Page 28 of The Shadows Between Us
But that still left a mess in the room.
I burned my bedsheets in the hearth and told my lady’s maid that my monthly bleeding soiled my mattress. I was surprised she believed the lie. I hadn’t bled in months due to my tincture that prevents pregnancy.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before Hektor started to stink, so the very next day, I rang for a couple of servants to carry my trunk into the carriage. I told them I was off to meet several friends for a picnic, and I drove the team of horses myself.
Once I found the perfect spot, deep into the Undatia Forest, I waited for the cover of darkness. Ever since meeting Hektor, it wasn’t unusual for me to be gone overnight, and neither the staff nor my father would think twice about it, though I knew I would get an earful from Father later.
Digging the hole was the most undignified thing I’ve ever done. It took nearly all night, with many breaks to rest my aching muscles. By the time I deemed the hole deep enough, I realized my mistake.
It was too deep, and I could not get out.
I screamed in my panic, stuck in that hole with nothing but a shovel. I thought to perhaps dig myself stairs, but I wondered if my strength would leave me entirely before I managed it.
It started to rain.
Finally, I thought clearly enough to remove my boots from my feet. I jabbed the heels into the earth and used them to crawl my way out. Mymuscles spasmed within my body, and my dress was damp with mud, my nostrils full of dirt.
But I would not allow myself to die in the grave I’d dug.
When I finally shoved the trunk over the lip of the cart, the lid cracked open, and Hektor stared up at me as I started to cover his face with dirt.
I was careful. The rain washed away the horses’ tracks. And when I returned early the next morning, all that was left was to destroy my dress and make it to my room without being seen.
I handled Hektor as I have handled everything else in my life: alone and with the utmost thoroughness.
They could not have found him. Even if someone went traveling into the Undatia Forest, there’s no way they could know they were standing on a grave.
In which case, Lord Drivas must think that Hektor has simply been gone too long to be away on holiday, and he’s somehow found it within himself the desire to find his son. Not that he should care that much—what with Hektor being the fourth spare to his heir.
Something’s changed, but I shan’t let it bother me. To do any searching would only attract more attention to me. I will prepare my answers carefully for when Lord Drivas and his constable come knocking. Otherwise, I shall carry on as before.
SOME DAYS LATER, I stare up at the night-painted ceiling in the queen’s sitting room. Once I am queen, I think I will have it redone. I can see the stars outside any night I wish. What I’d like to have painted are things I can’t readily see. Perhaps a landscape from each of the five kingdoms Naxos has conquered. Soon to be my kingdoms.
“There,” Hestia proclaims. “Did I do it right?”
I look down at her handiwork. “No. The stitches should be even,and you’ll want to pull them tighter. This will fall apart as soon as you try to put it on.”
She sighs. “All right. Tighter and more even. I can do that. But how do I fix what I’ve already done?”
I grab the needle from her and pull until the thread slips from the eye. I place the point under the last stitch and use it to pull the thread free.
“Repeat,” I say, handing the needle back to her.
Hestia settles back into her seat and concentrates. She’s wearing a gown in a lovely shade of turquoise, which I wore yesterday. I wonder if imitating me in all regards is getting her anywhere at court.
Rhoda, however, is dressed in a bright yellow gown that shows off all her curves to their best effect. She is taking my advice to disregard her mourning period quite well.
Rhoda sits on the other side of Hestia, asking Galen for his opinion on which thread she should use for the flower she’s stitching. He holds several colors out for her to examine, and they discuss the merits of each. I’m still baffled by how much she interacts with her manservant, but I like her enough not to say anything of it. I can be nice to Galen if it’s what Rhoda would want.
But I have to wonder if Rhoda notices the way Galen looks at her. He seems far too distracted by her sudden change in clothing. Or maybe it’s just her.
The door to the sitting room opens suddenly, and a stocking- and wig-clad servant enters, holding a box in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Rhoda demands, standing from her chair. “No men are permitted within this room.” Apparently Galen doesn’t count.
“Forgive me, ladies, but the king sent me. I have something for Lady Stathos.”
“Over here,” I say, my countenance brightening.
