Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

When he put it that way, Rissa felt much less guilty. After all, it wasn’t as though he’d slept in her bed in order to do…whatever it was that married people did together. He was simply keeping her cool and safe. His ability to chill his body temperature kept her from overheating and also, what assassin would dare attack her when she was being held in the big Kindred’s arms?

“When you put it that way, I almost think we should sleep together this way every night,” Rissa said thoughtfully.

He shrugged.

“Why not? I would be pleased to hold you in my arms and cool you every night for as long as I am with you, Princess.”

“Well…” Rissa began, but just then there was a light tapping at the outer door to her rooms. “Quickly!” she hissed at James. “That will be my maid, Liza! You must go into the outer bedchamber, which is meant for my Companion. Make haste! Oh, and do not forget your boots and coat!” she added.

James was up in a flash and moving so fast he seemed to be almost a blur. He looked through the peep hole in the door and then nodded to her before disappearing into the outer bedchamber, just as she had asked.

The moment he shut the door, Rissa rose and went to open the outer door for the maid, as she usually did every morning.

Liza was standing there patiently, holding a heavy breakfast tray in her skinny arms and wearing a black dress and white apron and cap—the uniform of the palace servants.

“G’day, my Lady,” she said, dropping a quarter curtsy, which was all she could manage holding the large silver tray. “Got your breakfast here, nice and hot.”

“Come in, come in,” Rissa invited. She stood to one side, allowing the maid into the room and gestured to the breakfast table, which was opposite the bed and directly beside the large floor to ceiling glass doors.

Liza sat the tray down carefully and then went to draw the heavy brocade drapes and open the glass double doors which opened onto a balcony overlooking the palace gardens.

“Mmm…lovely day,” she remarked, breathing deeply as the scents of honey-bloom and pink blossom drifted into the room. “And how are you this morning, my Lady?” she asked, turning to Rissa. She frowned. “I must say, you’re looking very refreshed. Did you get up early to wash?”

Normally Rissa was still drenched in sweat with her hair in a tangle and her nightdress sticking to her damp body when she answered the door for the maid in the morning—which she did in order not to wake Lady Mildew. She had always felt that the longer she could let her old chaperone sleep, the better the morning was.

This morning, however, she had slept cool and dry and she felt exceedingly refreshed and happy. Still, she couldn’t let anyone know the reason for that—not even Liza, who was generally friendly.

“Yes, yes I did,” she said, smiling at the maid. “And you’re right—it’s a lovely morning.”

“That it is.” Liza went to strip the sheets off the bed as she did every morning and frowned. “My lady,” she said to Rissa. “Your sheets—they’re dry. Is everything all right? I mean, you know, with your Cycle and all?” she finished in a half-whisper.

“Perfectly fine,” Rissa assured her, smiling.

“But…but your Cycle—” Liza began.

“Is on a downturn,” Rissa finished for her.

Liza frowned.

“But I thought it was on an upturn. For didn’t you overheat yesterday in the Reception Hall? I was quite worried about you, my Lady, when I read about it in the latest issue of Lady TittleTattle’s Breadcrumbs.”

“Oh, is there a new issue?” Rissa exclaimed. “Did you bring it for me, Liza?”

Her maid’s plain face broke into a broad smile.

“Yes, of course I did, my Lady! Don’t I always take care of you?”

“You certainly do.” Rissa smiled at the other girl warmly. She had always liked the maid, who had been looking after her ever since she’d started her Cycle and moved into her mother’s grand apartments. They had an understanding between them—Liza always supplied her with the latest scandal rags, so that Rissa could know what to expect before she faced the Court each day. In return, she gave the maid first pick of her breakfast tray. The servants of the palace were fed well enough, but their food was plain and uninteresting and they almost never got anything sweet.

“Take what you like,” she said now, to Liza, as she always did. “I expect there are some lovely sweet buns there.”

“There are indeed. Thank you, my Lady.” Liza’s eyes went wide as she lifted the silver dome off the bread plate and plucked a large, flaky bun studded with plump, purple gooza berries and glazed with verbeena honey. She bobbed a little curtsy as she took a bite and her eyes rolled heavenward in rapture. “Oh, my Lady—it’s quite wonderful!” she exclaimed, when she had swallowed.