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S he didn’t even protest his staying in the chamber.

Payne felt as if he had to guard against Astria slipping from the window or otherwise trying to escape, so he planted himself by the entry of the rented chamber at the Black Cock and, facing the door, listened to the lady splash about in her bath behind him, assisted by Margit.

Given the fact that Margit had three daughters, she knew a little something about baths and women in general.

When Payne brought Astria in from the cold house, Margit had been in the kitchens and had seen them enter.

Payne had asked for a bath and soap and any spare clothing Margit might have.

Fortunately, she was the right person to ask, because in little time, a copper tub, round and with high sides, had been brought into the only chamber they had left.

It was a tiny chamber, with a little bed, and an even smaller window for ventilation, but it was suitable.

The bath went in and so did the lady.

Stripped of her filthy clothing by Margit, Astria plunged into the hot water and gladly so.

This was the first moment in five months that she’d felt human, and she wasn’t going to risk it with an escape attempt.

Margit had soap that smelled of lavender and rosemary, and she proceeded to scrub Astria from head to toe, but not before she tried to chase Payne out of the chamber.

It wasn’t proper for him to be there, but Payne wouldn’t budge.

The lady was a prisoner and that was all there was to it.

He wasn’t leaving.

More scrubbing and rinsing went on. All he could hear was the splashing and Astria’s occasional grunting when Margit scrubbed too hard. More servants moved in and out of the chamber, serving wenches that Payne recognized, and they brought things like flat ale for hair washing and towels and combs.

As Margit worked, Astria ate whatever the woman put in front of her.

Bread and butter, a stew of beef and carrots, and other things.

Crumbs fell in the bathwater, but Astria didn’t care.

She was feeling clean and normal again, not hunted and persecuted, and such a simple thing as a bath did wonders for her state of mind.

Even if it wasn’t exactly a private experience.

Perhaps it was odd that a princess royal bathe with a man who was not her husband in the chamber, but it was no odder than the course her entire life had taken since that fateful day Bloody Maude came into her life.

Many things were odd these days. Astria didn’t recognize who she’d become, that was the truth, and the bath had done more than wash away the dirt.

It had washed away the cobwebs in her mind, cobwebs of unrealistic expectations of her captivity.

There were a few things she was going to have to face.

She was still thinking of those things when Margit finished rinsing the dirt off her and pulled her out of the bath.

Then she went to work drying her vigorously with a big towel.

Meanwhile, the only clean garment Margit had come up with was a simple shift and light woolen garment her daughters had outgrown.

Astria was thin from months of stress and bad nutrition, so the shift and undyed garment with long sleeves and a square neck went on easily.

Margit cinched up the ties on the side, trying to make the dress fit, but Astria was just too skinny.

Once she finished with the dress and began drying the woman’s hair with the towel, she glanced at Payne, sitting back by the door.

“This lass needs to be fed, Payne,” she said as if it were a dire situation.

“I don’t know what her circumstances are, or why she’s here, but I am telling you that she needs food, and lots of it, or she is going to become very ill.

If you don’t want to see such a thing happen, then you must take better care of her. ”

In the chair, Payne sighed heavily. “May I turn around now?”

Margit finished toweling her hair and pulled Astria into the nearest chair.

“Aye,” she said, taking out a wooden comb.

“Are you hearing me? This young woman needs good food and rest. She’s like bones with skin.

And she has bruising over her body. That’s not like you lads at Blackchurch to thrash a woman. ”

“That is because we dinna,” Payne said as he turned his chair around to face the chamber. “She came with the pirates and…”

His voice trailed off when he got a good look at Astria.

Margit had been combing her damp hair, but when the woman moved aside, Payne saw what Princess Maria Astria Julia truly looked like.

Without the filthy clothing, the dirt covering her face and hair, and a hostile expression on her face, it was as if the sun had just emerged from behind the clouds.

She was breathtaking.

Her hair was a shiny blonde color—he could see it in the weak light of the hearth and the tapers.

It was straight and heavy, but it glittered like gold.

The oval face was still there, but it was clean now, displaying a well-shaped nose, glorious blue eyes, and those long, long lashes.

Her mouth was clean, revealing full lips that were quite beautiful.

She was wearing something Margit had brought for her, a colorless dress that was simple in construction, but even Payne could see that it was too big for her.

Her collarbone was quite prominent, as was her jawline.

She had all the signs of a woman who hadn’t eaten much as of late, and that realization created a spark of anger in him.

Anger with Astria for being belligerent and violent, anger with his mother for starving the woman because of it.

It was no wonder Astria was behaving like an animal.

“Pirates,” Margit scoffed in disgust. “No wonder she is the way she is. Payne, can you keep her here for a few days? Away from them? I’ll feed her all she can eat if you do.”

Payne nodded. “I can keep her here as long as needed,” he said. “Ye’re kind, Margit. I’ll not forget it.”

Margit was vigorously combing the blond hair that was drying in the heat from the fire. “Poor lass,” she said. “To have been treated so unkindly. Payne, there should be a serving wench right outside the door. Send her for more food and drink.”

Payne stood up and stuck his head out of the chamber, calling to the nearest wench, who happened to be over in the common room, in his line of sight. He waved her over and gave her instructions, and she headed off to the kitchens. Payne returned to the chamber, quietly shutting the door.

“I’ll see what I can find for her to sleep in,” Margit said, now braiding Astria’s slightly damp hair. “My youngest married a rich merchant, you know. He bought her all new things when they married, so I still have her old clothing here. I’ll see if I can find more serviceable things for the lady.”

“She’s a princess, Margit,” Payne said quietly, his gaze lingering on Astria. “She’s not any lady, but a princess. She’s royalty. And we’ll treat her with all due respect.”

Margit turned to him, surprised, before looking at the head of the woman whose hair she was plaiting. “I see,” she said, bewilderment in her tone. “A proper princess will have anything I can provide for her, then.”

She tied off the two long blonde braids she’d made before reaching down to pick up the damp towels from the floor.

Hustling over to the door, she disappeared for a moment before returning with two servants, who emptied the tepid bathwater before hauling the tub out of the chamber.

That left Payne alone with Astria, who had, so far, not moved a muscle.

She simply sat by the hearth where Margit had put her, staring into the flames.

Even when the food came and it was put on a small table for her, she seemed to be moving stiffly, as if she were in a daze.

All the while, Payne simply watched her.

Truth be told, he was trying to determine if this was a ruse.

This was the same lady who’d nearly put his eye out earlier, all flame and fire, but now she was almost catatonic.

There was plenty of food on the table, and even though she’d eaten twice earlier that he knew of, she still took big bites of it, finally stabbing one of the pork sausages with a dull knife and holding it up to her mouth.

Seeing the woman as she was now was day and night from what he’d known of here earlier.

She appeared every inch a princess, beautiful and meant to be worshipped.

But he had a lot of questions.

“Did the pirates not feed ye, yer grace?” he asked.

She slowed her chewing. “Not much.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged, taking another big bite. “You would have to ask them,” she said. “I simply wasn’t provided with food very often.”

“So they starved ye.”

She swallowed the bite in her mouth and looked at him.

“As much as I hate the very sight of the woman who is your mother, I am not going to speak out against her to you, her son,” she said.

“I do not know you. I do not know what you will use against me, and my treatment, poor as it has been, could become worse. Therefore, do not ask me further questions about my time as the captive of Bloody Maude. Whatever has happened is between only us. I will keep it there.”

There was a seed of honor in that statement.

In fact, it was one of the core beliefs taught at Blackchurch.

When there was a personal conflict, it was solved only between those it involved.

To complain to others, to seek intervention for something that was the individual’s responsibility, was considered a sign of weakness.

Frankly, Payne was surprised to hear that she felt that way, but in doing so, he could see that she was a woman of honor. Small as it was, it impressed him.