Page 136 of Wolfkissed
A slow smile spreads on his face. “Well, it’s a happy day. Having you here gives me great pleasure.”
Does it? His smile feels as thin as his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes, which gleam with an emotion I can’t name.
“You are alive. We can get married.” He raises his goblet in a toast. “Here is to us.”
What follows is a whirlwind of activity. I lose sight of Valen at some point as maids surround me, taking my measurements, asking what I would like to eat, telling me a bath is being drawn for me, and that my room is being prepared.
“Where is Valen?” I ask. “Where is Valerian?”
“The fae who came with you?” The maid who initially led us to Lord Eorl curtsies. “My lady, he’s being taken to his room to bathe as well. Lord Eorl has given instructions for his comfort while he stays here.”
“Good. That’s good.” It lifts a weight off my chest, knowing he’s being taken care of. The need to see him, make sure it’s as the maid says, is intense, but I fight it.
He’ll be fine. We’ve made it. We can relax, at last.
I thought… I thought I’d feel happier. Excited. Overwhelmed with gratitude and joy that we have arrived and have been recognized. That Lord Eorl so easily accepted that I am who I say I am and is ready to proceed with the wedding.
So why don’t I feel anything?
Lord Eorl has also left the room, I realize after long moments, leaving me in the hands of his servants. Which makes sense. A lord and a lady aren’t always close, and by that, I mean that they stay in separate rooms and only see each other during meals and certain activities. At least, until love blossoms. Like it happened with my parents and in all those romantic stories in the books I’ve read.
He’s only giving me space. Letting me find my footing and letting the maids make me presentable. He has no reason to hang around.
No reason to look at me some more, trying to find the girl in the portrait, trying to get to know me better. There will be plenty of time for that later.
I keep up the chatter in my head as the maids keep the chatter around me. I’m taken to a room on the third floor, a lavish bedroom with a huge window overlooking the estates and a four-poster bed done in green and yellow. There is a small writing desk and a chair, as well as a console with a basin for my morning ablutions and tapestries on the walls.
A copper, clawfoot tub has been placed against one wall, and it’s already being filled with hot water, servants hurrying in and out with buckets.
This is it. This is my room. My bed. I have a place of my own, a room where I can close the door and be myself. Where I can embroider or read and gaze out the window.
Take that, Stepfather. You wanted me dead, but I’ll be Lady Eorl now, and my ancestral home will come to me, as is right.
A shiver racks me when I remember Lord Eorl’s unsettling smile and the way he’d said,“And I can get my dowry.”
My dowry.
It’s fine, though. That was the agreement, apparently. He’s entitled to a dowry. It has nothing to do with me. Old traditions. Old customs. He’s only doing what is expected of him.
I’m still shaken. Exhausted. Trying to get my bearings and adjust my worldview. My own expectations. Not everything will be as I’ve imagined it. I need to keep repeating that to myself.
And I do, as the men file out and two maids remain to help me undress and bathe. The steaming water of the tub is inviting. The maids exclaim in dismay over my reddened hands, my dirty nails, my blistered feet, my bruised body. They also exclaim in horror over my scars, and I shudder, having forgotten for a while how ugly they are.
Valen had made me forget. Made me believe they weren’t so bad after all.
This is a reality check.
Of course, Valen is taking his bath in another room. No more shared tubs. As I lower myself into the bath, I realize I miss him. I miss his presence, his warmth, his smile. I draw a shuddering breath. I need to stop this. Stop feeling like this. It’s inappropriate.
A sudden urge to laugh grips me. After everything I’ve done with him? After I’ve been naked with him? I can almost hear his teasing voice saying,“Is this inappropriate, Princess?”
And instead of laughing, my eyes fill with tears.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
VALERIAN
The servants drag me away from Rosie and down the hallway. I could easily shove them off and go back to her. I could slam them into the wall for pulling me away.
