The Winter King
Page 33
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The elegant but functional bedroom of Her Royal Highness, Princess Autumn, had been converted into a sensual, shadowy garden filled with hothouse blooms and lush greenery. Candles flickered around the perimeter of the room, casting a pale golden glow around the edges of the room and leaving the silk-draped bed a dark, mysterious cavern. Incense filled the room with rich, decadent scents. It was a bedroom designed to seduce the senses.
As soon as the doors of the “bridal bower” closed behind them, Khamsin threw back her veils and turned to her sisters in astonishment. “What’s going on here?”
“Tildy warned us the Winter King could identify a person by scent,” Summer said. “Since he thinks you’re Autumn, Tildy said the wedding night should take place here, in Autumn’s bedroom, where her scent is already absorbed into everything.”
“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent,” Spring added, “and deliberately arranged the candles so he won’t be able to get a good look at your face so long as you keep to the bed.”
“Where’s Autumn?” she asked.
“Here.”
Khamsin turned. Her sister emerged from the connecting wardrobe room wrapped in a forest green satin robe. Her long auburn hair spilled around her shoulders in ringlets.
“Scenting up your nightclothes.” Autumn grimaced. “I know I’m clean. I bathed this morning, but there’s still something wrong about rolling on sheets and rubbing myself on clothes all day. It just seems so . . . so . . . dirty.”
Despite everything, Khamsin laughed. For some reason, Autumn’s complaint struck her as funny. “You rolled on the sheets?”
“Tildavera suggested it. She told me to make sure I put my scent on anything you were likely to wear or touch.”
Tildy again. Friend, mother, traitor. Kham’s humor evaporated. Her hand clenched tight.
“Quickly,” Spring whispered. “We don’t have much time. Autumn, you and Storm need to change clothes before he gets here. He said we only had thirty minutes, and something tells me he’s not a man to run late.”
A low heat had begun simmering in Kham’s veins. She tossed off the silk veils and tugged at her bodice. “It’s hot in here.” She ran a hand across her brow, not surprised to find beads of perspiration blooming on her skin.
“We’ll open a window before we leave, but first let’s get you out of those clothes.” Summer’s fingers went to work untying the laces at the back of Kham’s gown. “Autumn, take off that robe and gown.”
Autumn shrugged out of the satin robe, and Khamsin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I’m supposed to wear that?”
Autumn blushed dark red. “Indecent, isn’t it?” The sleeveless, formfitting gown covered her from neck to ankle, but the center panels covering her br**sts and belly were virtually transparent—and held together only by three simple ribbon ties that would be all too easy to release. Like the rest of the room, the gown was meant to inflame and dizzy the senses.
“Was that Tildy’s idea, too?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t Father’s.” She hurried into the wardrobe and came back wearing a different robe and carrying the scandalous nightgown.
“Autumn, grab that pot of ointment.” Spring pointed to small ceramic pot on a table near the wardrobe door. “Tildy said we had to rub it on Storm’s skin. She didn’t say, but I guess she meant all over.”
“No,” Kham said. “Just on my back.”
Behind her, Summer let out a gasp as she freed the last of the laces and pushed the velvet gown off Khamsin’s back. “Storm . . . what happened to you? You’re covered in bandages.”
“I know.” Khamsin wriggled free of the velvet gown, shoved it down around her ankles, and stepped free of the heap of fabric. She was naked except for a pair of loose-fitting silk drawers and the bandages wrapped around her torso. “Do you have scissors to cut them off? They’ll show through that gown, which means I can’t keep them on.”
“Of course.” Autumn ran to a dresser and returned with a pair of scissors. “Here.” She handed the scissors to Summer, who immediately began slicing through the strips of linen.
Spring and Autumn let out shocked exclamations as their sister gently tugged the cloth free to reveal the ugly results of Verdan’s fury.
“Who did this?” Spring hissed. “Who would dare?”
“Who do you think?” Khamsin muttered.
“But why?” Summer’s hands trembled on the skin of Khamsin’s back. She was the gentlest of the sisters.
“The Winter King demanded a princess for a bride, and the Summer King wanted me gone.”
“He wouldn’t do this,” Autumn protested. “He couldn’t. Father wouldn’t risk cursing his own House this way.”
“You underestimate how much he despises me. I made him angry, then I defied him. He wasn’t thinking about the family. He was only thinking of breaking me.” She tossed her head. “Hurry. Put the ointment on. We’re running out of time.”
“You can’t possibly mean to go through with this,” Spring exclaimed. “Not in your condition.”
Now Khamsin did turn around. “I’ve been in a worse condition for three days now, and I will go through with this. It’s my choice. This isn’t the Summer King’s will: It’s mine. Now, put the ointment on my back so I can finish getting ready. My husband will be here soon, and if the marriage isn’t consummated before he discovers I’m not Autumn, everything I’ve done will have been for naught.”
As soon as the doors of the “bridal bower” closed behind them, Khamsin threw back her veils and turned to her sisters in astonishment. “What’s going on here?”
“Tildy warned us the Winter King could identify a person by scent,” Summer said. “Since he thinks you’re Autumn, Tildy said the wedding night should take place here, in Autumn’s bedroom, where her scent is already absorbed into everything.”
“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent,” Spring added, “and deliberately arranged the candles so he won’t be able to get a good look at your face so long as you keep to the bed.”
“Where’s Autumn?” she asked.
“Here.”
Khamsin turned. Her sister emerged from the connecting wardrobe room wrapped in a forest green satin robe. Her long auburn hair spilled around her shoulders in ringlets.
“Scenting up your nightclothes.” Autumn grimaced. “I know I’m clean. I bathed this morning, but there’s still something wrong about rolling on sheets and rubbing myself on clothes all day. It just seems so . . . so . . . dirty.”
Despite everything, Khamsin laughed. For some reason, Autumn’s complaint struck her as funny. “You rolled on the sheets?”
“Tildavera suggested it. She told me to make sure I put my scent on anything you were likely to wear or touch.”
Tildy again. Friend, mother, traitor. Kham’s humor evaporated. Her hand clenched tight.
“Quickly,” Spring whispered. “We don’t have much time. Autumn, you and Storm need to change clothes before he gets here. He said we only had thirty minutes, and something tells me he’s not a man to run late.”
A low heat had begun simmering in Kham’s veins. She tossed off the silk veils and tugged at her bodice. “It’s hot in here.” She ran a hand across her brow, not surprised to find beads of perspiration blooming on her skin.
“We’ll open a window before we leave, but first let’s get you out of those clothes.” Summer’s fingers went to work untying the laces at the back of Kham’s gown. “Autumn, take off that robe and gown.”
Autumn shrugged out of the satin robe, and Khamsin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I’m supposed to wear that?”
Autumn blushed dark red. “Indecent, isn’t it?” The sleeveless, formfitting gown covered her from neck to ankle, but the center panels covering her br**sts and belly were virtually transparent—and held together only by three simple ribbon ties that would be all too easy to release. Like the rest of the room, the gown was meant to inflame and dizzy the senses.
“Was that Tildy’s idea, too?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t Father’s.” She hurried into the wardrobe and came back wearing a different robe and carrying the scandalous nightgown.
“Autumn, grab that pot of ointment.” Spring pointed to small ceramic pot on a table near the wardrobe door. “Tildy said we had to rub it on Storm’s skin. She didn’t say, but I guess she meant all over.”
“No,” Kham said. “Just on my back.”
Behind her, Summer let out a gasp as she freed the last of the laces and pushed the velvet gown off Khamsin’s back. “Storm . . . what happened to you? You’re covered in bandages.”
“I know.” Khamsin wriggled free of the velvet gown, shoved it down around her ankles, and stepped free of the heap of fabric. She was naked except for a pair of loose-fitting silk drawers and the bandages wrapped around her torso. “Do you have scissors to cut them off? They’ll show through that gown, which means I can’t keep them on.”
“Of course.” Autumn ran to a dresser and returned with a pair of scissors. “Here.” She handed the scissors to Summer, who immediately began slicing through the strips of linen.
Spring and Autumn let out shocked exclamations as their sister gently tugged the cloth free to reveal the ugly results of Verdan’s fury.
“Who did this?” Spring hissed. “Who would dare?”
“Who do you think?” Khamsin muttered.
“But why?” Summer’s hands trembled on the skin of Khamsin’s back. She was the gentlest of the sisters.
“The Winter King demanded a princess for a bride, and the Summer King wanted me gone.”
“He wouldn’t do this,” Autumn protested. “He couldn’t. Father wouldn’t risk cursing his own House this way.”
“You underestimate how much he despises me. I made him angry, then I defied him. He wasn’t thinking about the family. He was only thinking of breaking me.” She tossed her head. “Hurry. Put the ointment on. We’re running out of time.”
“You can’t possibly mean to go through with this,” Spring exclaimed. “Not in your condition.”
Now Khamsin did turn around. “I’ve been in a worse condition for three days now, and I will go through with this. It’s my choice. This isn’t the Summer King’s will: It’s mine. Now, put the ointment on my back so I can finish getting ready. My husband will be here soon, and if the marriage isn’t consummated before he discovers I’m not Autumn, everything I’ve done will have been for naught.”
