“My village is up ahead.”
“How many people?”
“About six hundred of us live in the main camp. There are smaller settlements nearby. We number about three thousand in total.”
“So many. How do you feed everyone?”
“We forage and hunt. We also send trusted individuals into Oceanside or up to Canavale to trade for goods we can’t grow or hunt here in The Boscage. Or we did, before the invasion,” he says wryly. “Brenica, my mother, ordered everyone to stay home ever since the invasion.”
“Yet you come and go?”
“I have been tasked with monitoring the situation. My run-in with the Myseci princess puts me in a good position to keep the queen appraised of new developments. As long as the Ansi aren’t directly threatened, you won’t find it easy to win her cooperation.”
I mulled this for the rest of the walk.
We came to a stone bridge over the stream. On the opposite bank was a large opening leading to the jungle. An enormous stone lay propped against the wall beside it, presumably to block the entrance in an emergency.
To my left was a circular opening with a fire pit in the center, filling the air with the scent of roasting meat. My stomach gurgles. I’m faint with hunger. A pathway winds around and up, no stairs, just a long circular ramp cut into the cliffside.
“Remarkable,” I breathe.
“Welcome to my home, Princess.” The charming hint of humor that makes Tovian sound like he’s perpetually flirting with you is belied by his use of my title. I straighten. Our arrival attracts a crowd, staring at me with unnerving silence. I had no way to distinguish class differences. Only when Tovian approaches imposing woman with graying braided hair, deep tawny skin like his, and a similar slant to her eyes and cheeks, did I realize I was greeting the queen herself.
That was quick.
I bow, wondering whether I should have curtsied, or if that would look stupid for a woman wearing ripped-up pants and a torn, stained shirt.
Brenica’s nose crinkles.
“This is the Myseci girl?” she asks Tovian.
“Princess Raina,” I say firmly. Glancing at him, I detect a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s enjoying this collision of two monarchs.
The queen’s gaze rakes down my body, taking in the mess. “I cannot abide the filth of outsiders. Tovian, have our visitor washed and dressed properly. Then we shall discuss business.”
“But there’s no time—”
Tovian takes my arm. “Don’t argue. She won’t listen until you’ve washed. It’s our custom. We do not permit outsiders. This is our way of assuring everyone that you are known to the queen and here with her permission.”
He did warn me. And a bath does sound amazing. It’s only that I’m worried about Ephram, Luza, Orisa, and the rest of the resistance encampment. Did they manage to get word to the contingent hiding in the cliffs?
Tovian hands me to two women, both naked from the waist up with tiny little dragonskin leather skirts that hug their hips. Full-on nudity is common here, even among the women. I guess it makes sense, what with the heat, but it’s disorienting for me—and I’m already light-headed with fatigue and hunger.
“Is there anything to eat?” I ask. The ladies exchange glances. One of them calls out to another woman sitting near the rocks, sorting piles of what looked like drying cloths. She stalks away, back toward the fire pit. In her absence, my guides strip my soiled clothes off and indicate I should get into a pool of water fed by another one of those mysterious waterfalls.
Suddenly self-conscious, I eyed the women out of the corner of my eye. I have a nice rack, if I do say so myself, but compared to these women I’m short, skinny and pale. Why would Tovian be attracted to me when he has all these gorgeous, naked women around?
Make it make sense.
Yes, there’s the royal title, but he didn’t know I was a princess when we met. I’m not so convinced of my own attractiveness that I believe I’m uniquely compelling.
Why would I be? History amply demonstrates that when presented with another option, men will take it. Enthusiastically.
Stop. It was one person, and you’ve admitted you were out of line.
My tired brain can’t find a rational explanation. I sink into the warm water and casually stuff the fish and rice balls I’m brought into my mouth like popcorn at a movie. Asking for food winds up being a mistake. With a full belly, floating in a bath of warm mineral water, attended by women who were washing my hair and frankly getting a little too personal—
“OW!”
