Chapter Text
The attendants escorted them up familiar stairs to the chambers reserved for guests of status. Martha and Maira were given one to share, and each of the former generals was given a room. Cinn was led to the royal apartment — the suite of chambers that had become his after his father died.
He began to protest as they opened the large oak door, expecting that the royal apartments would be occupied by Reinold’s family and their things, but the room was a perfect picture of how he had left it. As if he had never been gone.
“It has been unused, sire, it is yours.” The attendant bowed. “Servants will tend to your bath soon.”
Then the door shut and he was alone.
He was home.
He wanted to flee, to leave these walls behind and return to the road and woods.
Dizziness struck him again, his brain filling with the familiar fog. He collapsed to sit on the wooden floor, back against the foot of the bed and forehead against his knees.
Maira, Martha, Akon, the rest… it was bad enough when the two women had been captured in the woods, but seeing them bound, gagged, forced to kneel as he had been… a sob broke from him.
He fought the tears. He was back now. Had to hold it together.
They were safe. No one would bind any of them like that again.
And Loys. The boy. The one who survived that horrible day. He was safe. Thriving.
Cinn forced himself to breathe.
Someone rapped on the door, and he stood. Servants entered, several carrying steaming buckets of water. They headed for his bathchamber and began to fill the large tub that stood within. Two approached him directly and bowed, then reached to disrobe him. He froze, closing his eyes and trying to breathe.
The fabric of his tunic was pulled over his head. Panic clawed at his throat. He was back— No. Opening his eyes, he focused on the room. The carved wood above the door. He could focus there. The servants gasped as they saw the extent of his scars. Shame heated his face.
Fingers brushed against the mass of overlapping lines on his back and he flinched away. “No!”
Eyes wide, the young man stepped back and bowed again. “Forgive me, my lord.”
Cinn shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He removed the rest of his clothing himself and walked to the bath. Having servants tend him for dressing and bath was normal. He had grown up with this. Why did their eyes and hands feel so invasive now?
Trying to ignore them, he lowered himself into the bath. Hot, herb laden water relaxed his muscles and he sighed in delight. Then something touched his neck.
He screamed, lashing out at the touch. His hand connected with a servant. The man held a rag and his eyes were wide with shock. More shame shot through Cinn.Forcing himself to calm down, he took a deep breath.
“Forgive me, I… perhaps I should bathe myself.”
“Sire, you should not have to…”
He cut the man off with a look. “Please. Leave me the rags and soap. It… it is not your fault.”
Confused but respectful, the servants bowed and departed, leaving Cinn to his bath.
Leaning his head against the rim of the tub, he closed his eyes and let the tears flow. How long would it take to get back to normal? He had to.
A few rooms away, Maira lay in her own warm bath, reveling in the feeling of being clean. Her mother was in a second tub nearby, laying back against the rim with her eyes closed. They’d shooed off the servants — neither of them were used to other people bathing them and just wanted to relax.
The water stung her chafed wrists slightly. She lifted one hand towards her face without realizing she was doing it. The gag had tasted horrible, the gritty linen dry and rough against her tongue and face.
Memories of the first time she had seen Cinn floated to the surface again. He had been bound and gagged then too. She hoped he would be alright — the way he had panicked when they unbound him…
Maira rubbed her wrists again. It was strange, to know what it felt like. Horrible, and yet knowing she had shared that horrible experience with Cinn was somehow comforting. As if perhaps knowing could help her be there for him better.
When they had been taken before the king here, she had almost wondered if they would suffer a fate like Cinn had. Could she have been as brave as him?
She doubted it. Maybe she would never know.
Enough. She shook her head, clearing it of those thoughts.
Martha opened her eyes and looked over. “We made it, kid.”
Maira smiled back at her. “We did.”
“I was afraid…” She hesitated, then resumed. “I had worried they would see us as enemies and for a moment there I feared the worst had happened. But we chose right, trusting Cinn.”
“Did you consider leaving before, finding a job on a farm? I know we both decided to come, but…”
Martha chuckled softly. “I did. But I suppose I thought that if we could be seen as enemies, better to have the backing of someone who had been important here and would likely be seen as a hero.”
“Me too.” Maira’s lips quirked and she gave her mother a teasing look. “And of course, Akon was coming all the way as well.”
A blush immediately colored her mother’s tan skin.
Maira laughed. “I knew it!”
“He… he seems kind, and he listens, you know?” Martha’s tone grew solemn. “He respects me, or he has thus far. Not like…”
“He does.” She reached out her hand and her mother took it. “As long as he continues, I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”
Martha’s eyes glistened with tears. “You’re still my heart, no matter what. You know that, right?”
“And you mine.”
When the sun had just passed its zenith, the six travelers were summoned to the midday feast.
Servants brought a fine tunic of royal blue for Cinn to wear. Having faced his dismissal earlier, they were hesitant, but he allowed them to summon the castle barber to trim his hair, now grown out again from weeks on the road.
The barber reached for a razor to deal with the mess of a beard that covered Cinn’s jaw, but the sight of metal approaching his face was too much. Reflexively, Cinn grabbed the man’s wrist. The servant froze.
He released the man, shame heating his cheeks. “Forgive me, I… I am sorry…”
“All is well, sire, you need not apologize. Would it be better if I were to trim it only?”
Tightly, Cinn nodded. His knuckles turned white with gripping the vanity, but he forced himself to remain still as the barber used small shears to trim the overgrown beard. He longed to have his face smooth again but even the slightest touch of the scissors brushing his skin made him want to scream. Would he ever be able to be shaven again?
Memory of Maira trimming his hair and beard flashed through his mind and he forced it away. The hands that had removed his cruel collar were the only ones that felt safe, but he could not ask her to attend him as a servant.
Finally, the ordeal was over.
His hair and beard now trimmed and styled, he felt more human. Next, clothing. He already wore a simple tunic that had been provided after his bath, but now he allowed the servants to dress him in the fine tunic that would go over it.
Cloth closed around his neck. High collars had come into fashion, it seemed. He couldn’t breathe. He pulled away from the hands reaching to fasten the laces.
Met with confusion, he stammered, “Are… are there any tunics of an older fashion? I… am not used to this style.”
The servants bowed, glancing at each other with furrowed brows, but soon returned with different clothing. Ashamed of his weakness but grateful to be free of the torturous feeling, Cinn thanked them and hurried to attend the meal for which he was now late. The former generals had waited for him, escorting him as an honor guard.
They too had been provided with fine clothing, lighter blue tunics in the high-collared fashion.
The great hall was laid out for the feast. At the far end sat the high table, raised on a dais. Though the floor was straw-strewn rather than gleaming marble, the sight of the dais as Akon and the others escorted him towards it nearly froze him in his tracks. He forced himself to keep moving but could not stop his eyes from searching the floor for a ring to which a chain could attach. There was none.
Cinn forced his expression to stay neutral as he took the offered seat at Reinold’s right hand. Maira and Martha were seated next to him, dressed in matching gowns of a pale blue, and the generals took seats on the other side of the table.
Music stopped as Reinold stood, spreading his arms. “As I am certain the rumors have reached the ears of most here, our beloved king has come back to us! Cinn yet lives, and as the empire has crumbled, we are strengthened by his return.”
All the gathered household roared, standing and cheering with full voices. Cinn rose and bowed to them, unable to find words.
Questions began to pile upon each other as the cheering slowed. What had happened? How had he returned? Would he take the throne?
Reinold raised his hands for quiet. “All questions shall be answered in time. For now, we shall let him rest and recover from the long journey.”
That seemed to satisfy them for the moment, though the hall buzzed with murmuring and speculation.
Music resumed. Food and wine were brought, filling their plates with roasted fish and fresh-baked bread. The cupbearer’s hand shook as he poured their wine, unable to stop staring at Cinn. Dark droplets splashed to the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The echo of the falling liquid drowned out the hall in Cinn’s ears. His body screamed at him to kneel, to lap it up or face humiliation and pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the table with both hands, forcing himself to remain seated.
Breathe in, breathe out.
A familiar mantra, but it helped.
Even so, the rest of the meal passed in a blur. The food was salty and rich, smelling of spices and home, but it overwhelmed him. He could not eat much. By the time it was over, he wanted only to hide from everyone and sleep.