What Was I Thinking?

(Gwen's POV)

The door to our room was barely closed when Sera shoved me.

It wasn't a gentle push. Both her palms hit my shoulders and I staggered backward until my hip struck the bedpost, and the pain shot straight up my side.

"What was that?" she hissed.

"Sera, I—"

"Don't 'Sera' me." Her voice was low and shaking with fury. "In front of the entire court, you threw yourself at the king like a kitchen maid at a stable boy. Did you think nobody would see?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"No, you were planning." She stalked toward me, "Let me guess. You saw his chest yesterday, and you thought a little hug, a little dirt, a little trembling, and he would take pity on you. You think you can seduce Xaden?"

My face burned so hot. I opened my mouth to tell her I'd only been relieved, that I'd thought I was going to die, that my arms had moved before my brain caught up.

But every word sounded like an excuse, and the truth was worse than any excuse, because she was right about one thing. I hadn't thought at all.

I looked down at my boots and said nothing.

"Nothing to say?" Sera laughed, short and cruel. "Of course not. Little mice never do."

A knock at the door saved me from answering, and two maids slipped in with folded bundles in their arms, bowing quickly.

"Commander Rhea sent these, miss," the younger one said, holding a pale blue dress out to me. "She said the seamstress took it in this afternoon, and it should fit now."

I touched the fabric with the tips of my fingers. It was soft and plain, and when I held it against myself I realized someone had actually measured it for me.

For the first time today, something made me feel happy. "Thank you," I whispered. "Please thank her for me."

"Of course, miss. And there's a hot bath that was prepared for you guys behind the screen."

Sera snatched her own bundle, silk of a deep green, and swept past me without a glance.

Behind the screen, a copper tub steamed beside a small fire, and I lowered myself into it with a groan.

The water was so hot that it stung my scraped palms, and the dirt and dried blood lifted off me in a thin pink cloud. I stared at it, my knees pulled to my chest, and felt every humiliating minute of the day rolling back over me.

I hugged him. I hugged the king, in front of everyone, in a deer-bloody tunic, and then I fell on my knees and told him I'd never do it again.

I pressed my wet hands against my face. "Stupid," I whispered into my palms. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

He'd threatened to throw me in the cells for it. One hug, and his voice had gone so cold that the whole hall seemed to drop a few degrees. And I needed to kiss that man three times before two years were up, when I couldn't even touch his sleeve without being threatened.

I peeled off my left glove and stared at the mark. It had crept another thin line toward my elbow, black as ink against my skin, and I ran my thumb along it.

My right hand tingled faintly. I didn't know why, so I scrubbed it harder, until the skin was almost red.

"Are you drowning back there, or merely washing off your dignity?" Sera's voice floated over the screen.

"I'm almost done."

"Take your time. You've got plenty of dirt to remove." I heard the rustle of silk. "Though I doubt even a hundred baths would help the king forget what he saw."

I said nothing and reached for a towel.

"I mean it, you know. A girl in a hunting tunic, dripping with deer blood, clinging to a king. I've seen street dogs with more dignity."

"Sera."

"What?"

"Please stop."

"Why? Is it bothering you?" Her voice turned sweet. "Don't worry, I'll stop when you're sent home."

I dried quickly and pulled on the blue dress, which fit perfectly, and braided my damp hair with fingers that wouldn't stop trembling.

When I came out from behind the screen, Sera was sitting on the edge of the bed in her green silk, brushing her hair with long, slow strokes, and she looked up at me with a smile that never reached her eyes.

"Lovely," she said. "Now you look like you might actually belong at a wedding. Someone else's, of course."

"I'm not going to argue with you tonight."

"How convenient." She went on brushing. "Do you know what the other girls are saying? That you must have bribed someone at the hunt. That a white deer doesn't just walk into a girl's arrow."

"I didn't bribe anyone."

"Then it was luck, which is worse, because luck runs out." She set down the brush. "And when it does, I'll be there. Smiling."

I climbed onto the bed because my legs wouldn't hold me any longer, and sat against the pillows with my hands clasped tightly over the glove.

Sera's voice kept going, soft and venomous, about the girls who'd been sent home, about how a king doesn't marry a girl who throws herself at him, about how my mother must be so proud. I tried to listen. I tried to think of a reply.

But the bed was warm, the fire popped, and my body, which had hauled a deer through half a forest that morning and been frightened half to death by a king, gave out.

The last thing I heard was her voice saying, "And don't think I've forgotten about the mat."

The bell woke me…

I jerked upright, disoriented, with my heart thumping and the room dark except for the glow of the fire. My mouth was dry. Sera stood by the door in her green silk, impatiently tapping one foot.

"Dinner," she said. "Try to look presentable. Though I suppose that's asking a great deal."

I followed her down the corridor with my sleep-heavy eyes and my hair half-fallen from its braid.

The dining hall shone with candles, and the long table was set with roast meats and bread and bowls of steaming soup. The five other girls were already seated, and every head turned toward me as I entered.

The whispers started immediately.

"That's her."

"The one who hugged him."

"Look at her, she's still wearing that filthy glove.”

I slid into the nearest empty seat, kept my chin down, and reached for my spoon. My face was burning again.

I stirred the soup without tasting it, and tried not to hear the little hiss of voices behind my back, or the soft clink of cutlery.

‘Eat,’ I told myself. ‘Just eat. Don't look up.’

A shadow fell across my shoulder and I glanced up.

It was the girl who'd caught the boar, the one with the lowest neckline and the most exposing cleavage in the entire hall, she was leaning over my chair with a slow, careless smile, reaching across me for something at the center of the table.

Her breast struck my shoulder, hard, and I lurched sideways, my spoon clattering into the bowl.

She straightened and lifted a long silver knife from the table, turning it between her fingers.

"Oops!" she said brightly. "I wanted to pick a knife."