“It seems you’ve hired some new protection,” he said, “while I’ve been demoted to playing a delivery boy.”
Céline stood up cautiously. “Oliver, stop hissing. It’s all right.”
She hadn’t seen Jaromir or Anton since leaving the castle. Right away, she’d made more of the weakened poppy syrup for Anton, along with a salve from some wild-growing orpine that she’d found and boiled down to mix with goose grease, to help heal Jaromir’s burns. Later she’d made a cleansing tonic from colewort for Anton, but she’d sent all these up to the castle with a local boy.
“How is the prince?” she asked.
“Better.” His tone was uncertain. “He has a good deal of healing to do.”
Yes, she understood that.
“Come and look at this, Céline.” He set the box down. “Helga brought it to my attention that you left a good deal behind in your room, and she wasn’t good-natured about insisting that I bring it all down here.”
Céline went over and looked into the box. All of their gowns and stockings and underwear and Amelie’s new breeches were folded inside—along with the silver brushes and two thick cloaks, which had not previously been hanging in the wardrobe.
“Oh, Jaromir, these things weren’t ours.”
He shrugged. “Take them. No one else has any use for them, and maybe you can get Amelie back into that blue dress.”
“That would be a feat indeed.”
While the amber silk gown was hardly useful here, the cloaks, stockings, breeches, and lavender wool dress would make life easier next winter. And she’d never used anything so fine as those silver brushes.
“Just keep them,” he said, moving further out into the garden. “This is looking quite polished.”
“No, I came bearing an invitation.” He paused. “To a banquet at the castle tomorrow night.”
“A banquet?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t worry, you and Amelie are just invited as guests. You’ll sit at the first table with me and Anton.”
Céline glanced away, feeling on uncertain ground again, caught somewhere between the village dwellers and the castle dwellers.
“So…am I to come as the prince’s apothecary?” she asked.
“No, as the prince’s seer.”
She didn’t speak for a moment.
“Will you come?” he asked.
“Yes, we’ll come.”
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Memories of Envy
In Memories We Fear
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Thief of Lives
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Child of a Dead God
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Through Stone and Sea
Of Truth and Beasts
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