Last night had been hell.
After the argument, Emilia had sulked and raged in her bedchamber. Finally Luci, worried and antsy, slipped into the room uninvited with a cup of hot, sweet chamomile tea. She thrust it firmly in Emilia’s hands and watched with pointed eyes until her mistress had sipped the tea down to dregs.
“Sit on the floor,” Luci commanded, taking out a soft-bristle brush. Starting at the ends, Luci carefully worked the brush through Emilia’s dense curls.
“You know,” Luci gently said, “I’ve never owned a brush or comb. Flowering vines don’t really have need for one. I learned to style hair by practicing on my mother. She works in the palace, too. She tends the vineyards and helps make the wine you drink. My father is one of the King’s game wardens- the kindest soul you co
