Bethania was right—a portion of the Olso border to the south was unguarded, the towers abandoned. Iria was still asleep as they crossed, and Aren sat up straight, alert and waiting for trouble.
It never came, and they easily crossed into the unguarded Lera. Aren found himself breathing a sigh of relief. When had Lera become his safe place?
They rode for a few hours, putting some distance between them and the border. They stopped not long after sunrise, and Galo led the horses to a stream while Iria sank down against a tree. Aren sat across from her and held out her canteen.
“Thanks.” She tipped her head back as she drank.
They sat in silence for several long moments. Galo didn’t come back, and Aren thought he was probably making himself scarce so they could talk. Aren wasn’t sure where to begin.
“The Ruined are really at the Lera castle?” Iria finally asked.
“That’s where they were headed when we left,” he said.
She jerked her head in the direction Galo had disappeared. “How’d you convince him to come?”
“I didn’t. He offered. We . . . became friends?” The statement felt strange, and came out as a question. But the word friend seemed the only appropriate way to describe Galo.
Iria laughed softly. “Huh.”
“And I think he feels guilty about everything.” He didn’t expand on what everything was, but he knew she understood.
Silence stretched out between them again, and he took in a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For abandoning you. For not saving you when the warriors took you.”
“You tried,” she said to the ground.
“If it hadn’t been for Olivia, I would have been at full strength and those warriors wouldn’t have stood a chance against me. I’m sorry I was too scared to separate myself from her.”
“I understand you had to stay with Em.”
“Maybe me and Em don’t always need to be together anymore. We want the same thing, and we can do it separately occasionally.”
She nodded. “It’s . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Thank you, Aren. For rescuing me. For everything.”
He noticed she didn’t say It’s all right, because maybe it wasn’t yet. Still, she didn’t seem mad at him. She looked exhausted, and in pain, and he thought that her relationship with him probably wasn’t her first priority at the moment.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “And if you need any help with your foot, don’t hesitate to ask.” He gestured at his scarred hands. “I have experience treating terrible wounds.”
She managed a small smile. “I’ll let you know.”
THIRTY-FIVE
EM PICKED A familiar pink dress for dinner. It was low-cut in front with a million buttons in back, and something about it appealed to her. It was beautiful, but it was more than that. When she pulled it out of the closest she was sure something great had happened the last time she wore it.
Em stared at the dresses for a long time before making her choice. Cas’s mother had picked out every one, and Em could hear the queen’s voice in her head—I have excellent taste—when she looked at them. She wasn’t sure if the queen would be furious or smug that Em still wore them after her death.
But apparently Cas didn’t mind her wearing them, since he’d brought them to his room. And she certainly wasn’t going to waste a huge wardrobe. Someone had worked hard, and quickly, to make all these dresses for her.
She’d told Cas she’d meet him in the private kitchen on the first floor, and she walked out of his room and through the castle hallway. It was still quieter than usual in the castle, but she spotted Mariana turning a corner to the sparring rooms with Mateo and another guard, Gisela following behind with a deeply suspicious look on her face. Em paused at the top of the stairs, wondering if she should go check on them.
No. She couldn’t hover around the Ruined forever, trying to ward off possible conflicts. The best thing she could do right now was to step back and let the Ruined get to know some of the people in the castle.
Two guards stood in front of the door to the dining room, and one opened it as she approached.
“Thank you,” she said as she stepped inside.
She’d never been in this room, even when she lived here before. The rectangular table in the center of the room sat eight, but only two places had been set, right across from each other. The curtains were drawn back from the two large windows, letting in the last wisps of sunlight and showing off a view of the side gardens.
Two people Em didn’t know stood at the end of the table, a tall, slim man and a pretty older woman, each of them holding a basket. They straightened as she walked into the room.
The door to her right swung open and Cas stepped out, changed into nicer clothes than the last time she’d seen him, but already rumpled. One side of his shirt stuck out of his pants. She stifled a giggle.
He smiled at her, then looked at the man and woman. “This is Queen Emelina. Em, this is Kenton and Lucinda. They own the largest bakery in Royal City. They made some cheese bread for me, and they brought you a present as well. I asked them to stay to deliver it personally.”
Lucinda crossed the room. She held it out to Em. “I made you some berry tarts, Your Majesty.”
Em took them slowly. “For me?”
“For you,” Lucinda said with a nervous laugh. “My children love them. I thought you might like to try them, since berries don’t grow in Ruina.”
“I—thank you,” Em stuttered. “That’s very kind of you.”
“They were made in the kitchen here,” Lucinda said. “I know there are strict rules about what you and King Casimir can eat.”
She didn’t know of any rules, but it had already crossed her mind that the tarts could be poisoned. She smiled and thanked them again.
Lucinda and her husband bowed their heads and left the room, a guard shutting the door behind them.
“She made me tarts,” Em said to Cas, holding them up.
“I know,” he said, his voice full of amusement. He crossed the room and kissed her gently.
“Are there rules about what you can eat?”
“Yes, since I was poisoned my food is strictly monitored. So is yours.” He pointed to the basket in her hand. “It was all prepared here, with ingredients from our kitchens, under guard supervision.”
“Wonderful.” She put the basket on the table and tried to suppress a grin as she looked at him. “Come here.”
“What?” He looked down at his clothes.
“You’re all rumpled.” She tucked the escaped edge of shirt back into his waistband. The first time she’d met him, she’d thought it was strange he was so rumpled and dusty, especially compared to his perfectly pressed parents. It had momentarily distracted her from the rage and terror she’d felt stepping out of that carriage as Mary.
Cas looked her up and down. “I know this dress. I unbuttoned this dress for you once.”
Em pressed her hands to the waist of her dress with a laugh. “I thought I remembered something nice about this dress.”
“That was back when you still hated me.”
“You were already wearing me down, honestly.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “I hope you’ll unbutton it for me again tonight,” she whispered against his lips.
His hand tightened on her waist. “I certainly will.”
She kissed him again, lingering for a moment. When she pulled away his eyes flicked to her left arm, which bore the scars of the Olso fire.
“Does that still hurt?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” He turned and headed back into the kitchen, and she followed him. Meat crackled on the stove, and he turned the two pieces over in the pan. A pot of something sat across from the meat, and she peeked inside. It was a white creamy soup.
“I may have had help with the soup,” he said. “And the bread. But I did knead it myself. I’ll start going down to the kitchen more often and take out my frustration on dough.”
She peeked into a bowl on the counter. Rolls. Next to it, a bowl of potatoes.
“You enjoy it?” she asked, sitting at the small table against the wall. “Cooking?”