Princess of Dorsa by Eliza Andrews

Author:Eliza Andrews [Andrews, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: series, Fantasy, Romance, Royalty
Published: 2018-10-14T23:00:00+00:00

24

By the time Tasia finished sewing closed Joslyn’s abdomen and binding it with clean white gauze from her box, the survivors of the attack had put out the fires, recovered the horses and pack animals, and bandaged the wounded.

It was darker and colder now with the two tents extinguished, and the night’s foreign sounds seemed stranger than they had before. A kind of muted disquiet took over the camp, with men whispering and speaking in low voices to one another rather than speaking at a normal volume. A woman sobbed somewhere, probably the washer woman or her daughter. A solemnity hung like a shroud over those who had survived. Despite the fact that they had emerged from the battle victorious, all those who remained nevertheless recognized that, somehow, they had also lost.

Tasia could almost taste the mood. It had a sour, bitter taste — sharp and unpleasant like a piece of fruit that had just begun to turn. The mood was a poison, she knew, and if it didn’t dissipate it would sicken the camp’s survivors.

She left Joslyn sitting on the ground, still in the same place where she had fallen, while she retrieved a fresh tunic from the guard’s canvas bag of belongings. As she rifled through the bag, she marveled at the woman’s simplicity. The canvas bag was all the guard had brought with her — it was filled with a few tunics, a few trousers, spare undergarments, and a few tools to mend weapons, armor, and her own body. That was all.

Tasia, by comparison, had brought no fewer than three large trunks with her, filled with gowns and traveling clothes for every occasion, enough to keep the washer woman busy each day. A separate, smaller box was nestled inside one of the larger boxes with nothing but Tasia’s jewelry and face powders. Another small box held her bath salts, soaps, and perfumes — all of which she’d barely had occasion to use.

Joslyn was sitting straighter by the time Tasia returned to her, cleaning the blood off one of her swords with the ruined linen shirt.

“Here,” Tasia said, showing Joslyn a clean tunic. The guard reached for it. “No, I don’t want you pulling out your stitches. I’ll help you.”

It took the two of them a few minutes, but they managed to get Joslyn’s tunic on without too much pain.

Tasia looked for a place to sit down without getting dirty, found none, and squatted next to the guard.

“So,” she said. “Who were they — the men who attacked us?”

Joslyn shook her head with a frown. “I think they — ”

“Princess!” someone called.

Tasia turned to see an ash-smudged Norix waddling towards her as quickly as he could. Like the Princess, the old Wise Man was in his sleeping gown and bare-footed. Also like the Princess, he was covered in dirt, but also smudged with ash. Two bedraggled soldiers walked on either side of him.

“Thank the Mother Moon you’re alive!” he exclaimed when he reached her.

That was how Tasia knew just how upset Norix was — he had let slip a Mother Moon.

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