He stared at his unexpected guest, slumbering so innocently in his dead wife’s solar. “We will consume each other, girl. I think it’s inevitable.”

CHAPTER TEN

Imogen awoke to a chamber vastly transformed from the night before. She no longer slumped in the chair but lay across a soft mattress, covered in an embroidered blanket. Somewhere, between the chair and the bed, she’d lost her clothes except for her shift, and the feel of fine linen and silk on her skin made her sigh and loll deeper in the bed for a moment.

Cededa must have carried her from the chair to the bed. She frowned. The idea made her uneasy. Despite that first terrifying meeting, when he’d greeted her with a blade against her throat, he’d been hospitable. Still, he unnerved her, and she admonished herself for not being more alert.

Sheer netting enclosed the bed in a gauzy cocoon through which weak morning light filtered. She pushed the netting aside and swung out of bed, stumbling as her shift twisted around her legs.

The chamber’s ramshackle state had been replaced by one of pristine luxury. Like the bed, the rest of the furniture appeared new, wood gleaming with a softly polished glow. The fireplace remained unlit, but the inner hearth was freshly swept. She padded to one of the two narrow windows. Still no glass or shutters to cover these, but they didn’t need it. The air outside hung warm and damp, stirred briefly by the occasional breeze that swirled into the room.

This room occupied a high spot in the undamaged portion of the palace, and Imogen leaned out one of the windows for a better look at the scenery beyond. Half concealed by mist made jaundiced by a weak sun, the broken city slumbered undisturbed by the voices of people or even bird song.

The oppressive silence that hung over Tineroth permeated the palace as well. Imogen left the window and padded to the door on bare feet. Even the hinges didn’t squeak as she opened it and peeked into the hallway. Only shadows greeted her. Wherever Cededa was, she suspected he’d remain unseen until he chose to reveal himself.

Assured of a modicum of privacy, she retreated into the room. Someone had left a pitcher of water and a bowl on a table by the bed. She found a chamber pot tucked under the bed and dry cloths stacked atop a clothes chest. She set to her morning ablutions, stripping off her shift to treat herself to a quick sponge bath.

The first touch on her neck, smooth and unblemished by the pendant scarring, made her cry out and then laugh. The room held no mirror to confirm what her fingers told her, but she sent Cededa a silent call of thanks for taking back his key. He was welcomed to it. She hoped never to see it or its like again in her lifetime.