A Sprinkle of Stardust

Chapter 10 - Peppermint

"Excuse me."

For a moment, Nash thought the night had developed a voice, smooth and musical, but it was just Lyrani.

Nash and Lady Trelle stepped apart to let her pass between them. The shadows trailed after her as she unlocked the door and held it open.

Lady Trelle entered first, gliding in that strange way noblewomen had of moving. Her silver moonlight dress gleamed in the soft, intimate firelight.

The fabric looked similar to that of the dress Lyrani wore, but Lady Trelle's gown was more extravagant, from the straps that came off her pale shoulders to the full skirt that became one with the moon when she basked in its beams.

"Thank you." Nash entered the apartment after Lady Trelle.

Lyrani nodded, unsmiling, then locked the door behind them.

As Lady Trelle led Nash to the table and chairs by the window and invited him to sit down, Lyrani set a kettle to boil.

Crouching in front of the fire in her moonlight gown while stoking the flames, Lyrani looked a vision, one Nash couldn't look away from even when Lady Trelle spoke.

"You know where to find the herbs, don't you, Lyrani?" Lady Trelle undid the buckles on her stilettos.

"Yes, my lady." Lyrani kept her gaze on the fire.

Nash studied the curve of her cheek, the way a rebellious lock of her hair fell over her eye. He had seen her somewhere before. But where?

"Don't mind me, Your Majesty. I know it's improper to be barefoot in such esteemed company, but my feet are exhausted." Lady Trelle kicked off her shoes. Her red nails flashed as she stretched out her toes.

"Not a problem, my lady. I would rather you be comfortable than proper."

Lady Trelle beamed at Nash. He had said the right thing.

"Lyrani, brew me some chamomile tea, will you?" Lady Trelle leaned back in her seat.

"Of course. I'll be right back." Lyrani disappeared down the stairs, her heels clicking against the stairs in a slow, arduous rhythm that spoke of pain even as her mouth made no complaint.

Heeled shoes looked like instruments of torture. Nash didn't understand why women wore them.

Under the table, Lady Trelle's warm hand rested on Nash's knee, demanding his attention.

"So," she said, her scarlet lips parting in a perfect smile, "tell me something I don't know about Your Majesty."

Nash grinned back, settling into the version of him he could let Lady Trelle see—a friendly, charming king with no worries and nothing to hide.

"I wouldn't know where to start." Nash mimicked her flirtatious tone.

Something sparked in Lady Trelle's eyes. Before she could speak, Lyrani returned from downstairs with a cloth bag swinging at her side.

"Some rosemary and sage should ease King Nash's headache," said Lady Trelle. "If there's peppermint, do add it."

"Of course, my lady."

With slow, uncertain fingers, Lyrani separated the leaves from their stalks and dropped them into a cup. She hobbled to the fire and removed the kettle from the bar from which it hung above the flame, wincing as she did so.

Nash spoke without thinking. "You should take your shoes off."

Lyrani looked at him. Her eyes widened when she realised he was talking to her.