“Enough,” Aerity said. She trembled on the inside with the power of her unleashed emotions. She moved forward. Caitrin’s forehead touched the floor as she pressed a hand tightly over her mouth, her body shuddering. The girl knew what could be done to her. If Aerity had a mind to punish her, she could be beaten, sent to the dungeon, even killed. But her anger was not for her maid. “Stand up, Cait.”
Lord Alvi stared, as if unsure what to do, but Aerity did not acknowledge him.
Caitrin, a year older than Aerity, was someone she’d caredfor since she became her maid three years ago. She knew she had every right to be angry with the girl, but the fact was that she did not love Lord Alvi, and Caitrin was quite aware of that. She also understood the allure of the handsome, powerful lord from the coldlands.
Caitrin shuffled to her feet, her face still down, wiping at her cheeks and then fumbling with her skirts.
“Look at me,” Aerity said.
Caitrin lifted her face and looked at the princess through watery, guilt-lined eyes.
“You will fetch me dye, something dark like mahogany. And shears. Bring them to my chambers tomorrow at sunset.”
“Sh-shears, Your Highness?” Caitrin croaked and reached up to grasp her flowing locks, aghast.
“We’re not cutting your hair, Caitrin,” Aerity said impatiently. “I’ll also need a commoner’s dress and boots. Be discreet about this, do you understand? Not a word.”
“My lady . . .” Lord Alvi said with concern, but Aerity kept her eyes on her maid.
“Go.”
Caitrin nodded, grasping her brown skirts and rushing away.
Only when the maid was out of sight did Aerity turn her fearsome gaze on Lord Alvi.
“I can see you’re angry,” he said with care. “But to be fair nobody was ever to know—”
“In the future you will keep your dalliances outside thesecastle walls.” It was bound to get out eventually that there was no love between the two of them, and that her future husband would take other women. Aerity was not looking forward to the pity she would no doubt receive from people.
Lord Alvi nodded. “That is fair.”
A huff of unamused air blew from Aerity’s nose. “None of this isfair,” she said.
His eyebrows came together, and he stepped closer. “What do you expect from me, Princess? I am a man. You, my bride-to-be, are busy dreaming of a lawbreaking man who’s run afar, and your lovely cousin will not so much as glance at me.”
“You poor, dear thing.” Aerity moved closer, too, practically hissing. “I’m so very sorry my cousin and I are not meeting yourneeds—”
Footsteps echoed down the hall and they looked to see a guard checking out the noise.
“Leave us!” Aerity yelled.
The guard gave a stiff nod and turned on his heel.
“I am trying to learn your ways the best that I can, Princess, but my blood will always run cold—I am Ascomannian. Your Lochlan ways are not instinctive to me. I cannot understand why your society hinders its people in so many ways.”
In his voice was something akin to homesickness. Aerity could almost hear the mirrored sense of entrapment that she felt.
“What are you planning?” Lord Alvi asked. His eyes held distress. Always, this man confused her with his brutishinstincts and untimely kindnesses.
“It’s none of your concern.”
“I disagree. You are my concern whether you want to be or not. If you are planning to put yourself into danger—”
“Do not fret about my well-being. I will seek Lieutenant Gillfin for help and companionship.”
“Ah, a Lochlan man you can trust,” he said as if hurt.
“Aye, that’s right,” Aerity said back. “A man who’s loyal and won’t make a fool of me someday.”
