Serpents of Summer (Rage of Lions Book 5) by Matt Barron

Author:Matt Barron [Barron, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blade of Truth Publishing Company
Published: 2023-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

Amelia slept much better than she expected to and awoke when the light through her chamber window lit the room with shafts of gold. She had not realized how tiring she had found the rapid march from the south. It was also a relief to know she was safe from the marauding fey, a fact she felt ashamed to have to admit to herself. Her safety came at the cost of too many peoples’ lives and sufferings. That grim reflection banished the sleepiness from her mind, and she forced herself up in bed. From the bustling elsewhere in her apartments, she could hear Lady Spindle about her morning duties, readying clothes, jewelry, and hair dressings for the mistress’s day. Gone were the days when Matron Bettina ran her mistress’s chamber. The elderly lady-in-waiting was living a much quieter life, sleeping elsewhere in the duchess’s household these days. Looking about, Amelia could not see Lady Righteous, but she was more surprised to see Lady Dalflitch sitting at the chamber’s one table. Poised and straight backed, the raven-haired beauty was the figure of elegance she always was, but there was a pensive look on her face, and her features seemed somewhat drawn and pinched. For the first time since Amelia had met her, Dalflitch was showing signs of her age.

“Good morning, My Lady,” Amelia said as she swung her legs out of bed and found her ladies-in-waitings’ truckle still extended from under the bedframe. She reached down to put it back but found herself caught awkwardly half-standing on the lower mattress.

“Oh…your Grace…I…good morning,” Dalflitch stammered, uncharacteristically tongue tied, as she broke from her own reverie and quickly stood up to help put the truckle away. From the garderobe, Spindle appeared and was plainly alarmed to find her mistress wrestling with the furniture.

“We will do this, Your Grace,” the Lace Fang insisted, somehow managing to hand her mistress a morning robe to cover her linen slip while also working the truckle back into place under the duchess’s bed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I left it because I thought the noise would wake you.”

Amelia shook her head.

“It is no trouble, Ladies,” she said to them both, embarrassed for their embarrassment. At last, the simple if cumbersome chore was complete and Amelia pulled her robe over her shoulders. She made her way over to the table and took the chair opposite Dalflitch’s while Spindle returned to preparing her grace’s wardrobe for the day.

“Righteous has gone down to make sure the kitchen is ready with your breakfast meal, Your Grace,” the Fang said, explaining her partner’s absence. “She’ll like be back in a short piece. Matron Bettina has poked her head in once as well, but she said that she would be ready for whenever you summonsed her.”

“The days march on, whether we are ready for them or not,” Amelia said to herself and then tutted at her own thoughts. She was the only one in the room who had had the chance to sleep as late as she had.

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