"My lady--" he began.
"What happened was my fault." Kestra's tone was commanding. "Get her out of here, Gerald. Now."
Trina glanced at me as Gerald led her out, leaning heavily on his arm. I'd known she was afraid of that rod, but not the full depth of her fear.
As soon as she was gone, Kestra faced her father, as defiant as before. He didn't appreciate his daughter taking responsibility for the bathwater, but once she did, he wasn't likely to punish Trina. Kestra might not be so lucky.
"May I go?" she asked.
Sir Henry's eyes narrowed. "You chose a servant over your own father. There are consequences for your disrespect. Put out your hand." A flick of his head brought his guard forward with the rod.
Instinctively, I gripped my knife, but as soon as the guard noticed, I released the handle. I had to. If Kestra took notice of the exchange, she didn't acknowledge it. She walked up to her father and held out her hand, using the same indifferent attitude she had attempted with Tenger in the carriage.
Sir Henry took it, drawing back the sleeve enough to ensure she would fully feel the sting on her palm. In doing so, he saw the sores on her wrists, still red and swollen. His brows pressed together. "Where did these come from?"
From the same girl he had wanted to punish, ironically. If he would whip Trina for overturning the bath, I could easily imagine what would happen if she were exposed for tying Kestra up last night. That was my fault as well. I hadn't tied Kestra's wrists, but I'd allowed it, wanting her to know what it felt like. How selfish that had been, how cruel.
Kestra only shrugged. "We were attacked at the inn last night, on our way here."
"Who did this?"
"Do you care?" She licked her lips. "I mean, do you care ... for me?"
"I care about any attack on a Dallisor. Was it Coracks? What did they want?"
He missed Kestra's meaning, deliberately, I thought. Sir Henry would rather discuss anything but his feelings for his daughter. If he had any feelings for her. I'd had two fathers in my life, the one I was born to, the other who took me in and adopted me. Both were great men whose lives had ended too soon. In half the lifetime of Sir Henry, they had felt ten times the love a father should have for his child.
Kestra ignored her father's question, instead retorting with "Most people out there think that being a Dallisor is enough reason to attack us! Why is that? Can we have that conversation, Father, about the real reasons people hate us?"
He studied the sores again, noting with his finger the difference between the cut from Trina's knife and the sores gouged into the skin from the rope. Finally, he released his daughter's hand as if it had burned him. "Cover these for the supper tonight with Sir Basil, and have your handmaiden apply healing creams to them. That will be enough punishment for the bathwater. I won't have you meeting your future husband with your palms bandaged too. Agreed?"
Kestra pressed her lips tightly together. It was obvious that all her strength was going into containing her temper. "Agreed."
Trina was alone in my room when I entered. Simon was probably itching to be here to see how these next few minutes unfolded, but, of course, his presence in a lady's bedroom would never be tolerated.
The large basin for my bath was upright again and filled with steaming water that beckoned me closer. I paused, trying to figure out what Trina meant by all of this. Was it a show for Gerald, expecting he would accompany me here? Was she going to tempt me toward the water, and then use the bath herself instead?
Trina stood when I entered. The ropes around her wrists were gone and she had been given a new dress with a handmaiden's apron, much humbler than the yellow one of mine she had been wearing. She looked more the part of a servant now, and seemed to feel the difference, which must have been humiliating. She had joined the Coracks to fight and find glory in disrupting the peace. Not to help bathe an arrogant and spoiled Dallisor daughter. That much about me was true.
I said nothing to her, and she remained silent too. She only shut the door, then crossed behind me to unlace my dress. Once I was in the bath, I closed my eyes and let the worst of the day wash away from me. Not even on the coldest winter night had warm waters given me such comfort. Trina undid my braids and let the hair fall outside the tub, then brushed it out, all in silence.
I mumbled that I would wash my own hair and reached for the soaps before she could say anything, if she would have. When I'd finished and dried myself off, I realized for the first time that all of my gowns had been left behind at the inn, except the blue one, which was dirty and smelled of our travels.
Trina's eyes were cast down when she said, "Your father had a new gown waiting up here, in anticipation of your supper tonight. I'll get it."
The gown had a black shift with narrow sleeves that widened at the wrists, an off-the-shoulder green corset that laced up the back, and a long green sash that tied at the waist. Endrick's colors. Considering that my father could not have known how much I'd grown in the last few years, once Trina helped me into it, the dress fit remarkably well. Maybe Celia had sent him my measurements. She was certainly telling people everything else about me.
"Gerald's blue ... condition," I said. "You can't stare at it like you did before. You're a servant and he is your superior here at Woodcourt."
"I know that. I just wasn't expecting ..."
"He probably used to live near the silver mines, or worked in them as a young man. The silver dust affects the skin, that's all. Don't stare anymore. Don't stare at anything here."
We cut off the conversation when a knock came to my door. Trina answered it, returning a moment later with something wrapped in cloth.
From it, she offered me an apple. It wasn't much, but I hadn't eaten anything for a full day and dove at the fruit like it was the last of its kind.
"Thank you!" Simon must've brought this, an unexpected kindness. Even more unexpected was the flutter within me. Was that for him?