Page 132 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

Annoyance flared as the pair of them exchanged another look. “Is there a problem?” I demanded.

“Not at all,” said the second soldier finally. “I will deliver these myself at once.”

I bit back a retort as he relieved me of the notes, shoving them unceremoniously into his pocket before disappearing down the corridor.

I listened until I could no longer hear the clanking of his sabatons before I retreated to the bedchamber. I stripped off what remained of my traveling clothes, letting them fall into a heap on the floor. When I peeled off my socks, I grimaced at the fine layer of silt that coated my skin. I locked the washroom door behind me before sinking into the bath. A moan escaped me as the hot water seeped over my aching muscles, thawing the nerves I’d felt upon our arrival. I scolded myself lightly. There was nothing to worry about here. I dragged my fingers through the thick film of soapsuds, grinning as the bubbles burst.

When I emerged from the tub some time later, my skin pink, and lavender scented, I found that my traveling clothes were missing. Taken to the laundry, no doubt.

Without bothering to dress, I dropped my towel to the floor and crawled into bed. A gasp escaped me the moment I pulled the silk sheets over my naked skin. The goose feather-stuffed mattress was like a cloud beneath my aching bones. I tugged the sheets toward my nose, inhaling the scent of rose petals as I stared at the crimson canopy above my head. I managed to stay awake for only moments before exhaustion pulled me under.

And I was only too happy to let it.

By the time I finally opened my eyes, a murky sunset filtered in through the windows. I stretched, fingers gliding up the cool sheets. Before I’d left for Hollybrook, Mordric and I had often taken supper at ten o’clock, so I had at least an hour to prepare.

Crawling out of bed, I pulled open the doors of the wardrobe. The bitter scent of tansy tickled my nostrils. I recognized it from the laundry, where the laundrymaids would sprinkle it onto linens about to be put into winter storage to ward away moths and other bothersome creatures. It must have been some time since someone last used these quarters.

Three dresses hung in the wardrobe. The first was a muted ember, the second simple and cream-colored. But the third nearly took my breath away. It was as black as Mordric’s eyes, with raven’s feathers sewn into the shoulders and a scandalously low neckline. I grinned as I pictured the look on Mordric’s face when he saw me in it. Pulling it from the wardrobe, I stepped into the gown, sliding it over my hips and slipping my arms into the sleeves. I swiveled before the looking glass, admiring the way that it hung on my figure.

I ran a comb through my hair, dividing the front section into two braids and pinning them together at the back of my head, save for a few strands that tickled my cheeks. Sleep had done me some good, I thought, staring at my reflection. The shadows beneath my eyes had faded, the color returned to my lips and cheeks.

Satisfied with my appearance, I drifted to the nearest window like a wraith, pressing a palm to the crystal pane. If I squinted, I might be able to make out the cloisters where Enhart and I had spent so much time together. Craving some fresh air, I tugged at the latch to the windows, my brows knitting together when I realized that the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Magic pulsed to the tips of my fingers, wrapping around the latch. It wobbled, but ultimately remained in place.

My breath caught in my throat. “What the?” I asked aloud, holding my fingertips to my eyes. I concentrated, pulling my magic to the surface of my skin.

The room spun.

I stumbled backward, stopping when my backside pressed against the mattress. For a moment, I thought I might have been poisoned by angelica again. But that was impossible, and besides, I would never forget its peppery scent.

I inhaled a shaky breath. When my gaze cut toward the looking glass, my reflection stared back at me, eyes wide.

I looked alright, I thought, albeit a little tired. I held my hands up to the light. Perhaps I needed more than a few hours of sleep to fully recover from everything that happened to me at Hollybrook. I’d barely had time to process it: the Ealdorfyre and the witches. And nearly two weeks of nonstop riding likely hadn’t helped the matter.

A bothersome, paranoid part of me worried about what Mordric would say when he realized that I couldn’t perform a simple act of elemental magic.

Perhaps he doesn’t have to know.

I shoved away my fears, resolving to say nothing until I could have a word with Enhart. I had plenty of time to rest before the solstice. Slipping into a pair of black velvet slippers that waited for me at the door, I ventured out to the empty drawing chamber.

The doors to the main suite still stood open, the two soldiers hovering on either side. I wasn’t in a hurry to speak to either of them again, but my stomach growled, urging me forward. “Excuse me,” I said.

A dull pulse of surprise wafted off the nearest soldier, as if he had forgotten I was here. At least I could be reassured that my psychal magic was intact, if a little sluggish.

The soldier rounded on me, his eyes wide. “Erm, begging your pardon?”

I raised my eyebrows, finding myself grateful that his crossbow was strapped to his back and not pointed in my direction. “Will the King arrive soon for supper?”

“Yes, miss.”

My eyes narrowed as my gaze fell to his pocket. A piece of parchment poked its nose into the air, the letters V-E-S visible.

“You told me you would deliver that yourself,” I said quietly.

The soldier turned to face me, his gloved hand curled around the hilt of his sword. With the other, he shoved the parchment out of sight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied stiffly.

“My messages,” I said. “You said that you would deliver them at once.”

“I did deliver them.”