Chapter 4 Queen's Chamber
★ALTHEA★
I woke to the sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices.
For a moment, I did not know where I was. My eyes opened slowly, and I found myself still wrapped in the heavy robe Rhazien had given me. I sat up at once and looked around the carriage. The door was open.
A woman stood outside, waiting.
She was not a guard. She was older, with grey hair tied back neat and plain, and her face held no coldness. She looked at me as though I were a person and not an item.
“My lady,” she said.
I did not know how to answer to that. My throat felt dry. My body still felt weak from the road, and my mind had not yet fully woken.
The woman stepped closer, but not too close. “I am Greta,” she said. “I keep Lord Rhazien’s house.”
She held out her hand. I stared at it for a moment before taking it. Her palm was warm and steady. That alone made my chest feel strange.
“Come,” she said. “The king has ordered that you be brought inside at once. You must be tired.”
I almost laughed at that. Tired was too small a word.
She helped me down from the carriage. My feet touched the ground, and I looked up at the great stone keep before me. It rose high and dark against the night sky. The place was large beyond all reason. Towers stood above it. Narrow windows glowed with light. Men in armour moved at the doors and along the walls.
I had thought the king might keep me in some bare room near the servants. Instead, Greta led me through the great doors and into a wide hall, then up a stair and along a long passage. She didn't shout at me to walk faster. She didn't exert force in her hold on me. I kept waiting for the blow, but it did not come.
At last Greta stopped before a door and opened it. “This is for you,” she said.
I stepped inside and looked around, and I could not speak for a moment. It was a chamber fit for a queen.
There was a bed with clean linens, a chest, a chair, a small fire burning in the grate, and a broad window looking out over the dark mountains. The room was not rich in a foolish way, but it was plain and fine and mine. At least, it was meant to be mine.
I turned to Greta at once. “This is not for me.”
She gave me a small look, almost amused. “It is. You are the king’s wife.”
“I am his purchased item,” I said before I could stop myself.
Greta did not look offended. She only folded her hands. “You are in Cinderpeak now. Things are done as the king commands. He said you were to be given this chamber.”
I did not know what to say to that.
No one had ever given me a room because they thought I was worthy of one. No one had ever placed me in a place meant for comfort.
Greta nodded toward a door near the bed. “The bath is ready. You will use it now. After that, I will bring food.”
“I do not need to ba--”
She raised one brow, and I clamped my mouth shut.
“Bath first,” she said. “Food after. You are pale and worn. I will not have you falling over in your own room.”
There was no harshness in her voice. That made it harder to refuse.
I moved to the bath chamber and found a large wooden tub already filled with hot water. Steam rose from it. Clean cloths lay near the side. I stood there and stared for a little while, still not trusting my eyes.
I reached up and touched the robe around me. It still carried Rhazien’s warmth. I held it close for one moment longer, then set it aside.
Only then did I begin to undress.
My hands were slow. I had grown used to hurrying, to hiding, to keeping myself small. Now there was no one here to punish me if I took too long, and yet my body still moved as though Varro might come through the door at any breath.
I stepped into the bath and sank down at once. The heat eased some of the ache in my bones. I closed my eyes for a moment and let myself sit still and enjoy the warmth.
When I was done, I washed myself with care, then wrapped the cloth around me. By then Greta had returned with food on a tray. She set it down near the bed and glanced at me.
“There,” she said. “Much better.”
I looked at the food and my stomach twisted with hunger.
There was bread, some meat, and a bowl of stew. I stood there for one breath, then another, unsure if I was meant to wait or ask. Greta seemed to understand.
“Eat,” she said, and I obeyed.
At first I ate too fast. It was not manners that failed me, it was fear. Hunger had ruled me for so long that when food was set before me, I always feared it would be taken away before I had my fill. I broke the bread too quickly and shoveled the stew into my mouth before I had truly tasted it.
Greta said nothing. She only sat in the chair near the bed and watched me with calm eyes. I slowed down, and looked down at my hands—they shook a little. I had been eating like a beast. I set the bread down and swallowed hard.
“I am sorry,” I said, though I did not know why I said it.
Greta gave a small shake of her head. “You need not be sorry for hunger.”
I stared at her, stunned. No one had ever said such a thing to me.
I took a slower bite then. And then another. The food stayed where it was. No one snatched it, no one struck me, and one told me I had eaten too much or too fast.
Before long, my chest began to loosen. I finished the bowl, the bread, and even took the last bite of meat and found, to my own wonder, that I was not punished for it.
Greta saw the look on my face. “You may eat all of it,” she said. “There is more if you wish.”
I did not know what strange land I had entered, but I knew this was not Varro’s house. I set the tray aside and sat back slowly.
For a while I said nothing. Greta did not ask me questions I did not wish to answer. She only rose after some time and went to the door.
“If you need aught, ring the bell,” she said. “I am near.”
Then she was gone.
I stayed in the room after that, listening to the quiet.
I went to the window and looked out.
The keep sat high in the mountains, and the land below seemed far away. The world looked smaller from up here. I could see dark slopes, stone paths, and a few lights in the distance. The air outside the glass looked cold. I wrapped my arms about myself and stood there for a long while.
I had never lived so far above the earth before. It should have made me feel trapped. Instead, it made me feel cut off from the life I had known. Varro’s house, the shouting, the hunger, the fear, the hands that took what they wished from me—all of it felt very far away.
I touched the window frame. This was Rhazien’s keep, his words ruled here. That thought stayed with me.
I turned back to the bed and saw the robe still folded there. I went to it and picked it up. The cloth was thick and clean, and it still held the scent of him. I did not know why that mattered to me, only that it did.
I sat on the edge of the bed and held it in my lap. He had bought me—I could not pretend that he had not.
And yet he had also clothed me when I shivered. He had given me his own robe. He had brought me here and seen that I was placed in a proper chamber. He had not left me in the hall to be mocked or fed to wolves.
I did not know what to make of him.
I set the robe aside only after some time and lay down beneath the covers.
The bed was too soft. I turned once, then again, trying to find a place that felt right. My mind would not settle at once. I kept thinking of the carriage, of the weight of the robe on my shoulders, of the way his hand had held my head when he told me to sleep.
I did not trust him, but I could not deny that I felt safer in his house than I ever had in Varro’s. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and closed my eyes.
Just as I began to drift to sleep, a strange feeling stirred deep within me. It was small and quiet first. Then it came again, clearer this time. It was like a flutter.
My hand went to my chest at once, trying to feel it. I lay still and listened to my own body, and I felt it again.
Something inside me was waking, and I didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.
