Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(19)
“That wasn’t how it appeared tonight,” he says. “The Prinz could be a priceless source of information.”
The idea of Prinz S?ren having feelings for anyone is laughable. I doubt there’s a heart in his chest at all. Still, I can’t help but think of how he asked me to call him by his name.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say.
Blaise rests a hand on my shoulder. His skin is warm, despite the chilly cellar. This close, I can see his father in him, in the fullness of his mouth and the square shape of his jaw. But there is so much anger in him, more anger than our parents ever had to know. It should frighten me, but it doesn’t. I understand it.
“One month,” he tells me after a moment. “In one month, we leave, no matter what.”
One month more under the Kaiser’s thumb seems like an eternity. But I also know that it isn’t nearly enough time to turn the tide; it isn’t enough time to do much of anything. But it’ll have to be.
“One month,” I agree.
Blaise hesitates for a moment, looking like he wants to say more. “These people destroyed our lives, Theo,” he says finally, his voice breaking over my name.
I step toward him. “That is a debt we will repay,” I promise.
The words themselves don’t shock me as much as the vehemence behind them. I don’t sound like myself, even to my own ears. Or at least, I don’t sound like Thora. But when Blaise’s eyes soften and he pulls me into an embrace, I wonder if I’m starting to sound like Theodosia.
It’s been so long since anyone besides Cress has touched me like this, with genuine love and comfort. I almost want to pull away, but he smells like Astrea. He feels like home.
EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY screams when Hoa enters my room and draws the curtains to let the sun in. I want to roll over and beg to go back to sleep, but I can’t risk anything that could seem suspicious after Blaise’s stunt with the guards. I was up until nearly dawn scrubbing the grime from my skin and stuffing the unsalvageable nightgown into a hole in the underside of my mattress, terrified that at any moment those three sets of snores would stop and I would be caught, but mercifully they were still sleeping when I finally drifted off.
Hoa will notice the nightgown missing soon, but there are much simpler explanations for that than treason.
Yesterday feels like a dream—or more like a nightmare—but it wasn’t. It might be the only real day I’ve lived in the last decade. The thought gives me energy enough to sit up and blink away my bleariness. I drag through the motions of getting ready, and if Hoa notices my daze or the difference between the nightgown I wear and the one she dressed me in last night, she gives no sign.
As she wraps vivid orange silk around me and pins it at my shoulder with a lapis lazuli pin, my mind is far from idle. If Blaise is right and the Prinz is interested in me, I’m not sure where to start. I’ve seen Kalovaxian courtship rituals play out many times, ending in marriage or death and nothing in between, but whatever the Prinz wants from me, it won’t be marriage. His father would never allow it. The Kaiser may have given me a title and other luxuries, but he will never grant me any more rights than any other Astrean slave.
“Lower,” I tell Hoa.
Her forehead creases in confusion, so I move the pin down myself. It’s only a couple of inches, but it causes the neckline to dip low and expose more of my chest. I’ve seen courtesans show far more skin—even Dagm?r routinely wears much more scandalous things. Still, Hoa’s eyes are disapproving. If she knew what I was doing, she would applaud me, wouldn’t she? Or maybe she would tattle to the Kaiser before I could so much as draw a breath.
As soon as Hoa finishes arranging my hair and painting my face, there’s a knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer, Crescentia glides in wearing a dress of sky-blue silk. A small leather-bound book is clasped in her hand. Like my dress, hers is draped in the Astrean style. Though I’d missed the loose flowing chitons for years while I was forced to sweat in fitted Kalovaxian velvets, it always turns my stomach to see anyone, even Cress, wear Astrean dresses. It feels like another thing that’s been taken from me. I wonder if she knows that it’s loose to facilitate movement, that it’s made for dancing and riding and running. Now it’s merely ornamental, just as we’re supposed to be.
“Hello, darling,” she chirps, eyes darting briefly to my lowered neckline. I wait for a pointed comment, a barb like she throws when Dagm?r wears something outrageous, but she only smiles. “I thought we could take a walk outside today, maybe down to the beach? I know how you love the sea, and I could use some help with these poems. Lyrian is more challenging than I anticipated.”
I was six when I first met Crescentia, and lonely. No one spoke to me, and I wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone. I was, however, required to attend meals in the banquet hall and lessons with the noble children.
Not that the lessons actually mattered, since my Kalovaxian was rough at best and the teacher spoke too quickly for me to keep up with her. I all but disappeared into my own mind; fantasies of being rescued and finding my mother alive played over and over in my head. Anyone who wanted to pull me out of my fantasies had a hard time of it, though the Kaiser had given permission for any person of Kalovaxian blood to strike me.
The other children were the most vicious. They pinched and slapped and kicked me until I was black and blue and bloody, and no one stopped them. Even the teacher only watched with a wary eye, ready to step in if it looked like any irreparable damage was being done. That was where the Kaiser drew the line. I wasn’t of any use to him if I was dead.