Aesra’s gaze lingered on the second. “Understood?”
“Loud and clear,” the girl replied smoothly.
Aesra turned to Willow. “Poppy and Jace will handle your needs from here,” she said, and with no ceremony or even a “good night,” she spun on her heel and strode away.
The moment Aesra was out of sight, the room broke back into high-spirited chatter and laughter.
The girl in lavender took Willow’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“I’m Poppy,” she said. “Personal chambermaid. Anything you need—stockings, stories, a scarf that sings you to sleep—I’m your girl.”
“I’m Jace,” said the redhead. She tilted her chin at Poppy. “She’s decent with lace and lotions, but I’m better with food.”
Poppy sniffed. “Because you flirt with the cook.”
“No, because I know how to get things done,” Jace countered. She looked Willow up and down. “You like moonfruit tart? I can find you one before the hour’s out. Need a spare box of darwinkles? I know where they’re hidden.”
Willow blinked at them, still trying to absorb the strangeness of the day.
There’d been the Box, then the forest and the sly little duskwyrm. The court, the palace, the throne room. After Severine’s ethereal grandeur and the whispered reverence of thecourt, these two felt real and oddly comforting, even if she had no clue what a darwinkle was or how to know if she needed one.
“It’s lovely to meet you both,” she said.
“Oh, we’re lovely, all right,” Poppy said with a grin. “You, on the other hand...”
“Need a bit of a dust-off,” said Jace.
They each took an arm and swept her down the hall. There were more pictures of Serrin, but the walls here were also hung with scenes of feasts and dances and horned creatures leaping between trees.
Other attendants bustled past—one balancing a pyramid of goblets, another carrying bolts of velvet. All of them paused to glance at Willow.
“Yep, she’s here!” Poppy called out, tossing her hair. “The new girl from the Queen’s Box. And she’sours.”
“Thenewgirl?” Willow said. “Have there been others?”
They rounded a corner and nearly collided with a juggler spinning flaming pears.
“Oops, sorry!” Poppy called.
Then they climbed a staircase that coiled upward like a snail shell—smooth, warm, and slightly squishy.
“Nearly there,” Poppy said. “Hope you like rosewater.”
“If you prefer cucumber, just let me know,” said Jace. “I know a guy.”
They stopped before two tall doors, which Poppy flung wide. “Ta-da.”
Willow stepped inside and stared.
The windows were draped in curtains the color of apricots and pearls. A great bed lounged in the center of the room, its coverlet quilted with tiny glowing fireflies.
“Knew you’d like it,” Poppy said, steering her deeper into the room. “Wait till you see the bath. Do you know what that is? A bath?”
Willow opened her mouth to respond, but the bathing chamber took her breath away. A sunken tub sat in the middle, filled with water that not only smelled like roses but held the hue of roses.
Jace rubbed her hands together. “Right, then. Let’s un-human you.”
Willow’s boots were removed, her peasant blouse lifted, and her jeans peeled off. Jace carried them out of the room at arm’s length as if they were so smelly their stench might burn her skin off. Which, to be fair, it might.
