Chapters (64)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Pronunciation Guide
- Prologue
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Part Two
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Part Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Part Four
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Epilogue
- Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
- The Night and Its Moon Playlist
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Other than their dips in the stream, they hadn’t had proper baths with soap since their night in Yelagin. Feeling rather embarrassed at the implication, the reevers dismounted and allowed their horses to be led away by flustered servants. She realized the attendants were dressed to reflect the neutrals of the stone, as if they were merely living elements of the castle, scarcely discernible from the rocks on which it was built. Even in their simple linens, they were impeccably clean.
She hadn’t thought a bath would stand between her and her dispatch, but she understood the need. Perhaps a good cleaning would give her time to calm her nerves. Amaris’s heart pounded at having come so close to completing her task. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she racked her brain for speeches and words important enough for the queen, a simple comment grounded and comforted her. Despite the severity of their situation, she could have sworn she heard Malik asking about when they might be fed.
* * *
Amaris knew she was being ungrateful, but she didn’t care.
She would rather burn down the castle than be forced into a frilly dress. She argued with the personal attendant about the attire provided for her, and it was clear that her obstinance had driven the woman to the verge of tears. Amaris had not worn a dress in years, and she absolutely wouldn’t be forced into one now. She’d barely been old enough to transition from pants to dresses in Farleigh before she’d escaped and returned permanently to the male garb of the reevers.
“Miss, please, see reason…”
“You will find pants and a suitable shirt,” Amaris said coolly, flexing her persuasion yet again. Perhaps she was abusing her gift, but she would rather brainwash every servant in the kingdom than be forced into a girdle.
The woman dipped her chin obediently and turned to find something appropriate.
Amaris comforted herself that she was in the right. She couldn’t possibly wear a proper lady’s dress. What if things went poorly? What if she needed to run or fight? How was she supposed to dive or roll or crouch while wearing skirts and lace and petticoats? The personal attendant’s nose had reddened in the moments before crying, clearly taking crimes against fashion very seriously. She left Amaris with two other young servants to help her bathe and wash her hair—despite her protestations that she was capable of bathing herself—and ran off.
When Amaris asked why she couldn’t wear her tunic, the stewardess informed her that her filthy road things were to be burned. The servants revised their plan with immediate obedience after a flex of Amaris’s power. She had grown a little more generous with her guidelines for acceptable usage regarding her gift over the last few hours, it seemed.