She worked feverishly, but her fingers were gentle as she pried apart the mess of hair. After a second rinse, her tugs became less frequent. The brush felt like heaven against a sore scalp.
A knock on the door caused me to duck into the water.
“It’s only the guard,” she said as she stood to answer. Whispered voices frayed my already delicate nerves. Sameen returned with a towel and a robe that she placed next to the tub. Heart racing, I reached to scrub the back of my neck, but she took the cloth from me, gently washing away the grime. “You’re practically skin and bone, but not as bad as I thought you’d be after months in a cell. Regardless, I’ve asked for food to be brought.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees to subdue my shaking limbs. “Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice weak.
She didn’t answer.
After a minute, she finally spoke. “A missive is being prepared as we speak and will be sent to your uncle. King Riaan wishes to see you tomorrow… after you see the healer.”
I swirled. “I don’t need a healer.”
She met my gaze. “Yes, you do, and if you don’t want me to make known to the king what I recognize your marks to truly be, I suggest you obey his wishes.”
Heat enflamed my face. She waited for my answer. I nodded once then sank within the depths of my humiliation.
I sat in the bath until the water lost its warmth and my skin dimpled in cold. Sameen wrapped me in a thick, cream-colored robe that fell to my toes and set me in a comfortable chair in front of the fire. Her fingers pulled through my wet tangles, using the heat from the fire to help it to dry.
“You have a lovely wave to your hair,” she said. “And what a wonderful color it has. I thought it was black, but it’s really a deep brown, isn’t it?”
I closed my eyes, almost enjoying her ministrations.
My lady’s maid in Anolyn, Pala, used to do this very thing for me when I was younger and naiver, but the woman was not what she seemed. No one was.
Another rap on the door caused me to jump. Sameen was already across the room. She opened the door a crack to peer out but then skirted back with a bow.
Mikael entered, carrying a silver serving tray. The prince followed his guard but froze two steps within the door when our gazes locked. My breath stilled in my lungs.
“I see now that your uncle’s artist is an incompetent fool,” he said.
The muscles between my brows tightened. I gripped the handles of the chair, jolting to the edge of the seat. “This is highly inappropriate, don’t you think?”
His hand flew out to halt me in place. “Please, stay where you are.” Piercing blue eyes searched my face and trailed the length of my hair down to the scar on my neck—then to the walls to inspect the tapestry that hung there instead. “You are an enemy and a recently released prisoner. Do you really think we respect your privacy? Besides, we bring you your dinner, Princess.”
My ragged nails dug into the soft wood of the arm rest. “I did not know that the prince of Anolyn was such a generous host. I might have left your prison sooner for such comforts.”
A smile lit the corners of his mouth. He gave a slight bow. “It’s amazing what a warm bath and hot dinner can do for one’s outlook on life, is it not?”
“I thought you did not have the time for such bothers.”
“I don’t.”
He tipped his head to Mikael, who handed the tray to Sameen. She set it on my lap—a small bowl of stew and another slice of bread.
My mouth exploded into salivating, but I didn’t move to eat.
Mikael began to search the room.
Castiel cleared his throat and peered out the windows to the vast expanse of his royal lawns. Did I sense nervousness in the lines of his face? But whatever I saw in his magnificent profile—for it was magnificent—was gone when he looked at me again.
“It has come to my attention that you have more injuries to you than what was delivered today by Scores.”
I couldn’t control the flush in my cheeks, or the sense of betrayal from Sameen. I should already be accustomed to such treatment.
“Who else hurt you?” he asked, unaware of my mental berating.
I smiled sweetly. “You shock me, Your Highness.”
“Was it done by my guards?”
I opened my mouth, but a memory of Scores pinned against a wall by an unseen force caused my throat to swell in anxiety. Despite his sudden concern, I needed to remember and never forget: Castiel was a magician capable of horrors I could only imagine.
I shrugged and stared at the fire. “A warrior cannot flee battle without a few scars. Have no fear, Your Highness. Your guards have been more than gracious.”
I lifted the lid to the soup, pretending nonchalance, then almost slammed it shut when my stomach groaned in an impatient declaration. I set the tray on the table next to me, then wiped my suddenly sweaty hands on my robe.
From behind me, a ruffle of blankets drew my attention. I smiled again when Mikael patted down the unused mattress to search for hidden weapons. “Will your guard be turning down my bed?”
Mikael froze in place. His tattoos danced in the fire’s light and added to his rather frightening glare. A clawed hand gripped a pillow as if he wanted to tear it in half—
Castiel actually laughed, a soft chuckle that vibrated in the back of my ears. Hands behind him, he paced the length of the room. “Until your removal, your room will be inspected several times a day, so get used to it.”
“That sounds more like you. Let’s not pretend to be friendly. That would upset my first impression of you.”
The prince stilled.
I silently cursed myself. When would I ever learn to shut my mouth as I had been taught?
He waited until his guard had finished with the search. Sameen was hesitant when asked to go with Mikael but did as she was told. I begged her with my eyes not to leave me alone with the magician, but the door shut behind her with a resolute click.
“You don’t know anything about me, Princess.” Castiel’s voice was a ghostly whisper that sent tremors throughout my body. “You want kind, do you? I’ve known who you are from the moment you entered my kingdom. I’ve watched you. Waited.”
He prowled forward to grasp the handles of my chair. His skin grazed mine. I gasped and jerked from his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. Had I expected a magician’s touch to be different from a human’s? I cursed my stupidity. Of course they wouldn’t feel different. I refrained from shrinking back further despite the flurry of butterflies that sickened the inside of my stomach.
He leaned forward, his face so near that I inhaled the scent of the soap he used to bathe.
It was an impressive show of intimidation—but I’d seen so much worse to be truly scared.
“Do you really think we treat our prisoners so well?” he asked. “Do you think you were properly searched upon arrival? Interrogated?”
My face exploded into uncomfortable blotches of red. My nails itched to scratch out the eyes that delved too deeply in mine, but before I could react he pushed away with added oomph. My chair tipped rearward, but I jerked forward and it slammed back down with a clatter.
Castiel reclaimed his place near the fire.
Hands shaking, I wrapped my robe even tighter around me and forced myself to remain calm. Even then, I heard the nervous lilt to my next words. “If that’s true, then—”