“Baths,” Jeff breathed. “Ones we don’t have to draw ourselves.”
We watched with greedy eyes as servants poured hot water from copper cans into the tubs while another servant added sweet herbs, turning the steam fragrant. More servants stood at attention holding towels, soap and long-handled brushes, and an august person stood next to a straight-backed chair holding a tray of razors, combs, scissors and other tools of a barber.
A dry smile curved the majordomo’s thin lips. “If my lord and sirs will remove their clothes?”
Before we could undo the first lacing, the servants swarmed us, stripping us naked and dumping us in the tubs. Those with the soap and brushes then descended and set to work.
“Hey, watch where you put that— Ow!” Jeff yelped.
“Sorry, sir,” the servant said, not stopping his scrubbing.
“There are dead fleas in my water,” Arlie remarked, looking down.
I said nothing, distracted by how my skin was glowing bright red. But the knots and kinks were starting to loosen and I slid down into the tub as far as I could go, allowing the heat to envelop me. Through the curling steam I watched servants buzzing around the chamber, laying out smalls, shirts and winter hosen, buffing our boots (one servant reverently picked up mine—Habbs, for city wear), and opening bundles that revealed two more Royal Guard uniforms, minus the officer’s insignia. Over by his chair, the barber used tongs to turn his hot towels as he poured something over them from an unstoppered bottle, and more fragrant steam rose to add its spice to the room. As the king’s study was a far cry from jail, this was as far as the moon from my life as a farmer’s son turned horse soldier.
I stopped a servant’s attempt to scrub me by taking the bath brush myself. Foiled, he turned to my hair and started to undo the tie, plucking the feather from it first. Without thought, my hand flew up, catching his wrist. Still holding the brush in my other hand, I twisted around, sending the water in the tub sloshing.
“There he goes again,” Arlie said, sinking down into his bath.
“Rabbit,” Jeff said, sighing.
Everyone else in the room went still, all eyes fastened on me.
All except the king’s majordomo. “Give me the feather, Finn,” he said as he walked up to the tub, and Finn released the feather into his outstretched hand. The majordomo then placed it on the edge of the washstand where I could easily see it. “It’ll be here until you’re ready to wear it again, my lord.”
Realizing I still gripped Finn’s wrist, I released it to rub my hand over my face. “I’m sorry, Master Finn.” I tried a smile and it came out crooked. “It’s that—” I stopped and gave my own sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“He is just ‘Finn,’ Lord Rabbit,” the majordomo said over Finn’s murmured acceptance of my apology. He moved aside the other servant and finished undoing my braid. “As I am merely Cais.” Picking up a copper can, he carefully wetted my hair. “That is the feather Ambassador Laurel gave you, correct?”
“Yes, Master—yes, Cais.”
“We understand that it is very important to you.”
“Yes,” I murmured. “I suppose it’s important.” Making myself relax, I sat back and allowed Cais to wash my hair. However, throughout the remainder of my bath and while I was shaved, my eyes kept drifting to the washstand, the feather bright red against the white of the porcelain top— and as soon as my hair was braided once again, I nonchalantly snatched it up again. Tucking the feather back into my braid, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Then, taking my staff from where it was propped against the wall, I turned to face the mirror. The cut, drape and fit of my tabard and trousers were excellent, indicating that they were made specifically for my tall, rangy frame. Wondering how long Jusson had planned my annexation by the Royal Guards, I reached up to straighten my braid, but Cais beat me to it. Startled, I met his bland gaze before he turned to give Jeff’s tabard a smoothing tug and to adjust Arlie’s sword belt. He then stepped back. “Very good. If my lord and sirs would follow me.”
Cais led us to the front stair and, as we descended, I looked around. Having been hustled through earlier by Thadro, I hadn’t been able to see much. The staircase swept down to the black-and-white-checkered marble foyer floor, while above a huge crystal chandelier rained light on us. It was as austerely elegant as the king’s study and, reaching the first landing, I craned my neck, trying to see more of the house. Just then, though, a gong sounded and both Jeff and I froze. Cais and Arlis continued a couple of steps, then turned to stare back up at us, surprised. Then Arlie’s mouth quirked.
“That was the dinner gong, lads.” His teeth flashed white in his freshly trimmed and oiled beard. “Food’s on.”
Jeff’s face flushed and I felt my own face heat once more. “I know what a dinner gong is—” I broke off, hearing someone walking quickly over the marble floor. A moment later, Thadro came into view.
“Good,” he said as we finished descending. “I was just coming to get you. Cais, if you would take Arlis and Jeffen to the guards’ mess.”
With a bow, Cais led Arlie and Jeff away. I caught Jeff’s sympathetic glance over his shoulder, then they were gone, leaving the Lord Commander and me alone in the marble-and-crystal foyer. I could feel the weight of his stare as the silence stretched out.
“Lieutenant Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan, second to the Lord Commander of the Royal Army and Royal Guard, and heir to his Majesty, King Jusson IV. Pretty high up in the world for someone who was just plain Trooper Rabbit in the Freston Mountain Patrol a few months ago.” Thadro paused, but having been plain Trooper Rabbit, I knew better than to fall into that trap. I kept silent.
“Do you think that you’re now in clover, Lord Rabbit? That you’ve had a honey fall?”
I also knew when to answer. “No, sir.”
” ‘No’ is right,” Thadro said. “You were assigned this post only because His Majesty’s acknowledged heir shouldn’t be in a back-mountain troop made up of the disgraced.” He stepped closer and I resisted the urge to move away. “But this is not a plum to be eaten at your leisure. As the king said, you are his, and now you’re also mine. You will learn what it means to be both.”
Thadro paused again, but I once more stayed quiet. I wasn’t about to point out that Jusson had no problem with me being in that same troop since my coming to Iversterre. Nor was I going to tell him that I had absolutely no desire to be a royal guard and even less in being the king’s heir. But even more than my recent past and present inclinations, what held me mute was that, while serving under Suiden had never been easy, I’d never doubted my worth to my captain. This was the first time I’d ever had a commanding officer look at me as though I was something he’d found wiggling in a mud puddle. I felt my gut tighten with the beginnings of anger.
The silence lengthened, then Thadro’s mouth twisted into a smile. “However, as Guardsman Arlis pointed out, it is now time for evening meal.” Turning around, he headed out of the foyer. I fell in behind him, my stomach rumbling as it reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since that morning. “You are dining with His Majesty and his guests tonight.”
Thadro said over his shoulder as he led down the hallway to another guarded door. The Own on either side stiffened to attention and one reached for the doorknob. Thadro, though, stopped the guard and faced me, his smile fading. “His Majesty is holding this dinner in part to undo the damage you caused this morning. I will not have you unraveling what he is working hard to knit together. You are to follow my lead and direction, and when in doubt you will shut up and smile. Understand?”