There aretimes when I blink my eyes open and see the sun coming in through the windows of my chamber, and I do not move. All I have the strength to do is close them once again and let myself drift off. Sometimes I think I can hear someone singing or humming, but that might just be a memory of my mother replaying in my head.
Rolling onto my back, I stare up through the sheer, white fabric that hangs as a canopy over my bed. I try to remember how I got here. When did I lie down? When did I get down to only undershorts?
Though my chest is exposed, I’ve grown hot while I slept, so I pull the covers from me. The humming stops. Maybe it was the blanket that kept the sweet sound trapped inside my head after all. I beg for my eyes to close, for sleep to pull me back under, but my body knows that I’ve rested enough. My mind chases thought after thought with no plans to slow down.
The mattress dips at my side, and a cold hand brushes my shoulder. I shift, and my hair, flat to my forehead, sweeps into my eyes. Without bothering to move it, I’m still able to see the slender figure of a woman dressed in pale pink with rosy cheeks and shining ocean eyes. Valentina.
“You stayed.” I rasp, my mouth dry as cotton and my throat desperate for water.
“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Carefully, she runs her fingers over my forehead to push away the hair. I flinch as pain echoes into my skull. A headache is already forming.
“Sorry,” she says. “You’ve got stitches, and the flesh is already well on the way to healing. We should be able to take them out tonight.”
Stitches. So the cut had truly been that deep. I sigh, pushing myself up on my elbows.
Valentina’s eyes trail down to my exposed abdomen before her. The color of her cheeks deepens, and she quickly looks away. “Here, drink some water.” She grabs a waiting glass off my nightstand.
Condensation has made the glass slick. My touch fogs the glass as I bring it to my lips to sip. I hold her gaze, drinking greedily.
“Let me open up a window. For some fresh air.” She clears her throat, rushing up to the large panes that open onto my balcony. The sun is nowhere to be seen on the horizon, so it must be late in the day, at least later than I would usually get up.
Soundlessly, she guides the large door-like windows to their open position. A sweet-scented, cooling breeze ushers itself in, ruffling the ends of her gown. Is it her that I smell that is so pleasing? I can almost taste it on my tongue like honey.
“How long have I been asleep?” A ring has formed on my side table from my water glass sitting and waiting. I wipe it away with one hand before I place the cup back down.
Valentina stays near the window, wringing her hands in front of her. “It is nearly dinnertime now.”
I struggle to remember the last thing I can from the day before. Visits with Queen Lairis. Swordplay with Casimir.
Blood.
So much blood.
Something seizes in my chest. My heart struggles to beat as if someone has reached inside of me and fisted it in their hands.
“Merrick.” Valentina steps closer.
“I’m fine.” I hold up my hand. Sucking in the fresh air, I count the hours. My mother’s death... that had happened before dinner. I’ve nearly slept twenty-four hours.
My headboard is chilly against my back as I sit myself fully up, crossing my legs before me like a child. I stare down into my lap, looking at my hands. They’re mostly clean except for the smallest traces of drying blood under my fingernails.
Valentina had washed it all away. She’d stitched me up. She’d...
“Did you dress me?”
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, dragging my attention to that very motion. “I asked you if you wanted me to call for a servant. But you... your eyes were vacant. You didn’t answer. When I tried to walk away, you’d take hold of my hand and pull me back.”
Now it was my turn to blush. She’d seenallof me. Oh, gods, I’m going to throw up. Did she like what she saw? Was the water warm enough to keep me from looking... shriveled. My eyes go wide, and I can’t stand to look at her any longer.
Plenty of women have seen me naked. I’ve had enough conquests in my youth to be able to brag happily to my brothers. This feels different though. This is intimate.
She is practically a stepmother. She’s my father’s wife.
Is that all she’d seen this as? Taking care of a son? My stomach heaves at the thought, and I place a hand on my chest as if that might calm my racing pulse.
“Do not feel self-conscious, please, not on my account.” Valentina is there at my side again. Her pink-painted nails glisten as she smooths her hand over the sheet before sitting herself at my side. Her skin is velvet soft, fingers wrapping around my hand to take it into her grasp.
“I—” I don’t know what to say.
