Page 36 of A Monarch's Fall

“I’ll do it,” I agreed.

“Wonderful.”

Chapter eight

Coven Reunions.

Percy Flores

Arvid had shown me his private bathroom through one of the doors in his suite and left me to shower while he found me more fitting clothing.

A fresh towel with new toiletries lay waiting beside the sink, and I realised that he had planned for our meeting and my showering needs in advance.

It felt uncomfortable showering in a man’s bathroom. It wasn’t unclean; it was something about knowing that this was his space that made me uneasy. His toothbrush was in the cup at the sink, his razor to the side, his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash combo sat on the shelf in the shower. I had stared at the bottle for far too long, trying to fathom how one product did so much. Was it magic? It made me grateful that he had procured separate products for me, including a new bar of lavender soap.

I had hung the towel on the heated towel rack before my shower, and it was warm and soothing when I exited. What he had forgotten was a comb for my hair. I had to detangle with my fingers, but I got the job done. Usually, showering helped reduce my stress, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to fix my damp hair after brushing my teeth, anxiety swirled within me.

What had I really agreed to with Arvid?

Was I spying? I guessed, yes, technically. He wanted to know what Lady Flores was up to.

Lady Flores.

It felt strange even to think the name.

My namesake?

My relative?

I had witching relatives.

It had never really occurred to me before. I never knew my mother or her family; she never mentioned them in any of her books, and Father never spoke of my mother’s family, only of my mother, and even then, as I thought of it, he didn’t speak of her in detail.

I knew she loved the sea as much as my father, that they loved to dance, to walk along the shore in the evenings, and that he found her to be the most beautiful woman in the world. He confessed to me that he still thought my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, even after he became serious with Rosemary.

We had gone out in a smaller boat together to talk, where he explained that he still loved my mother and would always love her, that his love for Rosemary was separate, beautiful in its own way, and it didn’t diminish what he and my mother had shared. I realised that to my father, loving Rosemary felt like betraying my mother and to appease his contradictory feelings, he felt the need to explain himself to me - to be absolved of his imagined wrongdoing. I made sure after that to welcome Rosemary intoour lives fully, with love, in the hope that it would assuage my father’s guilt.

I shook away the thought of my father, of Rosemary and of my brother, who surely had to have been born or very close to it.

I knew so very little of my mother.

I knew so very little of the Flores coven.

Did Father purposefully not speak of my mother’s family or her coven, or was he as in the dark as I was?

I made sure the towel was tightly wrapped around me before daring to open the bathroom door back into the study area of Arvid’s suite. Neatly folded and piled on the same armchair I had sat in during our conversation was clothing.

It was the same uniform I remembered Dylan and the others in the maze wearing. Underwear: plain, practical; a white tank top; a dark green jumper; and lighter brown khaki trousers. On the floor beside the armchair sat a pair of sturdy, ankle-supporting dark brown boots, with thick laces that would be difficult to rip or tear. I would only need the left boot for now.

I gathered the clothing and returned to the bathroom to change. When I exited the bathroom again, Arvid was standing by the door waiting for me.

“You look much better,” he greeted me.

“Thanks,” I said as I limped towards the armchair, where I had left my brace boot, worried that the interior fabric would become damp from the shower's condensation.

I sat down and began rolling up my left trouser leg.

“Allow me to help you,” he offered, walking towards me.