In the morning, I got word from Grandpa that preparations for the journey to Andalusia were almost complete.
As the nurse applied more tinctures and ointments on the last of my more serious wounds, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and grimaced.
How in the world I had managed to convince Malafar that I was a queen was beyond me.
Although I was healing quite well, the swelling was nowhere near normal levels, my face was every shade of the rainbow.
I looked like a pending court case of spousal abuse although any of my three spouses would have had a heart attack if anyone had so much as hinted at such horrific conduct on their part.
"I am going to be having lunch with my Grandpa and I don't want to cause him any worries. Do you have any makeup that would cover the worst of this bruise?" I asked the nurse.
"I thought you'd never ask," she smiled. "Let me take care of it."
