Prince of Cats - Tasha Black Page 0,24
went through her at the thought that they were about to take Kieran from her.
“His Majesty’s nurse will attend to him, on the Prince Father’s orders,” the guard called out.
“I’ll have them ready in a jiffy,” Ruthyr told him.
Kieran let out a thunderous burp and then laughed.
The door closed.
“Well, the water’s not warm, but it’s the best we have,” Ruthyr said. “You bathe in the tub, I’ll wipe down the child. We have suitable clothing for each of you.”
Piper handed over Kieran, who chuckled at Ruthyr’s smiling face.
She bathed herself as quickly as she could, then looked at the clothing on the bed. There were so many items that it was hard to imagine which went on first.
“Come child, I’ll help you,” Ruthyr said, placing Kieran down in his cradle. He wore a comfortingly simple white nightgown and bonnet.
After ten solid minutes of fighting with the undergarments, petticoat and dress, Ruthyr stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“Ah, yes, lovely,” she said to herself. “Even in this simple getup, your good breeding shows.”
If this was considered simple, Piper didn’t want to think about the alternatives.
“Uh, thanks,” she said, wondering if Ruthyr was complimenting her good posture or her wide hips.
Ruthyr handed her the baby and chased her toward the door.
“Remember,” Ruthyr whispered to her breathlessly. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t argue when Her Majesty takes the child, don’t give yourself away.”
Piper found herself in the hallway, where the solider who had barked orders in the doorway stood waiting. Kieran clung to her neck, as if he could read her fear.
“This way,” the soldier said, taking off so quickly down the long corridor that Piper had to trot to keep up.
The guard, at least, clearly had no idea she was anything more than a wet nurse.
At last they reached a set of double doors, guarded by two more uniformed men. They threw open the doors at Piper and Kieran’s approach, releasing the sounds of great celebration.
Breathe, Piper, just breathe, she reminded herself.
She tottered in the doorway, momentarily astounded by the number of people, the strange food smells, the bright torches.
“Walk to the head of the table,” the guard leaned down kindly to tell her. “Let the baby’s mother take him, and step back but be ready to retrieve him.”
“Th… yes,” she said, remembering at the last moment not to thank him. “I will.”
She walked as calmly and steadily as she could past the party guests. Though they were dressed more simply at the lower end of the table, the people were all peculiarly beautiful.
The women were delicate of feature and the men were broad shouldered, in spite of their diversity of hair color, complexion and even fashion.
At the head of the table, sat a regal-looking older man, who she assumed must be the king. He didn’t seem to be entirely aware of what was going on, but he wore a wide smile, and even at his advanced age, his handsome features were still quite striking. His resemblance to Killian was clear.
She wondered suddenly if Kieran would be blessed with fae good looks.
Piper also spotted Killian’s brother, Heath, sitting next to a woman who’s cold beauty stood in stark contrast to her kind eyes. Heath didn’t offer Piper any acknowledgment, but she’d expected as much, since he wasn’t supposed to know her. Still, it was nice to see any friendly faces.
She spotted Killian, who barely spared her an inscrutable glance before turning back to whisper something to his father.
As Piper approached the head of the table, the room grew quieter, all conversation dimming to a hush of whispers.
Killian stood in a place of honor at his father’s side, looking resplendent in green. And beside him a woman in pale blue gown that made Piper wonder how many man-hours were spent getting her into it. She had the perfect, chiseled beauty of an ice sculpture, with less warmth.
Wynter.
The princess gazed so sternly at her that Piper almost forgot to take another step.
She doesn’t know. She can’t know…
No.
She wasn’t paying any attention to Piper at all. She was gazing sternly at Kieran, the way a lioness might consider a gazelle.
Piper felt her heart in her mouth.
I will not hand my son to that woman.
But she had to. If she didn’t, he would be in far worse danger. They both would.
Kieran clung to her, as if he could read her mind. To his credit, he did not whimper or cry.
At last Piper reached the woman in the pale blue gown.
The woman looked down her nose