CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENSolanum Cowiei Masquerades as the Male of the Species
I refused the clothing laid out for me. Yards of rustling skirts and a tight bodice threatened to offend the aches and pains in my body. Hosta found me searching for the male clothes I’d worn on the journey.
“You can’t dress as a man!” She postured, jutting out her chin and resting work-worn hands over her hips. “Queens don’t wear breeches.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m no queen,” I stated, realising the words held truth. I didn’t want to be one either. Turning to face her, I asked, “Who do you think I am? I sense your disappointment.”
She’d gone too far, antagonism making her sloppy. I saw the caution in the hasty shuttering of her eyes. Hosta swallowed and Lily peeked from behind her skirts. “Master Limah said you is
