“I guess, but so is privacy.” I practically had to chase her out of my bathing chamber—a windowless, marbled room with an elegant tub in the center. Sculpted especially for the queen, Corrin made sure to inform me, an opulence for the royal household, as are the flushing toilets. “I thought she was going to climb into the bath with me at one point.”
“Princess Romeria’s staff did everything for her.”
“Well, I’m not her. I’ve told you that.” And there is far more truth to that than he will ever realize.
“And I told you that you will need to learn how to be her.” Finally, he lifts his gaze to meet mine before it shifts to my dress. Corrin was right in that the design suitably covers my scars, the gold embroidery cinching around my neck in a fitted decorative collar, the three-quarter-length sleeves opaque. But the plunging keyhole neckline coupled with a snug bodice that pushes everything up does little to hide much else.
Whatever Princess Romeria was, she wasn’t modest. And while I’ve worn my share of risqué outfits, having Zander’s attention on me now makes my heart race. The same questions as always cycle through my mind. How many private memories of this body I inhabit does he have? How many private moments with his body have I had that I am entirely unaware of?
I’m beginning to think complete ignorance will be my saving grace in all this. “How is Elisaf?”
His hazel eyes flip back to mine, his expression unreadable. “Wendeline is tending to him. It was a superficial wound.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I saw his bone.”
He sighs, as if searching for patience with a petulant child. “I meant, it was made with a basic steel blade. Not one like this.” He pulls his jeweled dagger from the scabbard at his hip. “Remember this one?”
“How could I forget.” I flex my hand where the faint line remains.
“I had no choice. I had to ensure you wouldn’t use the river to attack us.”
“And maiming me would stop that?”
“Pain would, yes. You cannot channel your affinity through it.” He approaches, holding the dagger for me to get a closer look. The silver gleams like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “The blade is forged with merth, meaning it takes much longer for your wounds to heal and scars are inevitable. Though, apparently, minor on you.” The corner of his mouth tugs. “And if you had been successful at distracting me and lifted this weapon from my scabbard as you were intent upon doing, and then stabbed me with it, the wound would’ve been much more difficult to treat. Depending on where you hit me, possibly fatal.”
So Zander was aware that I tried to steal it. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll try again?”
“I think you’re smart enough not to.”
True. Now that I’ve seen firsthand how talented he is with a weapon, I can appreciate how foolish my attempt was. Are all elven as skilled as he is?
He slides his dagger back into its place at his hip. “Do your injuries still hurt?”
“Not really. Tight more than anything.”
“Perhaps Wendeline should take another look.”
“I thought her talents would be far better used elsewhere.”
“Do you plan on throwing back every word that’s ever escaped my mouth?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see what I remember.”
“Which is quite a lot, ironically.” He smirks. “Are you wondering why I’ve moved you here?”
“No. I understand.”
“I’m glad you haven’t lost your keen skills for deception.” His interest drifts over the mantel, the flowers, the furniture. Everything but me.
“So what’s the plan?”
“As I expected, the rumors are running rampant in the court. You will meet me in the throne room shortly to receive your formal absolution for all crimes. Tomorrow, Wendeline will begin helping you fill in holes in your memory, so you can at least appear to have some knowledge of who you are. You will smile and listen and not speak.”
“At all?” A princess who defers to her betrothed on all matters of the court.
“As little as possible,” he amends. “Should someone attempt to make contact, you will tell me.”
“Of course.” I have no reason not to.