Page 20 of Song of the Shadow Prince
Just then, one of the servants poked their head into the room to announce the bath was ready. With her arms laden with towels and a fresh change of clothes, Maeve led me outside along a winding pathway to another building in the courtyard where a vast tub and changing area was located. Fragrant lavender and rose petals permeated the air, mingling with the warm steam that curled from the tub.
Maeve helped me undress with efficiency and poise. Most people would probably be uncomfortable with nudity around others, but being in the military, you quickly got used to being naked around a bunch of women.
I was curious to know how the real Arya spent her days. “So what do I do on a daily basis?”
Maeve shrugged one shoulder. “Tend to house duties when you’re not out with the other ladies or attending art classes.”
“Borrrring,” I grumbled.
I sank into the tub and closed my eyes, not bothering to squelch my contented sigh as water just shy of too hot enveloped me. The tension coiled in my muscles began to melt away and a semblance of peace settled in. The only thing missing right now was a glass of wine and Spotify. Alas, the only thing accompanying me was the sound of Maeve’s heavy breathing. Gosh, she was such a worry wart. She hovered nearby, ensuring everything was to my liking, but worry lines were etched on her face.
“Relax, Maeve, I’m not going to run away,” I muttered with a sigh. “You and I can go have tea later in the garden. Is that something Arya would have done?”
Maeve softly exhaled. “Yes, my lady. Of course.”
“After tea, maybe we can go out? See the city?” I asked with a raised brow.
She watched me intently as if unsure how to answer.
“Come on, Maeve! Would you prefer to be stuck inside the Ryder residence, taking care of household duties and chores, or would you rather go out and see the world?”
Maeve nibbled her bottom lip as a smile crept across her face. That was when I knew I had her. “Okay, my lady,” she agreed, hiding her smile.
After scrubbing away the filth and grime that coated my skin and hair, I emerged from the bath with flushed skin, smelling like a florist’s shop. Maeve helped me into a fresh set of clothes, a simple gown that felt comfortable against my skin. The fabric was soft and light, perfect for a chilly afternoon. She braided my hair with deft fingers, adding a few flowers for a touch of color. Of course, the dress had long sleeves to hide my tattooed arm. It was yet another mystery about me that Maeve was still trying to figure out.
We emerged from the bath house and stepped into the garden. Golden sunlight warmed my skin and I filled my lungs with fresh air. The garden was a riot of competing colors and scents—intoxicating rose, jasmine, and honeysuckle created a symphony of fragrance that was just shy of cloying. Busy bees bounced from flower to flower to extract their sweet nectar while birds wheeled in the sky and merrily chirped, providing a soundtrack to soothe my addled mind.
Maeve led me to a secluded corner half hidden by landscaping where a small table stood, laden with food and a tea service. The sight of it made my stomach rumble, and I vainly hoped this spread tasted better than the bland, tasteless stuff they’d been sending to my room over the past few days. I sat down and piled my plate with fresh bread, cheese, and fruit. Who didn’t love a good charcuterie board?
I ate as if I was starved, fully aware I wasn’t being very ladylike, but past the point of caring. I peered over at the pot of tea and grimaced. “Where’s the coffee?”
Maeve frowned and repeated the word as if it was foreign, her dainty face scrunched in confusion.
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
As I nibbled on a piece of cheese, Maeve poured me a cup of tea and set it before me. “My lady, you must take care of yourself. We’re all worried about you,” she said softly, her eyes full of concern.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered. I peered at the caramel-colored tea and cautiously took a sip, then nearly gagged. God, it needed some serious sugar or honey. It tasted like ass, and that was saying something since I’d never tasted ass.
Maeve huffed, unimpressed by my reaction. “I don’t think you do, my lady. I overheard Lord Zacharia. He is tempted to send you to the fae to recover your memories!”
I froze mid-bite and raised a brow. “Say what, now? The fae? You mean the cruel little fairies?”
Maeve sighed. “They’re not little fairies, my lady. They’re quite elegant beings. But lethal. Very lethal,” she warned.
While I was tempted to say I didn’t care, I sort of did. I certainly didn’t want to travel to yet another unfamiliar location, especially one that would take me further from home. Besides, I lived by the saying,The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. I didn’t know these fae, and if Maeve was right, nothing good could come from living among them.
“Okay, then.” I quickly set my teacup down, sloshing dark liquid over the rim in my haste. “We need a game plan.”
“A what plan?” Maeve repeated, but I ignored her.
“Tell me everything you know about Lady Arya.” I smirked. “It’s time I put on a show.”
For the restof the afternoon, I relaxed in the garden with Maeve, who regaled me with a series of increasingly jaw-dropping tales about Arya. Some stories, I honestly could have lived without. Turned out, Arya wasn’t just a mean girl; she was a certified tyrant.
At the tender age of ten, she had a servant’s hand chopped off for the alleged crime of stealing one of her necklaces. The kicker? The poor servant hadn’t stolen anything. Arya had simply misplaced it and found it later, tossing it aside with a careless shrug. All of her horrific behavior was not only tolerated but endorsed by her father, Lord Zacharia. Though she lost her mother at fifteen, she didn’t lack anything. Spoiled and feared by all who had the misfortune of encountering her, Arya ruled with an iron fist.
The Ryder family’s fortune came from mining iron, but after several disastrous business deals orchestrated by Lord Zacharia, they teetered on the edge of bankruptcy. Arya, however, spent money like water, oblivious to the financial cliff over which they precariously dangled.
