The Forgotten Crown

Chapter Twenty-One

Morana lounged in the claw-foot tub within the center of her bathing room, her arms thrown over the lip. Steam wafted up from the water, the flower petals, oils and suds, disturbing the smooth surface. The air was sweet, condensation collecting on a pair of circular windows in front of her. Sunlight pooled through them, encasing the white walls and floors in a warm hue. Morana peered through the sheer curtains onto the courtyard below, the warmth of spring welcoming the brighter and fuller bushes and flora.

The princess' servants drew the bath after she returned from her training with Alastair, as they had every day for the past six weeks. They offered to scrub her, but she refused them. Morana was more than capable of cleaning her own ass.

She reached for the iron bracelet that rested on a counter close by. Her skin reacted only slightly to the metal, her blood used to the iron's pull by now. The prickling had become subtle, like a soothing maternal touch. The emeralds rattled against the chain as she brought it in front of her.

Within the last month and a half, there wasn't anymore talk of that servant's murder, or the goblin, since the incident. As if it was nothing more than a nightmare, now fading into memory. Even the gossiping servants, who cleaned her rooms and brought her meals, ceased their theories. It was Alastair who had educated her on the oddity, how goblins hadn't been seen in the lands for thousands and thousands of years.

Ferryn hadn't spoken of the incident either. If it wasn't for Alastair, Morana wouldn't have known what the princess had witnessed. She would have never guessed that she was grieving. On her frequent visits to Morana's rooms, she was always smiling, concealed behind that court-trained mask.

Morana had slept with the oil lamps lit for two weeks straight afterward. Though Alastair remained close to her and she continued to wear his bracelet, she still couldn't shake the caress of the king-consort's shadows or the looming possibility that Cinna's murderer had been targeting the queen. If the assassin had gotten into the queen's chamber so easily, it could bypass her own guards. However, as the captain tripled the guard and posted five new males outside of her chamber, she eased somewhat. And with the passing days and no other incidents, she finally relaxed.

A smile pulled on her lips as she returned the bracelet to its place upon the stone. Morana had only taken the thing off to bathe, to prevent the iron from rusting. She leaned her head back, letting the water soak into her hair as she closed her eyes.

Though hard to believe, she'd breezed through an entire month living alongside the fae. She supposed things would have been different if that damned captain hadn't spent nearly every day at her beckoning. Their conversations were becoming easier, especially since the night he had divulged so much. Her walls were melting around him, and she wasn't so sure that was a good thing.

Morana ran the fine soaps through her hair and scrubbed her skin clean. Swallows sang just outside of the window as she plucked the stopper from the drain and stood. She stepped onto a fur rug and reached for the pile of folded towels on a shelf to the right of the tub. The white fabric was dense and as soft as she imagined clouds would be. She patted herself dry and then wrapped the towel around her breasts, tucking the edge securely before grabbing the bracelet. She clasped it over her wrist, padding across the stone floor.

She opened the door into her bedroom and inhaled the crisp spring air. The servants cracked the arched windows, allowing the fresh breeze to waft into her space. It carried the scents of the budding flowers within the gardens and the faint smells from the bakeries and food stalls within the market.

It had become so warm during the days, her rooms facing the afternoon sun, that Morana opted to keep the fireplace empty and the windows open. She soaked in the sunlight that streamed through the glass and spilled onto the floor like liquid gold.