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“Wake up!”
Something soft slammed into the side of my head, jolting me awake from my slumber. I curled up into a ball with my knees tucked against my chest and my arms clasped over my head, the soft mass continues its relentless assault on my body, striking any free space along my back and shoulder while the owner howled endless screams to wake up.
“Wake up, Kyri! You don’t want to be late for your first day!”
First day? First day of what? My eyes flickered open into tiny puffy slits – I’m really not a morning person, trust me. – And I peered between my fingers at a mop of curly hair holding a fluffy white pillow like it was a lethal weapon. Oh, yeah. Now I remember. I’m a maid now. A maid to the king and his household, no less. Sitting up, I rubbed my palms over my eyes, trying to bring a little life into the abused skin. Yesterday doesn’t seem real, my memories were all hazy like it was nothing more than a dream, but it’s all real. Black ashes are still caked deep underneath my fingernails, my hair still reeks of the tinge of smoke, and my shoulder aches from where the werewolf’s claws dug into the skin.
I hobbled out of bed and over to the cracked mirror in the tiny bathroom – much to my tormentor’s satisfaction as I could see her eagerly grinning reflection before I closed the door – I peeled the thick white bandage that encircled my shoulder away and stared at the angry red slashes that greeted my fuzzy sight. At least they weren’t infected, although the torn skin and oozing lacerations were still blood red and weeping, one thing they weren’t doing was oozing yellow pus, extremely puffy, or exceptionally heated. So that was a good sign considering I barely took time to swipe a little antiseptic across the wounds before slapping on a bandage and falling into the empty bed, not even feeling guilty about dirtying the pristine white sheets before I drifted off into slumber.
“Ooo, that’s nasty. Do you think you should see a physician?” The door’s hinges squeaked in protest when Melisandra pushed open a crack big enough that she could poke her head inside. “Those slash marks are totally huge! What clawed you so bad?”
“A werewolf.” I winched while pulling the bandage back in place.
“A werewolf! Are you serious? You fought a werewolf and lived?”
“Yep.” Carefully reaching with my uninjured arm, I lifted the maid’s uniform hanging from the hook over the door and moved to close the bathroom door again. Melisandra continued to stare at me with wide stretched eyes like I was some kind of warrior goddess or something. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head so fast that it sent her curls slapping against each other. “I just can’t believe someone like you fought a werewolf and lived! It takes soldiers years to train in the army, and even then most of them can’t even fight a Bloodwrath and live, much less a werewolf. You’re incredible!”
“No, I’m not,” I pushed the bathroom door firmly shut without another word, making sure that I locked it this time.
The next several minutes were spent in various levels of pain. It started off as mild irritation while trying to peel off the nightgown Melisandra had lent me just to take a quick bath, which quickly turned into stabs of mind-numbing pain when I attempted to pull the maid’s uniform on. Bottles of powered makeup littered the countertop and I briefly wondered if the tan colored powder would be useful enough to cover up the plum-colored bruises on my ankles where the skirt hem ended, but even in the bottle I could tell the shade was much too dark for me and would only serve to make my injuries appear worse than they really were. I don’t know if showing off purple skin is fashionable or not, but that’s what it is going to be today.
I carefully tied the strings of the frilly grey apron around my waist with one hand – a very careful maneuverer in itself that would hold only as long as I remember not to tug on the apron—smoothed the dark unruly strands of my hair into a ponytail, and slipping on the sturdy grey loafers Melisandra had sat outside the bathroom door. With a final sigh, I’m as ready as I am going to be to start this day. In the mirror, a girl stared back with sadness and exhaustion dulling the gleam of her eyes her eyes and thinning her lips into a fine pressed line. Blotches of maroon marked the exposed skin of her neck above the charcoal grey dress of heavy cotton material, the long sleeves reaching down to her wrists and slender skirt skimming the tops of her heavily bruised ankles. I look exactly how I feel, mud that has been pounded flat over and over again until it’s a fine smattering of pure mess.
The door shook under the repeated pounding fist on the opposite side. “Kyri! Are you done yet? We’ve got to go!” Melisandra called through the door again.
“Coming!” I called back, giving a final adjustment to my apron before stepping out of the bathroom.
I opened the door to find Melisandra standing right on the other side, her fists perched up on her hips and foot tapping impatiently against the floor. “Well, it’s about time! Wounded or not, you’re a maid in the royal house now with all the responsibilities that come with that! Including starting to work on time!”
Really? All this fuss over changing a few beds, dusting some furniture, and maybe ironing some clothes? It’s not like it’s a job for an academic scholar. “Are we allowed to have breakfast, or are we going straight into work?”
She huffed and grabbed my hand – the uninjured one thankfully. “Come on then! We can grab a quick bite, but then we have to strip the used bedding and prepare the dining room for Nikos’s breakfast.” We dashed off again at top speed – does this girl ever walk at a normal speed? – She led me out of our shared quarters, through a corridor of windows lit by the beautiful violet sunrise – which we didn’t take time to stop and admire—down a staircase, and into a kitchen already steaming hot from the heat of the stove. A short girl about my own age stood over a huge cast iron stove, endlessly stirring a boiling pot of broth – chicken broth, if the smell was any indication. Her honey blond hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck, and the sleeves of her grey dress were pushed all the way up to her elbows, revealing pale skin crisscrossed with burns and knife scars.
A man stood off to one side of the kitchen, a knife blade flashing up and down as a silver blur against the pecan-colored skin of his hand, swiftly reducing a carrot into paper-thin coin-sized slices. His dark brows drawn tight into a frown of concentration underneath his spikey styled black hair.
“Yo, Angelo! You’re going to chop straight through the countertop at that rate.” Thorn smirked from where he sat leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on a tiny wooden table, raising a brown glass bottle of what looked to be beer to his lips, his drink was interrupted by the answering thud of the knife landing in the wall just inches from his throat.
Angelo smiled, a curious blend of deadly malice and friendly humor that drew attention to his pearl white teeth. “Thank you so much for your input, Thorn. We wouldn’t want knives to go flying everywhere, now would we?” His words sounded more threat than humor, but the blonde girl at the stove buried her face in her sleeve trying to disguise her silent laughter although the shaking of her thin shoulders immediately gave her away.
“Come on, guys. Quit with the all the theater antics.” Melisandra strode over, smacked Thorn up the back of his head, and continued on to take over stirring the pot from the blonde girl at the stove. “We’ve got a new member of the team now and she’s not used to all your crap yet. So, straighten up!”
“Hey! What was that for? I didn’t do anything!” The eyepatch wearing soldier yelped, gingerly rubbing one meaty hand over the back of his skull that had encountered the blow. “I am a paragon of virtue, unlike the rest of you miserable clouts.”
“Ah, yes. We would do well to heed the advice of such a distinguished mind. Although, I didn’t realize that your expertise extended to something besides how not to attract women and drink copious amounts of liquor.” Angelo shot back with well-practiced ease.
Thorn smiled back, the action twisting the scars of his face up into a grin of feral delight, and continued to swig on his beer. “Aw, you’re just jealous of my irresistible charm and skill with the ladies.”
“There are many things I made be, but jealous of you is certainly not one of them.” Angelo wiped his hands on a towel before rolling down the upturned edges of his sleeves. Removing a grey tie from the pocket of his grey trousers, he quickly tied it around his neck, retrieved a matching grey jacket from behind Thorn’s chair, and slipped it on.
“Guys! Stuff it!” Melisandra ladled a spoonful of the creamy white oatmeal into a chipped china bowl. Clouds of steam still rose from the mixture even after being removed from the heat, the spicy-sweet aroma of cinnamon and sugar perfuming the air with its sweet fragrance. She sat the bowl of hot cereal down on the little table and a spoon while also simultaneously smacking Thorn’s hand when he reached across for the bowl, totally ignoring his yelp of pain and one-eyed glare. “You’ve already had your serving for the day, ya big galoot. This is for Kyri.” She motioned me to come and sit down in the empty chair across from Thorn.
Silently, I slid into the chair under the weighted gaze of four sets of curious eyes. The overwhelming curiosity over my appearance seemed to have rendered them silent for the moment. The oatmeal was delicious, simple but extremely effective in curbing the hunger I hadn’t realize was there while also being gentle on my ash coated throat. Only when I had finished the last bite did they dare break their silence with a barrage of questions.
“So, what’s the deal with you and the king?”
“Excuse me, ma’am. May I ask why the king appointed you to this position in the house?”
The blonde girl didn’t say anything at all, she just continued to stare silently at me with her expressive blue eyes that look so large in her petite doll-like features. Almost phantom-like, she hovered by Angelo’s shoulder in waiting as the others did for my answer.
Melisandra huffed in agitation, wiping her hands on her apron after dishing up the rest of the oatmeal and scrubbing the pot out. “Really? Haven’t you heard what the latest gossip is from the guards already? Or most likely Thorn, since he was there when she was brought in and the biggest gossipier of them all?”
Three heads stayed mute but one did wear an insufferably wide smile.
“She is Kyri Dekote, the only daughter of the huntsmen, Mikoff Dakote. Who is also the deceased childhood friend of the king, and she fought two werewolves and lived. One, if I am not totally mistaken, is being held in the dungeon for a trial, or a hunt, whichever comes first. So, don’t go bothering her with a bunch of questions, or pick-up lines, Thorn.” Melisandra fixed Thorn with a particularly hard glare that could have shattered stone. “Or, you know, she might just kick your ass.”
Even though her words were stern, none of the other’s seemed to take offense at the harsh tone, even producing a good-natured laugh from Angelo and the blonde girl at Thorn’s playfully affronted expression. Even with myself being the outsider, I still laughed when Thorn jumped up from the table and began playfully chasing Melisandra around the kitchen who slapped at his hands every time he drew near.
There was one thing that bothered me like a thorn stuck in my skin, I had never mentioned Alec to her in the brief conversations we had held. Maybe she had already heard that part from the gossiping guards she had mentioned earlier?
“My apologies for my behavior, good lady Kyri. I do believe introductions are in order. My name is Angelo Fierra, head butler of the king’s royal house.” I reached forward to shake his hand, but instead he kissed the back of my hand and then released it. My cheeks felt like they were on fire as I blushed as red as a tomato at the gesture I had only seen done in greeting by high-ranking lords to ladies of equal stature, certainly not to someone common like me.
“He forgot to mention insufferable know-it-all and pompous jerk!” Thorn chimed in, dodging around Melisandra now that the chase had reversed order with him being the prey instead of the hunter. Quick as a lightening flash, the soldier jumped into the air, avoiding the silver knife flung once again from Angelo’s outstretched fingertips.
“As I was saying, ma’am” Angelo stiffly cleared his throat. “My name is Angelo and I am delighted to make your acquaintance. As is this lovely blonde vision of breathtaking beauty at my side here, the superbly talented chef, Rosa Mignonette, who could enchant the air and make it taste as rich as fine wine.” Rosa blushed and hid her face behind the towel from the effects of Angelo’s flowery words. I smiled softly and gave a small wave, which she returned with a grateful smile and a timid wave of her own. I could sympathize with being put on the spot in so obvious a manner and did not wish to provide her with further discomfort. Shy girls had to stick together.
“You can’t forget me. I was the one who convinced Travain to bring you here!” Thorn slid into the seat beside me and slung an arm around my shoulders “The name is Thorn Adan, captain of the guard, best friend to the prince, and most importantly, a great lover of the ladies.” He crowed, not in the least self-conscious.
Oh... Now I know why he looks familiar. Second in popularity with the ladies behind Prince Travain, Thorn had a reputation of a brilliant military strategist that was almost as well-known as his popular reputation with the women of the kingdom. “I’ve heard great things about you.” I smiled and lied straight through my teeth, if he is that closely connected with Travain, I will have to watch what I say and do around him.
“I doubt that because really I’m an asshole.” Thorn said, his smile not even breaking while I struggle to keep mine without laughing.
“Finally! He admits it!” Angelo yelled to the ceiling, victoriously pumping his fist in the air. “Rosa, you’re my witness. He finally admitted it!”
Thorn made an obscene gesture in Angelo’s direction. “If you were that concerned about finding one, then why don’t you look in the mirror?” Little Rosa and Melisandra both wrapped their arms around Angelo’s shoulders, attempting to stall him as he marched forward with his fists already upraised for a punch while Thorn jumped to his feet and tauntingly weaved just out of range of the blows. I shot to my feet, slinking back towards the door and ready to run if a fight truly broke out. The magic crackled around my palms, a subtle golden glow beginning to grow from my skin. My eyes darted from side to side as I backed further away, shielding my hands behind my back to stop any stray eyes from catching sight of the magic.
“Stay right there!” Melisandra snapped, struggling to push her smaller self in between the two larger men.
“This is crazy,” I muttered under my breath. I’m really beginning to wonder not just about the sanity of the king, but this whole place in general. It must be something in the air, like a drug that turns everybody into some crazed version of themselves. I’ve got to get out of here before they find out my secret.
I had almost made it into the hallway when a heavy hand grasped my shoulder – thankfully my uninjured one. I spun around and screamed a sound worthy of a fainting lady as two eyes peered back at me from the shadows.
“Hey, hey. Easy now. No need to screech yer head off like a bloody banshee.” A beakish nose and scowl etched features emerged from the shadows ahead of an egg-shaped body on twig-thin legs. Clad in the solemn grey uniform of the commoners, the bald man behind me also bore the three white stripes encircling his bicep that marked him as a member of the royal army, a sergeant in fact. “And you four, frightening this scrawny girl out of her wits when you know we need the help around here. Why, I ought to kick all y’alls tails for such foolishness.” The rough, raspy tone and the twang of his accent is an obvious indicator that he isn’t a native of Althea, even the miners who have a thick burr to their accent don’t sound like this.
“Of course, my deepest apologies to the destressed lady.” Angelo deeply bowed at the waist. Thorn discreetly mumbled something under his breath that sounded like suck up, but a swift jab to the ribs from Melisandra shut him up quickly. Angelo straightened and flashed his dazzling smile at me with killer accucrary. “If the lady would be so kind, would she be willing to accompany me in serving our royal highness his breakfast?”
“Angelo, I need her to help strip the bedding today!” Melisandra whined, her voice taking on a high plaintive note. “You know how long it takes me to strip every single blanket, sheet, and pillowcase, carry each load all the way down to the washers, and then carry the cleaned linens upstairs and make up the beds again. And, I haven’t even had time to prepare the dining room yet for Nikos arrival! Solomon, make him leave Kyri with me!”
“Alright!” Solomon sharply clapped his hands together in a ringing snap of toughened skin against skin. “Angelo, take the new girl with ye. She might as well know what she is in for anyway. Thorn, since you’re not doing anything important besides sucking up all the air from the rest of us, you can help Sandra with her duties. Rosa, you keep manning the kitchen, and started thinking about a menu to serve the Ghro’s when they come for their fancy-smancy tea party in two days. Just keep in mind not to serve any watercress sandwiches to that bigmouth brat of theirs. Last time, she swore you gave her food poisoning because she had the runs for a week straight. Now, git yourselves moving!”
Solomon clapped his hands again and everyone went scurrying away. Melisandra grabbed Thorn by the shoulder and started dragging him off through the halls – his complaints leaving a trail of echoes behind. Rosa bustled back to a shelf behind the table and pulled out a food stained and splattered cookbook. Angelo lifted a bowl of oatmeal onto a shining silver tea tray, carefully balanced it on one hand, and offered me his free arm to accompany him. I weaved my arm through his and he led me away from the scowling sergeant who appeared to be the stern backbone of this castle.
It was only when we were safely out of earshot was I unable to contain my burning curiosity any longer. “Angelo?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Who was that? That old man, I mean?”
Angelo chuckled lightly. “That was Solomon. The king’s falconry master. Out of all the servants, soldiers, and nobles, I think he’s been in service since Nikos’s father was on the throne. He’s certainly the oldest one here in the castle now, beating out the king by ten years. Although you would think about it, seeing how he still trains the birds for the king, while the king sits in the garden...” Angelo trailed off as we turned the corner into a large dining room. Much like every other room I’ve visited so far, it’s very dark with only the gas lamps on the walls emitting a soft amber glow. A long oaken table occupies much of the room, easily sitting a hundred heads, if not more. Dust and grime caked windows peeked out from behind heavy red velvet curtains faded an ugly maroon over time, the early morning sunlight barely able to shine through the thick combination of the two. The most noticeable object in the room is the dust. A fluffy white film that coated every available surface like a blanket, showing the passing of time that has only lent to the disturbance of one particular chair and seat at the head of the table and the other directly to the left.
“Miss Kyri, if you would be so kind, would you open that cabinet there and take out two of the white lace placemats? Angelo pointed to a dust covered oak cabinet of the same whitish-yellow color as the table, except the cabinet has ornate birds with long swirling feathers carved into the surface. I did as he asked and opened the cabinet, finding a pile of white lace table linens tinged yellow with age. A quick sorting produced the two placemats, one still pristine despite its age, the other covered with splotches of food and drink long faded into the delicate threads.
I returned to the table with the linens in hand and spread out the two placemats in the spots indicated by the lack of dust while Angelo waited behind with the food and the silverware. The multiple sets of silverware.
Well, shit.
Despite the numerous books I had read before the library was closed, the prestigious art of properly setting a table was not a subject that came up during that time, mainly because I didn’t believe that I would ever be in a position that would require that kind of knowledge. Goes to show you how much I know.
On my first try, I placed the forks on the right and the spoons on the left, leaving the knives to rest above the plate in line where the glasses would be. Except that position was quickly dismissed by a casual frown from Angelo. A small droplet of sweat trickled down my neck when I reversed the positions of the forks and the spoons that only resulted in the butler’s scowl to furrow even deeper across his forehead. Maybe the knives have to go down on the sides instead of the top, but then where do the others go?
“Lady Kyri, if you would please hold this for a moment?” Angelo’s question isn’t really a question as he passed the tray to me and quickly set the table to his peculiar satisfaction. Long fingers flashed with rapid speed as the forks quickly occupied the space on the left whereas the knives lodged in the space on the right, the spoons resting in the knives’ previously occupied space above the plate that dictated where the food would be placed. I felt my cheeks heat pink with embarrassment as he stepped back with a satisfied smile, how could I be such an idiot as to not know how to properly set a table?
Within a few moments, the bowls of warm oatmeal and mugs of fresh brewed coffee were also arranged on the table and ready to be served – despite the popularity among the whole kingdom, coffee is another item that is reserved for the elite members of society because of the limited farmland available to grow the precious crop. I heard a strange thumping noise followed by outraged yowls that served as a warning for the incoming arrival of our employers. I looked to Angelo in silent question as to what I should do, but he placed a finger on his lips in a gesture for silence and backed up against the wall, hands clasped behind his back in the pose of humility I know all too well. The thump and screeching sounds grew louder, and I skidded to a stop beside Angelo, assuming the position that has been drilled into my head since before I could speak seconds before the source of the noise came barging into the room.
“Stand up straight and walk, you foolish old man!” A sweat-drenched and red-faced Travain dragged in a fighting bundle of red fabric, skinny arms, and bony legs by the back of his red shirt. King Nikos at his very best, I assume.
“No! I won’t! You can’t make me!” Nikos stopped flailing for the moment and crossed his arms over where his chest should have been if it hadn’t been cloaked by the expanse of his beard. One thin lower lip rolled out in a pout and with it, the king of Althea became the image of a sullen child.
Rolling his eyes once more with an exasperated sigh, Travain lifted the king up by his armpits and plunked him down in the chair at the head of the table. Before Nikos could even mumble a word in protest, Travain pushed his chair up to the table, grabbed one of the cloth napkins that Angelo had laid out alongside the plates, and tied it around Nikos’s neck like a bib. “There! Now see if you can even feed yourself or are you going to need a nursemaid as well?” Travain snarled, sinking into the chair beside the king. With no further concern expressed for Nikos’s current state, the prince began shoveling up his own breakfast so fast that wisps of steam drifted out of his lips every time he opened his mouth to insert another spoonful of the warmed oatmeal.
Nikos continued to sit in the chair, scowling at the breakfast of oatmeal and tea like it was a poisonousness substance ready to attack him. “I don’t want this slop! I want roast beef!” Nikos ripped off the napkin from around his neck, flung it to the ground, and stood on his chair with his wrinkled fists pumping in the air while chanting. “I want roast beef! I want roast beef! Roast beef for breakfast!”
“Oh, shut up and sit down!” Travain snarled, irritatedly running a hand through the inch long stubble on top of his head. The normally well-groomed prince was looking a little harried this morning. His blood red shirt was rumpled, smeared with dusty grey streaks and untucked from the waistband of his black pants. Fresh ash singed the cuffs of his pants at the ankle where the hem was not covered by his thick black boots. The prince’s nose was also a bit swelled, and his lower lip was split and still oozing blood in a small weeping trail. Nikos must have put up quite the fight before being dragged in for breakfast this morning. All in all, with his pale complexion, black and red clothing choice, and blood leaking from his lip, he looked more a vampire prince than one of the elite. “Eat your damn breakfast before I shovel it down your throat!”
“Your highness, if I may?” I jumped a bit in surprise when Angelo suddenly stepped forward from beside me. He eyes the prince in question, and Travain snorts but waves him on towards the bouncing elderly boy-king anyway.
“Be my guest if you think you can knock some sense into his fool head.” His lips didn’t move as he spokes, the angry cast of his blue eyes still continuing to stare at the opposite wall while wolfing down the remainder of his meal.
Angelo nodded once. With the lightest of movements, he laid a hand on the king’s elbow and guided the little tyrant down into the chair without being forceful. “Of course, sir. You may have roast beef if you so wish. I will tell our darling Rosa of your request right away. Alas, it will take some time for her to prepare your request, and I know for certain that she would not wish her king to go hungry. So, would you mind eating just a little of the breakfast that she made especially for you? I think that you’ll like it if you try.”
Nikos tilted his head, the broken wheels of his mind spinning with consideration for the problem before him. Wait in painful hunger for his request to be fulfilled, or eat the food before him and happily wait with a filled stomach. The slow smile that spread across his face was alarmingly creepy, a sight that sent shivers crawling down my spine and a tickle of sparks to bloom at my fingertips. “You’ll make sure not to make me wait too long?”
Angelo bowed with that ever present charming smile. “Of course, sir.”
“Good.” With that said, the mad king descended upon the meal like a starved dog. Voracious smacking sounds filled the air, charming a stressful bout of nausea to violently rip through my stomach just from the sickening sounds themselves and I had to struggle not to launch my own breakfast onto the floor. Globs of oatmeal splattered across the table in small lumps of gooey tan, a few of the liquidly missiles splattering in Nikos’s beard while he ate but even more landed on the placemat and the table. Travain snarled in disgust when some of the oatmeal lumps came sailing his way, using his napkin as a wipe to remove the debris that had dared to spatter along his sleeve. The smacking transformed into a bout of slurping as Nikos shifted from the now cleaned bowl to the mug of coffee which was sucked down in three great gulps.
Now finished with his meal, Nikos swiped a hand across his lips, spreading a lumpy brown stain up the sleeve of his robe – or maybe it’s a shirt and he’s just too short to wear it properly. With his meal now out of the way and ready for the day’s events, Nikos hopped down from his chair, slid across the floor to the door in his sock feet, flipped an obscene gesture at his stepson, and sauntered away like... well, a king.
“It seems the king himself is in his usual form today,” Angleo remarked dryly in a voice so low that only I can hear. A ghost of a smile presented itself on my face, but is quickly cowed by the venomous glare Travain shoots at us.
“You two, get this filth cleaned up! Now!” Travain ordered as he jolts to his feet. Shoulders set stiffly back, he marched out of the room in a double time stamping beat – the training of a soldier, I suppose. The door slammed behind him in his wake, the vibrations shaking the doorframe and the floor itself as it rumbles up through my feet. I winched when the shakes dislodged a plate carefully teetering on the edge of the table only to fall and shatter completely into white shards upon impact with the hard floor beneath.
“I bid you welcome to the royal Mistronavich household, Lady Kyri. I hope you are ready for a rather amusing time.” Angelo smiled as he produced a cleaning cloth from a hidden pocket in his jacket, wiping up the mess of slopped food and spilled drink across the table with long smooth strokes. I started gathering the now-used dishes into a pile, the monotonous stacking motion of the task allowing my thoughts to wander as my hands themselves stayed busy. The strained relationship between the king and the prince was certainly different than what I had been expecting after being used to the cool indifference that the two projected on their few public appearances. Perhaps after being used to the affection that was shown to me in my own family and the others that I knew around the marketplace is what made it so strange to me in the first place.
“Is something wrong, Miss Kyri?”
Angelo’s soft question effectively broke me out my rambling thoughts and my head lifted up, eyes open wide in surprise to meet his dark ones peering at me with some concern. “N-No. Just thinking.” I stammered
Angelo continues swiping across the table with long, steady strokes. “I assume it is a bit much for a newcomer to absorb. Especially with the King’s illness and all. The servants of the house have all become accustomed to the way things change on a hairpin around here, but you. You’re different. I’m pleasantly surprised you haven’t run screaming out of the palace yet.” He leans across the table and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re already a vast improvement over the last two maids. The first ran out after just three days of our royal highness’s whiplash temper. The second last marginally longer, at least a week if I remember correctly. Although she claimed that farming the fields was much more preferable to listening to Sandra’s constant stream of chattering dribble – her words, not mine – and Thorn’s consistent amorous praise. It wasn’t a huge problem when she left anyway, the whole mansion – royal family and all – despised her sour disposition. That was the one time I witnessed Rosa take a carving knife after another human. Luckily, I was able to convince our lovely chef not to befoul her blades with the maid’s blood. There is no true escape from the king’s house except by death itself.” He ended with a soft laugh that sounded amusing, but I felt the dark undertone of his final words ring true more than his laughter did.
“Are they always like that?” I pointed one finger at the door to indicate the departed monarchs as the subject of my question. “Are they always so nasty to each other?”
Angelo paused, leaning his hip against the table as he considered my question. “The relationship between the king and the prince is a difficult one, that is most obvious, but I do think they care for each other in their own way. His royal highness has just had an extremely hard time after the queen’s sudden departure and by extension, his relationship with his stepson as well. If you would like my opinion, I believe that the prince reminds his highness too much of the queen and thus he has more or less emotionally abandoned his stepson because his grief is still too raw.”
Part of what Angelo said made sense, but I still had trouble wrapping my thoughts around the comparison of good queen Maribelle – who by every account I’ve read must have been a true living saint – and her arrogant son. I think there was more to this picture than what was told. “You’re very knowledgeable about things, Angelo,” I mentioned casually.
“It comes with the territory of the job, Lady Kyri. As a servant here in the King’s castle, one must learn how to read the subtle signs of every situation. The direction of a casual glance, the nervous shifting of feet, a well-placed flutter of hands. It all has a meaning, whether conscious or unconscious, and it is the servant’s job to remain invisible in order to be the unseen force that will make our highness’s life easier. No one notices a servant and the intention of their duties.” Even though Angelo spoke so casually, there was a soft guard in his tone and a briskness to his cleansing strokes along the table, as if he was slicing a foe in his mind with every stroke rather than speaking of the duties of being a servant.
I shivered as the temperature of the room declined to an icy cold while the shadows deepened and writhed along the walls, forming hissing serpents and fire-breathing dragons before submerging into flat darkness once more. I could have sworn my eyes were playing tricks on me, but the longer I stared, the more uncertain I became if my sight was true. Something just felt wrong about this place, about being here.
It almost felt like magic. Magic darker than my own.
“Would you like me to take those to the kitchen for you?” I motioned towards the stack of dirty dishes with my hand. Suddenly, I had the urge to distance myself from the king’s appointed head butler and this place.
“Thank you, Miss Kyri.” His smile was as cold as the temperature of the room felt against my skin. The weight of Angelo’s dark eyes bored into my skull with every movement like a predator’s gaze, watching my shaky hands hesitantly pick up the heavy dishes before gingerly venturing towards the door. The touch of the chilled ceramic dishes against my hands sent more chills skittering across my skin, my teeth beginning to rattle in my skull as the unexpected shifting of the weight in my arms sent me tottering off-balance.
“Careful, Lady Kyri. I wouldn’t want you to fall.” Angelo’s hands latched on to my shoulders, providing the stability that allowed me to regain my balance. I jerkily nodded and headed for the door, the dishes raddling in my hands as my feet ran as fast I could.