Chapter 181: Cactus Club

Still having no idea what the plans were for the day, Alistair and I were up early, prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, but we were the only ones. We had breakfast in the dining room, a buffet that was far more comfortable than the formal dinner had been, but aside from a handful of other guests, we were the only ones there. Aedan stumbled down as we were finishing up, flushing and changing the subject when we asked about Zevran; it made me want to ask inappropriate questions about what sort of bondage he had Zevran tied up in, until I realised I probably didn’t want to know the answer.

Fergus strolled in a while later, dressed informally and clearly not prepared to leave any time soon. He took some fruit from the buffet and then sat down silently, staring at it rather than eating.

“Your Grace?” I wondered if I’d ever feel comfortable calling him by his name, but doubted it. Even his brother is using his title now; I wonder if anyone ever says his name anymore? “I was wondering when we will be leaving?”

He frowned, but I didn’t get the impression he was angry with me, for once. “I don’t ... know.” He sighed and took a bite. “We will discuss it later – not here.”

I nodded, confused, but it wasn’t long before he pushed away his plate and stood. “Come to my room.”

I rolled my eyes at the imperious command, but got up anyway. We followed him silently, taking seats in the little sitting room he’d been assigned.

Fergus cleared his throat. “It would seem we need ... approval, to go to Lhanbyrde.”

I raised one eyebrow, head tilting in confusion. “Approval?”

He sighed. “This inn is apparently owned by the sanctuary, and Hetty and Dom work for them. The only boat that is permitted to dock at Lhanbyrde leaves from here, and we won’t be allowed to board until Hetty is convinced we’re not a threat.”

“A threat? To whom?” Alistair looked outraged.

Fergus finally sat down, almost collapsing in a comfortable armchair. “To Lhanbyrde and the other ... guests. Apparently, the facility is extremely protective of their privacy, and that of the clients who live there. They risk a lot if the Chantry gets wind of them, and because some of their clients and families are rather important people, there’s been problems in the past. So, no one travels to Lhanbyrde until Hetty says so. And as we’re travelling using a fake name, and she can’t confirm which client we’re going there to see...”

We all exchanged glances. I finally asked, “Do you think she knows who we are, really? I mean, if Ena could figure it out ... Hetty did guess rather uncannily which of us would be staying in the main building and which were guards.”

Aedan twitched, and I thought he might be suppressing a laugh. “That part isn’t hard to figure out.” When I frowned, he continued, “White teeth, clean hair, unblemished skin ... we don’t look like mercenaries, dear sister. Not once the helmets come off, anyway. You do remember Duncan saying you could never pass as a commoner, right?”

My mouth fell open in shock. “I ... but ... what?” I couldn’t say I’d never noticed the teeth and hair – without dentists and health care and adequate nutrition, it was awful what happened to the human body. I’d just never realised it was so noticeable that I was different. “I thought he just meant my attitude!”

While I was stuttering, Zevran crept in; I noticed he avoided eye contact with all of us, just leaning against the wall by the door and staring at the plush carpet thoughtfully. I got up and went over to him, leaning against the wall and putting my head on his shoulder. “What do you think, Zev? Does Hetty know who we are?”

He shuffled, looking a bit awkward, but eventually relaxed and nudged me teasingly. “I have no doubt tales of the beautiful new Fereldan princess have travelled well beyond the country you call home, cara mia, but I doubt they’ve reached the shores of Llomerryn, yes?”

I flushed and giggled, poking him indignantly. “That’s not what I meant!” I sighed. “Alright so, if she doesn’t know who we are, we should just ... tell her, yes?” I rolled my eyes at picking up Zevran’s quirks of speech. “If she’s associated with Lhanbyrde, I’m sure she knows how to keep a secret.”

Fergus just looked at me, not saying a word, and after a minute I flushed. “So, that’s a no, then?”

He sat back, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Well, we could. Consider: we start with who I am – a Teyrn whose sister is on the island. Then Aedan, same story. But tell me, Princess, what are we supposed to say about you? That you ‘might’ be that same sister we’re here to see, but somehow magically transported off the island? That you’re an imposter and we’re here to learn the truth? How do we justify a Prince and a Steward, whose relationship to Lhanbyrde we can’t explain?”

I slumped, thinking about it. It seemed, surrounded by friends and family as I usually was, I always forgot not only how messed up my history was – and how few people we could confide in about it – but also how untrusting Fergus was. It hit me like a punch to the gut, and I crossed my arms in front of me as if that would somehow shield me from his disdain.

I felt Zevran put his arm over my shoulders protectively, just as Alistair leaped from his seat to step between me and my liege lord, and I heard Aedan growl like a wild animal of some sort.

“You made her come here,” Aedan shouted, just as Alistair took me in his arms. “You told her about this place when I specifically asked you not to. You made her feel insecure, made her want to prove herself when she doesn’t need to. Don’t you dare blame her! You’re the one who made this happen – you figure out how to fix it. Your Grace,” he spat.

Turning towards the door, the three men who loved me herded me in front of them, but I stopped them before we reached the hallway.

I didn’t even look at Fergus as I spoke. “If you trust her ... just tell them that because your parents died without telling anyone about this, and you only just found out about Elissa, it’s of great import to the Crown to know what’s happening on Lhanbyrde. Tell her Cailan sent Alistair as a royal envoy, or something. Don’t mention me at all. I’m just a wife, here because I can’t bear to be separated from my husband.”

I took a breath, lifted my chin, and stepped out into the hallway, feeling the men follow behind me, hearing the door slam shut behind us. I didn’t cry; for possibly the first time in my life, it felt like I couldn’t. I was so angry and hurt that my emotions just went ... numb.

“Hetty mentioned picnics, right? Anyone else want to get out of here, at least for a while?” I could have kissed Alistair – and so I did.

In the end we did have a picnic, just the four of us – with two guards watching from a little distance away. We settled onto a blanket, with a large basket packed with food and wine in the center. We didn’t talk much, just sitting quietly and watching the river flow past, the birds flying overhead, and white fluffy clouds cross the sky. The weather was warm, like Ferelden in the summer, and it felt quite luxurious to be relaxing outside without multiple layers and warmth runes.

Alistair had sprawled out after we ate, his head in my lap, and I stroked my fingers through his hair as I tried not to think about Fergus, or Lhanbyrde, or the Crows... Denial is a good thing. We stayed out all afternoon, only going back inside in time to get ready for dinner.

I contemplated feigning an illness to avoid Fergus, but I couldn’t stand giving him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. Damn my pride! I was stressing about what I’d wear – even fashion-oblivious me knew wearing the same dress to dinner two nights in a row was a no-no – only to find a large garment bag draped across the back of the couch when I got to the room I shared with Alistair. I peeked inside to see a gorgeous gown made of turquoise silk, with a sweetheart neckline and poufy layered skirts.

I gasped, and Alistair came up behind me curiously. He whistled as I pulled the dress out to admire it. “Where’d that come from?”

We both looked, but there wasn’t a note anywhere; I had no way of knowing who’d sent the dress. I’d have credited Aedan, except I’d been with him all afternoon – and Zevran too; who else would buy me a dress to save me from the embarrassment of not having anything appropriate to wear?

I struggled not to hope it could be some sort of indirect apology from Fergus. He’d never done anything to indicate he was capable of something like that when it came to me, but I honestly couldn’t come up with any other ideas.

Regardless, I had little choice; I had to go to supper, and I had nothing else to wear. I stripped and slipped into the gorgeous silk, and Alistair helped me lace up the back before going to get dressed himself. It fit me perfectly, emphasizing my few curves, propping up my cleavage enticingly. It was probably the most expensive dress I’d ever worn, and I gazed at myself in the full-length mirror in shock. Now I wish I had brought Maeve to do my hair and makeup. I was embarrassed to admit I was the kind of woman who needed servants. I sighed tied my hair up into a simple braid, leaving a few curly tendrils to fall around my face. I’d just finished when Alistair came down the spiral stairs dressed in his own formal clothes.

He came up behind me so we could both see in the mirror. He looked dashing, as always; so tall, so broad, with a cheeky grin and mischievous, glinting eyes – and the scar giving him just a hint of danger, as I’d told him.

He kissed my cheek and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Maker’s breath.” I could feel his hard chest pressed against my back – and something else that was hard too. “You’re exquisite.”

His lips made it to my neck and I whimpered. “You’d better stop now, or this dress will go to waste – we’ll never make it to supper.”

He groaned and pulled himself away, clearly reluctant. “Fine. But you’d better make it up to me later.” He held out his hand, and I took it with an impish grin.

Supper was far more enjoyable than I’d predicted; unlike me, apparently Fergus had no qualms about pretending to be unwell, and he didn’t join us. I tried not to cheer out loud, even as I kicked my feet happily under the table. Instead, there were just six of us – Avanna had borrowed another dress, looking lovely, and her counterpart, Charles, wore the same clothes as the night before – and everyone gushed in surprise about my gown, answering the question of whether my brother or his boyfriend were responsible, but leaving my mysterious benefactor a mystery.

When we’d finished another elaborate meal, Hetty approached us before we excused ourselves for the evening.

“Oh, your Highness, I just knew that colour would look ravishing on you.” She walked around me, smiling broadly.

“Oh, thank you so much!” I was shocked; the idea that the dress had been provided by the elegant innkeeper had never occurred to me. “It’s so beautiful. Should I ... I mean, how should I return it to you?”

She chuckled, the sound rich and sophisticated. Even her laugh is graceful; I think I hate her. “No, no, please, it isn’t a loan; it is my gift to you. I had no idea I had royalty staying under my roof, and it’s the least I can do to make up for my lack of manners.”

It sounded sincere, but as always when reminded of my relationship to the Crown, I winced. Before I could respond, though, she turned and curtsied to Alistair, who bowed awkwardly before offering her his hand up. “No wonder she doesn’t let you out of her sight, though, your Highness, with those shoulders.”

Alistair flushed beetroot red, and I took an annoyed breath – but she was gone again, now hanging off Aedan’s arm. The plastic smile she wore turned to something a little bit more genuine, and she squeezed him noticeably. “My Lord ... I am so sorry for your loss. I should have realised at once who you were – you resemble your papa as a younger man so much, it’s uncanny.” I saw her gaze pass over Zevran, and then stop on me speculatively. Her forehead wrinkled with a brief frown, but then it was gone again leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined it. Aedan muttered some sort of thanks, which I barely listened to.