Page 31 of Destroyer

“I’ve got her,” said Fen. Then he turned to look up at her, winking and giving a little bow. “Miss,” he said, holding out one gloved hand.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, willing her cheeks not to redden. She tried to dismount as gracefully as she could, but she still wasn't used to riding, and her foot caught on the stirrup as she half-stepped, half-fell into Fen's arms.

He laughed, catching her easily, and set her on her feet to face him. Morning light shone in his eyes, his hair lifted off his forehead by a light breeze. She had to look away or risk blushing even deeper. Fen’s effect on her was undeniable, but she pushed it aside, impatient with herself. It was only because he had saved her life, been there for her in a traumatic moment. Surely he didn't see her in that way.

“All sorted?” said the stable boy, taking the horse's reins.

With a shock, Ru realized she had been about to let the boy walk off with the artifact, still wrapped in its blanket in the saddlebag. What if someone had found it, had touched it?

“Just a moment,” she said in a rush, reaching into the saddlebag and pulling the blanket bundle from within. “There.”

With a tip of his hat, the stable boy led Wind away while Fen stared after. “He’d better treat her well,” he said.

“These are the king’s stables,” said Sybeth, frowning deeply. “Your horse has never known such luxury, nor will she again. Follow me.”

Fen raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Ru, arms wrapped tightly around the swaddled artifact, wondered if her brother might be in the palace. He had rooms there, but he was often called into the city for his services. She tried not to get her hopes up, but seeing Simon, with his easy laugh and terrible jokes, would be a comfort.

They approached the grand entrance to the palace, up a flight of carpeted steps and between two lines of ornamental guards in bright golden armor, and were finally stopped just before the doors by a pair of functional guards. Sybeth explained her errand in low tones, and the guard listened with a frown and finally nodded, summoning a footman from within the palace.

Even with the hope of seeing her brother, Ru found her thoughts straying to darker things. Holding the artifact so close, even through layers of blanket, was draining on her emotions. At the moment, it seemed to be amplifying her anxieties, feeding them back to her in a spiral of insecurity. Whatwasit? And why wouldn’t it comfort her when she needed it most?

Fen’s hand pressed her shoulder for a moment and she let the warmth of him calm her, a solid reminder of where she was, allowing her to breathe easier. Even the artifact seemed to respond, its touch on her mind growing softer, soothed.

But she didn’t have time to wonder why, or how, the stone responded to her emotions. Sybeth turned back to them, a footman just behind her. “As I’m sure you are aware,” Sybeth said, “you will not be allowed an audience with the Lady Regent in your current state. Mr. Goodfellow will show you to your temporary rooms, where you will bathe. I will collect you in an hour. Don’t do anything foolish.” She caught Ru’s gaze with this last order.

As if Ru hadn’t already learned her lesson. Yet Ru only felt warmth for the rider, gratitude for her matter-of-fact way.

Without further ado, Mr. Goodfellow led them into the palace.

* * *

Ru was relievedto find that her and Fen’s rooms were across the hall from one another. It wasn’t that she felt unsafe in the palace, but the circumstances were vastly different now than any other time she had visited.

Everything made logical sense — the regent would want to know everything about the horrific event that occurred at the dig site she had funded from her own coffers. She would want to question everyone involved. But Ru couldn’t help wondering what the regent would think of Ru herself, whether she would be accused or demonized.

And what would happen to the artifact? The uncertainty made her uneasy to the point of nausea. She voiced her physical pains to the lady’s maid, who had been assigned to her for the duration of her stay.

“You’ll want a bath, Miss,” the maid had advised. “A bath cures everything.”

Ru lay now in a vast brass tub, lavender petals drifting across the surface of water that had been infused with oils and perfumes. Her temporary room was a thing of dreams, a fantasy of filigree and velvet and silk. The ceiling was painted to resemble a summer sky, pale blue with soft clouds drifting across it, and she could even see tiny cherubs dotting the clouds if she squinted. The bed was practically boat-sized, and she hoped fervently that they would stay the night in Mirith if only for the opportunity to sleep in it.

Any other time, she might have drifted off to sleep. But instead of allowing the beauty of the room to lull her into a peaceful doze, Ru’s brain refused to stop ticking. It reached ever backward to memories of dirt and gravel scraping against her naked body in the darkness… Fen holding a bloodied knife… Lady Maryn, her fingers reaching for Ru… and always, the horror in Lady Maryn’s eyes.

Ru realized that tears were running down her cheeks and into the now tepid bathwater. Sniffing loudly, and slightly embarrassed by this display of unchecked emotion, she dragged herself out of the bath and stood dripping on the thick rug.

The lady’s maid heard this and came running from whatever nook she’d been waiting in. She held a fluffy towel at the ready, and dried Ru with incredible speed, before helping Ru into a pair of slippers and draping a soft robe over her shoulders. These small ministrations were a balm for Ru’s soul, drying her tears along with her body.

“There we are, Miss,” said the maid. “We haven’t much time now. Would you allow me to do your hair?”

Ru couldn’t remember the last time she had “done” her hair in any way beyond brushing it or braiding it hastily down her back. She nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady yet. Her throat still stung with unshed tears.

The maid instructed Ru to sit on a cushioned little chair in front of a vanity, facing a circular mirror framed in gold filigree. The sudden appearance of her reflection almost made Ru bolt. She hardly recognized the creature staring back at her. Her skin, usually so tan from the sun, was now wan and sickly. Heavy purple-blue shadows hung under bloodshot eyes. She looked like a ghoul or something that should live under a bridge.

Unbidden shame rose in her when she realized that Fen had seen her like this. She bit down on the feeling, pushing it away. Why should she care? It shouldn’t matter whether she looked like a drowned rat or a beautiful maiden; he was only here to help her travel to the Tower. After that, they would go their separate ways.

Yet, while she had only known him for a few days, the thought made her unexpectedly sad.

Unperturbed by Ru’s haggard appearance and tear-stained face, the lady’s maid began her work. She was a magician — that was the only way Ru could describe the transformation. First, the maid brushed and powdered Ru’s hair until it was shiny and smooth, no longer tangled and greasy. Then she wrapped it up effortlessly and pinned it into an elegant coil at the back of Ru’s head. It was painfully simple compared to the intricate, grandiose hairstyles worn by ladies of the court, but Ru felt like a new woman.

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