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Authors: Kari Edgren
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the second letter from her pocket. “Because you have other matters to concern yourself with at present.”
My name was scrawled in big loopy letters across the front. Breaking the seal, I read the few sentences. Then I read them again, more slowly as my stomach began to twist. “The king has summoned me to the palace this evening.” I passed the note to her.
“So I feared,” she said, her face serious. “Be thankful Henry is preoccupied or he would insist on coming along, and this, Selah, is a battle we must fight alone. Go get cleaned up. We’ve a trying evening ahead of us.”
Sophie had returned from situating the Goodwins, and as I followed her upstairs, my stomach twisted further, going from general nervous tension to downright nausea for what lay ahead. I hadn’t planned on facing the king so soon and for the life of me, I couldn’t decide how to interpret his hasty summons. Cate had referred to the meeting as a battle, and having known me for all of ten minutes, she could have left me to face the man alone. But she hadn’t, and for that I felt grateful. She was obviously a devoted friend to Henry to involve herself in our troubles.
At the second floor, Sophie turned down a wide corridor. Six doorways came into view, three on either side of us. An ornate alcove of sorts preceded each door, setting the chambers back several feet from the corridor for additional grandeur and privacy.
The grandeur continued into the chamber where Sophie led me. Rather than plain plaster, wooden panels covered the walls, painted a celadon green, and insets of gilded molding. Damask tapestry formed the canopy over the large bed, and sheltered the two windows facing the street. A fire burned in the stone hearth that stood opposite the bed, with an armchair perfectly situated for both reading and warmth. Sophie continued past the hearth to the far corner, and I nearly cried from joy when we passed into a private bathing room. Fragrant steam rose up from the tub that had been filled in anticipation of my arrival.
I hadn’t soaked in a tub up to my neck since Meredith House in Philadelphia the night before I boarded the Callisto. The sensation was heaven, even with one arm held aloft as I eyed the red welt that had appeared on the tender skin above my glove line. It still stung, though not so badly as when the young wretch first grabbed me. Blurred memories tumbled through my head of a pale dirty face, and the scrabble of small fingers up my arm.
I moved my arm closer and squinted at the mark. It looked like a burn of sorts, as though I had brushed the skin against a hot cauldron in my apothecary back home. Distracted by Henry, I hadn’t noticed a lantern or a coal box in the girl’s hands, or anything else capable of causing the wound. Stranger yet was the bitter cold that had accompanied her touch.
Confusion puckered my brow. “Impossible,” I breathed. Even if she had been carrying a handful of ice, frostbite would never have set in so quickly.
The door swung open, and Beth hustled in with a large towel draped over one arm. “Her ladyship asked that ye not dawdle for fear of upsetting the king.”
Nerves jolted me upright. Pushing to my feet, I stepped from the water, leaving all thoughts of the wretch behind.
Dressed in clean shift and stockings, I surveyed the various gowns that Beth had placed around the room at my request. Four were made of good silk and suitable for the occasion, if only they didn’t smell musty from being stored for so long in the bottom of my trunk. Four others were wool, much too informal for meeting the king, but having the distinct advantage of smelling much better.
I crossed the room to my favorite gown, ivory silk with a profusion of painted flowers. I sniffed one of the sleeves before dropping it in disgust. “Hang it all!” I huffed, “I’ve to choose between offending his majesty’s nose or his eyes!”
“This one’s not so bad,” Beth said, lifting a handful of rose silk.
My name was scrawled in big loopy letters across the front. Breaking the seal, I read the few sentences. Then I read them again, more slowly as my stomach began to twist. “The king has summoned me to the palace this evening.” I passed the note to her.
“So I feared,” she said, her face serious. “Be thankful Henry is preoccupied or he would insist on coming along, and this, Selah, is a battle we must fight alone. Go get cleaned up. We’ve a trying evening ahead of us.”
Sophie had returned from situating the Goodwins, and as I followed her upstairs, my stomach twisted further, going from general nervous tension to downright nausea for what lay ahead. I hadn’t planned on facing the king so soon and for the life of me, I couldn’t decide how to interpret his hasty summons. Cate had referred to the meeting as a battle, and having known me for all of ten minutes, she could have left me to face the man alone. But she hadn’t, and for that I felt grateful. She was obviously a devoted friend to Henry to involve herself in our troubles.
At the second floor, Sophie turned down a wide corridor. Six doorways came into view, three on either side of us. An ornate alcove of sorts preceded each door, setting the chambers back several feet from the corridor for additional grandeur and privacy.
The grandeur continued into the chamber where Sophie led me. Rather than plain plaster, wooden panels covered the walls, painted a celadon green, and insets of gilded molding. Damask tapestry formed the canopy over the large bed, and sheltered the two windows facing the street. A fire burned in the stone hearth that stood opposite the bed, with an armchair perfectly situated for both reading and warmth. Sophie continued past the hearth to the far corner, and I nearly cried from joy when we passed into a private bathing room. Fragrant steam rose up from the tub that had been filled in anticipation of my arrival.
I hadn’t soaked in a tub up to my neck since Meredith House in Philadelphia the night before I boarded the Callisto. The sensation was heaven, even with one arm held aloft as I eyed the red welt that had appeared on the tender skin above my glove line. It still stung, though not so badly as when the young wretch first grabbed me. Blurred memories tumbled through my head of a pale dirty face, and the scrabble of small fingers up my arm.
I moved my arm closer and squinted at the mark. It looked like a burn of sorts, as though I had brushed the skin against a hot cauldron in my apothecary back home. Distracted by Henry, I hadn’t noticed a lantern or a coal box in the girl’s hands, or anything else capable of causing the wound. Stranger yet was the bitter cold that had accompanied her touch.
Confusion puckered my brow. “Impossible,” I breathed. Even if she had been carrying a handful of ice, frostbite would never have set in so quickly.
The door swung open, and Beth hustled in with a large towel draped over one arm. “Her ladyship asked that ye not dawdle for fear of upsetting the king.”
Nerves jolted me upright. Pushing to my feet, I stepped from the water, leaving all thoughts of the wretch behind.
Dressed in clean shift and stockings, I surveyed the various gowns that Beth had placed around the room at my request. Four were made of good silk and suitable for the occasion, if only they didn’t smell musty from being stored for so long in the bottom of my trunk. Four others were wool, much too informal for meeting the king, but having the distinct advantage of smelling much better.
I crossed the room to my favorite gown, ivory silk with a profusion of painted flowers. I sniffed one of the sleeves before dropping it in disgust. “Hang it all!” I huffed, “I’ve to choose between offending his majesty’s nose or his eyes!”
“This one’s not so bad,” Beth said, lifting a handful of rose silk.
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