Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(10)
Wait.
It took two months to get to Lunwyn?
Two months?
He turned to me, took two steps toward the bed but stopped which put him at about ten feet away.
His eyes were blank when they fell on me, which I thought was weird but I didn’t have a lot of time to think on how weird it was because he continued talking immediately.
“Obviously, I was not prepared for your arrival and in your current condition”—he looked to my check then back to my eyes—“the children shouldn’t see you.”
All the air compressed out of my lungs, and due to lack of oxygen they started burning.
Children?
He seemed not to notice my response for he went on.
“Indeed, I had planned carefully for how you would be introduced to them therefore you may be traveling separately from us so I can take that time to prepare them. We mustn’t delay in being away, however, for the witches are conniving with Baldur and whatever strike they intend to make is possibly imminent. We need to make haste in all of us arriving at the Ulfr estate in Lunwyn where I can leave you with the children in safety and rejoin Frey, Tor and the Dax.”
Clearly he thought Valentine was a lot more forthcoming during our conversation last night because I had no clue what he was talking about but he seemed to think I did.
But I didn’t ask.
I was still stuck on children.
Therefore, I wheezed, “Children?”
“Yes,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Your children?” I pushed out.
He stopped looking blank in order to look mildly impatient. “Yes. My children. Christophe and Élan.”
Christophe and Élan.
A boy and a girl.
Or maybe two boys (I’d never heard the name Élan).
It didn’t matter.
Children.
Apollo of this world and his dead Ilsa had children.
Two of them.
Two of them.
Suddenly, I was certain I was going to throw up but luckily he spoke again so I had something to focus on and could swallow it down.
“These women are ladies maids and seamstresses. They will attend you.”
I didn’t need ladies maids and seamstresses. I didn’t even need a bathroom anymore.
I needed Valentine. Like now.
So I asked, “Where’s Valentine?”
“I do not know. She disappeared in the night, as is her wont.”
Disappeared?
Why?
Shit!
“Uh…I think she left a lot out last night,” I informed him.
“I’m late being away to the children’s school. You and I will talk later. But I’ll warn you now, I’ll have little time. There’s much to be done before we embark on our journey, so think on your questions and use that time wisely,” he stated and turned to leave.
Wait.
Hang on a second.
Who was this guy? And where was the guy who was all affectionate and kind and concerned and fierce?
“Wait!” I called when he’d almost made the door.
He turned back to me, definitely impatient now. “Ilsa, as I said, I’m late being away. I should have left half an hour ago.”
“I…” I hesitated and tipped my head to the side. “Are you okay?”
His impatience fled, the blank mask slid over his face and he answered, “I will be, if you leave me to go collect my children.”
“Right,” I said softly. “Of course.”
He didn’t acknowledge that. Not with a nod of his head, a lift of his chin or anything.
He just turned and walked out the door, and without pause, the troop of women rushed forward and descended on me.
* * * * *
It was late evening.
After Apollo took off, I’d been measured for clothing and then led to a room down the hall, which fortunately had a screen painted with a lovely landscape with people picnicking on it, behind which, unfortunately, there was a chamber pot.
I wasn’t fired up about the chamber pot business but it was something that didn’t include me tiptoeing through the tulips (or whatever) to answer nature’s call, so I used it.
The room also had a fabulous porcelain bath with silver claw feet and high sides.
It was safe to say, I was fired up about that.
The girls left and I was allowed to take a bath alone but I noted there was no plumbing, although there was a drain. Still, the water was warm, the shampoo smelled of citrus, the soap of lavender, and the washcloth was slightly rough in a loofah kind of way.
When I got out, I grabbed the towel they left me on a dainty stool by the bath. It wasn’t terrycloth but it was soft and absorbent and a fabulous shade of blue.
They’d also left a robe. It was silk, there was a fair bit of delicate lace and it was butter yellow.
Okay, it was safe to say I was getting fired up more and more.
The women came back (three of them) and brushed my hair until it was almost dry then arranged it in a soft ponytail at my nape. They gave me light makeup, taking care with my bruised cheek (the room with the tub also had an oval mirror with scalloped edges on the wall; I looked in it and saw my cheek was not good but still, as bad as it hurt, I’d had worse).
They also gave me undies (no bra, just a pair of white lace panties and they were like panties in my world except a whole lot better).