16
ROISIN
I staredinto the milky cup of tea, mesmerized by the way the steam danced in the air. Breakfast was the last thing I wanted, but lying in bed all day wouldn’t fix things. And I desperately wanted to fix them.
I’d spent the first half of the night tossing and turning, playing Caiman’s words over and over in my mind. The second half I’d spent cursing myself for not giving him the benefit of the doubt, going straight to him that very first day and demanding an explanation for his degrading remarks.
News of the king’s death had rocked the castle. Black banners hung in place of the red and gold ones that normally flew from the turrets. The maids who passed wore black hoods over their hair, and the manservants had exchanged their crisp white shirts for black ones.
According to my mother, preparations for the king’s funeral in two days’ time were well underway. When Caiman did not come in for breakfast, I remembered he’d set a meeting with the war council for this morning.
I ate my poached eggs and toast while Lowri chatted about what I’d wear to Caiman’s coronation ceremony. I didn’t have it in me to confess that I may not be attending.
When Lowri asked if I wanted to go for a walk in the gardens, I feigned a headache, retreating to my room, only to find servants carrying trunks from the bedchamber.I ran in, skidding to a halt when I saw Caiman supervising all my belongings being packed away in more trunks.
He’d made his decision. He was sending me away.
“What’s happening?” I managed, even though I already knew. It was over. It was really over.
“Your things are being moved to your old chamber,” he said, barely acknowledging me as the last of the servants lugged the final trunk into the hallway. “You will be staying there until you return to Iodale.”
Broderick offered me a pitying look from his post in front of the window.
I tamped down my rising panic, lifting my chin as I faced my husband. “And if I do not wish to return to Iodale?”
Caiman’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his features. “I . . . um . . .” His gloved hands flexed. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he scanned my face. “I suppose that is your choice to make.”
Wasn’t he angry with me? Didn’t he want to wash his hands clean of me and move on with his life?
Midnight picnics are not the actions of a man who despises his wife.
Could my mother be right?
I crossed my arms over my chest, flushing when I noticed Caiman’s gaze fall to the dress’s square neckline. “Are the queen’s apartments ready yet?”
Caiman’s jaw went slack.
Broderick hid a gruff laugh behind a more mannerly cough.
As if snapping himself out of a trance, Caiman gave his head a vigorous shake. “No.”
“Oh . . .”
“What I mean is, no, they’re not ready yet. But they will be. Soon. Perhaps next week?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. But I can find out. If you want, that is.”
“Please do and let me know what they say. I look forward to occupying them once they’re finished.” I turned to leave, hesitating when my gaze landed on the rug where we’d sat and laughed last night. Now was as good a time as any to prove how committed I was to making this work. I twisted back around and closed the distance between us, trying to ignore the way he stiffened and the sound of his breath hitching the moment my lips met his cheek. “I am sorry that I never came to you for answers. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” I said, my voice no more than a shaky whisper as I backed away and escaped to my chambers.
* * *
Lowri lounged on the chaise in my former bedroom, munching grapes as she supervised two maids transferring my garments into the armoire. I didn’t recognize the taller of the two, but the shorter one, I knew.
When Falin’s rich brown eyes met mine, her face flushed. Her curtsy was as atrocious as it had been that day in the garden, but her boots gleamed.
“Falin? What are you doing here? I thought you were assigned to the kitchens.”
When she didn’t immediately respond, the other servant nudged Falin with her elbow. “Y-yes, your highness. But Prince Caiman . . . I mean, the new king . . . he . . . you see, he sought me out a few weeks ago and asked if I’d be interested in workin’ upstairs since the pay is that bit better.”
Caiman had done that? My heart melted at the subtle kindness. Although I would’ve liked to have known, somehow it meant so much more that he hadn’t boasted about it afterward.