it to Daerick, who tossed several tablets into his mouth…and then a few more.
“Hey, now,” Kian objected. “Save some for the rest of us.”
When Daerick handed over the tin of stomach soothers, Kian hesitated to open it before he ate one. He peered at the sky, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together as he gauged the sun’s position, no doubt calculating the hours until dusk.
Cerise reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. She remembered the day Daerick had taken her into the city and what he’d told her about the cruelty of hope. Daerick and Kian had never been closer to breaking the curse, and that had to feel terrifying.
“Not much longer,” she told both of them. “We’re almost at the palace, and then we’ll have the ceremony—today—more than once, if that’s what it takes. Try not to worry. We have plenty of time.”
But speaking the words didn’t make them true. Time was the only thing they lacked, and Daerick surely understood that better than anyone.
They rode in silence until they reached the gatehouse and followed the grassy, tree-lined path to the palace and then to the stables beyond. With her first breath of citrus-scented air, she realized how much the journey had altered her sense of smell. The odor of sweat, dust, and horseflesh had created a new normal for her, and now the air seemed too sweet—and, by contrast, her body even more in need of a washing.
She dismounted her horse and then rubbed her sore backside before she caught herself and remembered to act like a lady. No one seemed to have noticed. The palace servants who had rushed to the stables to meet them were more focused on the king. Kian’s steward welcomed him with a moistened towel to wipe the dust from his hands and face, and then the man ordered another servant to prepare a fresh bath for the king in his quarters.
“Mine, too, please,” Cerise added.
The servant, a young brunette girl, nodded and curtsied and blushed, reminding Cerise of the reputation she had earned following the palace fire. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. She had nearly forgotten about her “sacred lungs”…and also about the repeated attempts on Kian’s life. It didn’t occur to her until then that breaking his curse would make him more vulnerable than ever. It was his curse that gave him a new body at sunrise. Without it, he could be injured—permanently, like anyone else.
She tried not to dwell on that. She had enough to worry about.
Then she remembered Lady Champlain and how Kian had made Delora his courtesan to spare her from an unwanted marriage. Did that mean he would continue the ruse? She didn’t know how she felt about that. They hadn’t discussed the matter. But when she looked to Kian and found him peeking through the stable doors at the position of the sun, she knew that Delora was the furthest thing from his mind.
And rightly so.
“We have almost three hours until sunset,” Cerise announced to everyone in the stable. She glanced at Kian and then at Father Padron. “We should cleanse ourselves, prepare the sanctuary, and leave at least an hour for the ceremony itself, as well as any further attempts we have to make.”
“Don’t forget about Cole Solon,” Daerick added.
“Right,” she said. “He’ll need to be notified.”
Father Padron brushed the dust from his robes. “I see nothing to prevent it. As long as I’m given the assistance of His Majesty’s staff…”
“Take what you need,” Kian told him. He gestured at Cerise. “My lady of the temple, I had hoped to escort you to your suite, but I think it would be more prudent of me to remain with my steward and discuss the ceremony preparations. Will you forgive me, my love?”
She smiled at him as she lowered in a curtsy. She understood his gesture. Subtle as it was, he’d publicly acknowledged their relationship. “There is nothing to forgive, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing you at the sanctuary.”
A welcome sight awaited her in the sitting room of her suite—a tub of lavender-infused water, along with a tray of soaps, shampoos, towels, and scented oils. She groaned aloud in anticipation, but she needed this to be quick, just cleansing enough to show her respect to the goddess.
She stripped off her clothes and walked toward the footed tub, the Petros Blade still in hand. She slid the blade underneath the tub and then climbed in, submerging herself to the neck. When Blue sat beside her and sniffed curiously at the soap, she told him, “Tonight, you’re getting one, too.”
He whined and covered his nose with one paw.
“It’s nonnegotiable.”
Just then, something in the adjoining room caught her eye: a bundle of scarlet fabric resting on the floor next to her bed. Squinting, she realized it was a luggage bag but not one of hers. Suddenly, Blue snapped his head toward the balcony. His ears perked up, and a low growl rumbled from the back of his throat. She recognized that growl from the mornings when Kian had secretly appeared in her suite at sunrise.
Someone was in her bedchamber, but this time, it wasn’t the king.
Cerise snatched a towel off the floor, using it to cover herself as she stood up in the tub. “Show yourself,” she ordered, resting a hand on the back of Blue’s neck. “Or I’ll let go of my hound, and I warn you, he’s half titan, and his bite is worse than his bark.”
A familiar voice teased, “I surrender,” and a tall, veiled figure moved into view.
