Total pages in book: 219
Estimated words: 210867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 703(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 703(@300wpm)
The Duke.
And her nightmares.
THE MAIDEN SPEAKS
The following afternoon, the Maiden was quiet as we stood outside one of the halls that led to the kitchens, waiting for Tawny to return.
She stood as quiet as ever, her chin dipped, and her hands clasped loosely at her waist. “Is there anything you need while we wait?”
She shook her head.
“Did you rest well last night?”
She nodded.
I bit the inside of my cheek. That was how she responded to any question I asked. A nod or a shake of the head. She hadn’t spoken to me. Nor had she talked in front of me.
Thinking about what I’d overheard her and Tawny discussing, I fought a grin. She would have to speak in my presence at some point. She had to know that.
Tawny returned before I could pester her with any more inane questions, the edges of her skirt snapping at her heels. She lifted a plate of sliced sandwiches. “Look what I got!” she exclaimed. “Your favorite.”
The Maiden smiled. Kind of. The corners of her lips at least curved upward.
“What’s your favorite?” I asked, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword.
The Maiden quickly turned her head away.
“Cucumber,” Tawny answered, several tight, caramel-hued curls slipping free of their twist to fall over her shoulder as she shot a not-so-covert, narrowed-eye look at the Maiden as she started walking down yet another hall. “What’s your favorite, Hawke?”
“My favorite sandwich?” I pondered, noticing how the Maiden tilted her head slightly to listen. “I’m not sure I have one.”
“Everyone has a favorite sandwich,” Tawny insisted. “Mine is salmon-cucumber, which Poppy thinks is disgusting.”
Poppy. That nickname was…cute. Fitting in an odd way since the Maiden wasn’t exactly someone I’d think of as being cute. Although her refusing to speak in front of me was…decidedly adorable. “I have to agree with her.”
Tawny scoffed, her lips pursing. “Have you tried it?”
I shook my head. “And I don’t plan to.”
The Maiden’s lips twitched, but there was no smile.
“Then what is your favorite?” Tawny asked after giving a rather dramatic sigh that even Emil would’ve found impressive.
“I suppose anything with meat,” I decided, shrugging the weight of what I liked to refer to as my how-to-get-yourself-killed-quickly-in-battle mantle over my shoulder. If I were fighting someone wearing one, it would be the first thing I grabbed.
“Well, that is the most typical guy thing I’ve ever heard,” Tawny retorted.
Chuckling, I trailed after them, and like the day before, any servant or member of the household staff we passed stopped in their tracks and stared. Tawny and the Maiden proceeded as if unaware, but there was no way they didn’t notice. Unless they had grown accustomed to it.
Entering a hall with shimmering white and gold tapestries, we ended up in the bright, airy atrium Wardwell had said the Maiden preferred. I chose a position where I had a view of the entire space and the section of the garden it overlooked. Tawny did most of—if not all—the talking while they picked at the sandwiches. She spoke about the upcoming Rite and then relatively harmless gossip about which Lords and Ladies were suspected of sneaking off together. All the while, I kept my focus on the Maiden. She was meticulous while eating, each small movement seeming thought out beforehand, even if it were to sip from her tea or handle the linen napkins.
Footsteps and the sound of giggles drew my attention to the entryway. Two young Ladies in Wait appeared, one dark-haired and carrying a pouch, and the other blond. I’d seen them on the castle grounds a few times, watching the guards training. What were their names? Loren and Dafina? I thought so, but which was which was beyond me. And, honestly, it didn’t matter as my attention shifted to the Maiden.
I closely watched as the two Ladies in Wait took the chairs near the Maiden, wariness creeping its way through me. From what Wardwell had explained, the Maiden wasn’t to interact with others except for Tawny, but neither attempted to leave.
I had a choice. I could either behave as her guard and escort her back to her chambers, where she would likely stay for who knew how long, or I could follow her lead on this. And since I thought the rules were a load of crap, I went with the latter.
A part of me regretted it within the first few minutes after the two Ladies in Wait arrived.
They quickly became quite the…handful, prattling excitedly and loudly about everything. Yet I somehow had no idea what it was they spoke about. The thread of their conversation was hard to follow.
But what I did take note of was the subtle change that came over the Maiden. I couldn’t say she had appeared all that relaxed when it was just her and Tawny, but she had at least been…comfortable, I supposed. Her posture not nearly as rigid as it was now. I couldn’t even fathom how someone sat that straight and still. Was she forced to wear one of those bone corsets I knew many of the wealthy favored beneath the gown? The dress she wore today was different than the one the day before. More elaborate. Her sleeves were long and flowing, leaving me to wonder how she managed not to drag them across the sandwiches each time she stretched for her tea. The gown’s neckline damn near reached her neck, causing my throat to itch. My gaze dropped to her shoulders and the beaded bodice. The material appeared thin, so I doubted a corset was beneath it. The posture was all her. I eyed her lower half. Her hands were folded in her lap.