Theo took Lolly’s change in demeanor as a warning.
“Theodora?” The woman had shimmering steel-gray hair that gave off subtle purple hints. Goblin, definitely. A thin braid flowed back from each temple to be twisted into an elaborate knot with the rest of her hair. Her ears tapered toward the sky, and she wore the same deep-purple livery as Elswood. The clothing had steely trim with tiny skull buttons. This had to be the housekeeper. The woman in charge of everything Elswood wasn’t.
“Yes, I’m Theodora. You must be Mrs. Baton.”
“I am. Come this way, Theodora, and we’ll see that you’re properly attired.”
Theo glanced back at Mrs. Applestock and Lolly. Mrs. Applestock gave her a sympathetic smile. Huh. A smile in her direction. That was new.
She kind of liked it.
Theo followed Mrs. Baton. She had no other choice. But the very idea of wearing the livery of the king who’d tried to sell his own citizens into slavery…her skin already crawled.
But this was what she’d agreed to. All to keep her father from the damp, dirty cells beneath Fangmore Castle should the queen have called in the debt.
She wondered what this home was called, but she supposed she’d learn that eventually. She had three-hundred sixty-four and a half days to find out.
Chapter Three
After a few restless hours of staring at the ceiling, Robin gave up on sleep and got dressed for the day. That was one task he was grateful he no longer needed Elswood for. He’d never needed Elswood for it, but a king was expected to maintain certain standards and abide by certain rules of etiquette. Having a valet assist him with his clothing and weaponry was one of those rules.
Fortunately, Elswood had gone from valet to butler with ease.
It was also fortunate that exiled kings could generally make their own rules about the help they needed. The fact that he still kept a staff was mainly because of the size of his house. It was ridiculously large. But then, he’d built this house never imagining he’d live in it without a big family.
There was no way he’d be able to maintain a house this size by himself. And keeping staff helped in another way because the fact was that living in such a monstrously large place alone would have been the pinnacle of loneliness.
At times, it still was.
He’d built this house thinking it would be a sort of summer palace. A place to retreat to when he and his queen needed to get away from life in Limbo. As such, it would be filled with staff when he and Vesta were here. When it had become plain that wasn’t going to happen, he’d still expected more of his staff to follow him when he’d been removed. Not just the household staff, but some of his ministers and secretaries. Those who knew he was innocent of the charges she’d leveled against him.
As it happened, Vesta had not only encouraged him to build this house for them, she’d turned the staff against him. All of them. Save Elswood.
He wondered what the citizens of Limbo thought of him now. If any of them remembered him fondly, or if he was the villain in all of their tales of days gone by. So many years had passed.
It didn’t matter. Not much. He’d never leave the confines of his restricted life. Which meant he’d never leave Shadowvale. It was a fate he was more or less resigned to.
He zipped up the waxed twill jumpsuit he wore to inspect the mines, tugged on his steel-toed boots, and grabbed his hard hat. He tucked a small steel knife into his boot, then strapped a longer, malachite-handled dagger into a specially made loop on his jumpsuit. No self-respecting goblin went anywhere without a blade of some kind.
Fully dressed, hard hat under his arm, he made his way toward the stairs. The lack of sleep had left him with little appetite, but he liked to stop by the kitchen anyway.
Mrs. Applestock was one of his favorite people. And her biscuits, which she made every morning, were always a hit with the miners. She made a double batch just for them on the days he visited the mines.
He jogged down the stairs and through the house, barely seeing the surrounding luxury. It was all just window dressing. His hours were spent in the more personal areas of the house.
The opulent sitting rooms, ballroom, and dining hall were meant for company. Something he never had.
He went down the back stairs and strode into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Applestock.”
She smiled at him as she pulled a large tray of biscuits from the oven. She put the pan on the marble island, then gave him a little bow. “Your timing is impeccable as always, Your Lordship.”
“I try.” The smell of warm biscuits made him rethink his lack of appetite. He settled onto one of the stools at the island.
“Sire.” Lolly put a mug of coffee and a little pitcher of cream in front of him, then went back to sweeping the floor.
“Thank you, Lolly.” He inhaled, taking in the clove and cardamom that were the necessary ingredients to all good goblin coffee. There was nothing like it as far as he was concerned.
He slid over the sugar bowl and added a couple spoonfuls to his mug, then a quick pour of cream.
Mrs. Applestock gave him a rather disapproving but motherly look. He smiled. He’d come to enjoy those looks more than he could say. “Your Lordship, you know I can have Lolly take all of this up to the small dining room.”
Lolly nodded. “Right away.”
He shook his head. “I know you can. And you both know I don’t like to eat up there. I much prefer the company of beautiful women anyway.”
Mrs. Applestock chuckled. “Shall I pack a basket for you to take, then?”
She always asked, and he always said yes. It was their ritual. “Please.”
Lolly’s frown wasn’t missed. He knew she wasn’t a fan of accompanying him to the mines. The girl had dated one of the miners, a holler troll by the name of Billy, but had broken things off a while back. Now she balked every time there were biscuits to carry.
He felt for her. He understood all about having an ex you didn’t want to see. He gave her a short reprieve. “I’ll have a biscuit now with my coffee before I leave. What kind of jam is there?”
“Blackberry jam and peach preserves. But is that all you want? I could make hot cakes. With cod sausages and baked sugar beans and some of those buttered mushrooms you like.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m fine with just a biscuit and coffee. Blackberry jam, please.” Finding the appetite for a biscuit was one thing. Finding it for a full goblin breakfast was another. Although he gave Mrs. Applestock credit for learning to cook such a spread. She’d adapted her skills marvelously to his tastes.
She brought him a plate with two piping-hot biscuits, along with a crock of butter, a crock of blackberry jam, and a knife.
There was no point in telling her he’d wanted only one biscuit. He already knew he’d eat both. Her biscuits were that good, especially when they were hot from the oven. Warm and buttery with the kind of soft, crumbling texture that made them melt in his mouth.
Their deliciousness was exactly why he took them to the mine with him whenever he went. They made the miners happy to see him, and he much preferred to keep people happy.
He split the biscuits, spread them with butter, then added a thick layer of jam. This would hold him until he got back, that was for sure.
“Mrs. Applestock, have you seen Mrs. Baton? She’s not in her—oh. Excuse me.”
Robin glanced up to see who the voice belonged to and looked into the most interesting green-gold eyes he’d ever seen. “Hello.”
She stared at him. “Hello.”
She was wearing Gallow House livery, but he’d never seen her before. And there was no way he would have forgotten that beguiling face or those eyes. Or another goblin in the house. She had to be with that hair and those ears and those braids. “Did Elswood hire you?”
“No, I’m—”
Mrs. Applestock stepped closer. “This is Theodora, Your Lordship. Just arrived. She’s here to—”
“Your Grace,” Elswood interrupted as he
strode into the room. “My apologies. I was just coming to find you to let you know about the new girl.” He glanced at her. “Mrs. Baton is waiting for you in her office.”
Theodora shook her head. “I was just in there, and she wasn’t—”
“She’s there now,” Elswood snapped.
“Yes, sir.” She did a quick, clumsy curtsy and left.
Far too soon for Robin’s liking. “I didn’t know we were hiring a new girl. I approve. Although I’m not so sure of that term. She looks more like a woman to me.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.” Elswood smiled indulgently. “She’s come to serve a year’s indenture.”
Robin shook his head. “I don’t recall anyone owing me a year’s service.”
“It’s quite an old indenture, my lord. It was produced nearly twenty years ago.”
“Twenty? But I’d only just become…” His long-gone title didn’t need to be spoken to be understood.
Elswood knew. He nodded. “Yes, Sire, you had.”
“Sounds like rubbish. There’s no way I would have indentured a child. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, then.”
“Nine, I believe. And you didn’t indenture her. It’s her father’s order. She’s fulfilling it for him. He is unwell, apparently, and unable to do it. And the terms of fulfillment were nearly up. Another few days, and he would have been in default. Such a thing would have sent him straight to the dungeons.”
“Not likely. I’m no longer king. I can’t very well claim any rights to payment or send the man to jail.”
“No, Sire. But the queen can.”
“I see.” But he didn’t. Not fully. Didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was the incredible loyalty this woman had to her father to give up a year of her life for him. Loyalty like that, a rare commodity in his world, intrigued him. And although he had no interest in an indenture, the idea of someone new in the house was welcome. “She’ll be here for a year, you said?”
“Yes, Sire. I’ve put the document on your desk.”
He nodded. “I’ll look at it later. When I return.”
Elswood hesitated.
“What is it?”
“If I may, Your Lordship…there are only a few days left on the indenture. If you don’t sign off on it soon, the clock will run out.”
“I promise. As soon as I return.”
“Very good, Sire. Is there anything I can do for you today?”
“No.” The things Robin needed, no one could provide. The key to this prison of a life didn’t exist.
Elswood bowed. “Enjoy your day, Sire.”
“Thank you.” Robin turned back to his biscuits. “Wait. What did you say her name is?”
“The girl? I mean, the woman?”
“Yes.”
“Theodora Muddlebranch or something.”
“Very good.” He gave Elswood a quick nod. “You’re dismissed.” The name meant nothing to him.
Elswood left, and Robin’s mind wandered, the woman’s name tumbling through his memories as he hoped to latch on to something. He felt like he should remember the name, but twenty years ago?
He’d practically been a boy then. Just crowned, having won the battle of First Moon against the orcs and, in doing so, earning himself the throne. It hadn’t been planned. But battles were funny things that sometimes took unexpected turns, and he’d known the Threadbare Forest in and out from his time hunting starstones there.
He’d had a hunch where the orcs’ king would be. And he’d been right. Robin had followed that hunch, found the orc king alone, and captured the old man single-handedly. He’d earned a few scars from the fight, but he’d prevailed.
And just like that, the throne of Limbo had become his. A gift from the aged and heirless sitting king.
But the name Muddlebranch eluded him. Like one of those lightning bugs in the woods surrounding his home. Not that he’d want to catch one of those.
He sighed and took a bite of biscuit. It was still warm, the jam sticky-sweet, and he made short work of the rest of it. Why couldn’t he place that name, though?
Mrs. Applestock set the big wicker basket of biscuits in front of him. They were covered with kitchen towels, as always. “I put a few crocks of jam and butter in there, as well, plus some spoons. Lolly’ll be ready to go when you are.”
“Thank you. The miners will be thrilled.” He picked up the second biscuit. “Say, I know Lolly doesn’t like making the trip since the incident with Billy.”
Mrs. Applestock rolled her eyes. “Aye, the perils of young love. But she’ll be fine.”
Robin shook his head. “No point in torturing her. She can have a break. I’ll have Theodora carry the biscuits.”
Chapter Four
Theo stood in Mrs. Baton’s office, listening to her explain the policies and procedures of working at Gallow House, which was how they all referred to the place. But as Mrs. Baton droned on, Theo’s mind wandered.
Mostly to His Lordship. And how he was nothing like what she’d imagined. How was he not a craggy old man? Stooped with age and graying?
He looked very much like a warrior capable of capturing the orc king. Tall and strong and lithe with that feral goblin grace. His braids could use redoing, but otherwise a perfect example of the male of their species.
In fact, he looked more like the king’s son than the king. The king’s hot son. So not like the monarch himself. True, goblins didn’t really show their age until their seventh or eighth decade, but how young was he?
She tried to remember her history, but there hadn’t been much about King Robin. After all, he was a traitor to his kingdom. What more did anyone need to know than that? The libraries and schools contained only officially sanctioned books, so trying to uncover more than what was taught would have meant searching out other sources. She worked far too much to spend her time researching the history of a bygone ruler.
Not even her father liked to talk about King Robin’s time on the throne. She knew because she’d pressed him before she’d left. She’d wanted to know as much as possible about the man she was about to serve for a year.
But her father had mostly just smiled and shaken his head and repeated the things she’d already learned in school.
Things like Robin Gallow was a traitor to the goblin nation. He’d won the throne, but only because he’d been in league with the orcs and had had a plan to turn the citizens of Limbo over to them as slaves. Very soon after marrying him, Queen Vesta had uncovered the plot just in time and banished him, saving her homeland of Livion and the goblin kingdom, Limbo.
Making her the savior of both.
That was the gist of everything contained in the history books. And those books were approved by Queen Vesta’s cultural minister.
So all her life, Theo had imagined King Robin to be this beady-eyed tyrant with a cruel smile and an unnatural need for power.
Not the exceedingly handsome man who’d been eating jam-and-butter biscuits with the enthusiasm of a child on All Saints’ morning. Certainly not the man who’d been kind and cordial with his staff. Was it possible his time in exile had changed him?
She doubted it.
“Are you listening to me?”
Theo straightened. “Yes, ma’am. Sheets must be ironed. Towels must be folded in threes, and pillows are to be fluffed at turndown.”
Mrs. Baton frowned. “Correct.”
A knock on the door was followed by the appearance of Mrs. Applestock’s cheery face. “Sorry to interrupt, but the biscuits need carrying down to the mine.”
Mrs. Baton’s frown went nowhere. “That’s Lolly’s job.”
Mrs. Applestock wasn’t deterred. “His Lordship has requested that Theodora do the carrying today.”
Mrs. Baton’s lips pursed like an invisible drawstring had suddenly been pulled. She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll send her along.”
“Thank you. Trout potpie for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Applestock added before she disappeared.
Mrs. Baton’
s sharp gaze turned to Theo. “You’d better be on your best behavior, girl. I can’t imagine why he’d ask for you, except that he must already suspect you’re not up to this job.”
“I’ll do my best.” Because biscuit carrying required a high level of skill. But she kept that comment to herself.
Mrs. Baton pointed toward the door. “Well, go. Don’t keep His Lordship waiting.”
“No, ma’am.” She took her time walking back to the kitchen. She wasn’t going to hustle just because Baton said jump. Do that once, and it would always be expected. She didn’t want Baton thinking she had any great pull over her either.
Besides, only the exiled king could declare her service void, and Theo wasn’t about to let that happen. Such a tragedy would immediately call her father’s account due and result in him doing time in the dungeons. That would be the end of him in a few short days.
As much as she despised the exiled king, she felt rather certain she could get into and stay in his good graces.
She hoped. At least he was easy to look at.
She walked into the kitchen and found him putting his plate in the sink. What kind of royalty cleaned up after themselves? Lolly was at the other end of the long sink, scrubbing a pan, and Mrs. Applestock was sitting at the far end of the island, poring over a cookbook and making notes on a pad of paper.
Theo cleared her throat softly. “You asked for me, Sire?”
He turned. And smiled. At her. It seemed like a benevolent smile, but that was probably part of his act. Didn’t matter. She knew what he was all about. He leaned against the sink like he relaxed in the kitchen all the time. “Yes. I’d like you to accompany me to the mines today.”
“You want me to carry the biscuits.” It wasn’t a question. More of an impertinent statement, but he didn’t seem to take it that way.
He nodded. “Yes, please.”
Please? She didn’t mean to frown at his use of that word, but apparently she had.
“It’s not far, and I like to walk. I hope you don’t mind. It’s good exercise.”
“Whatever you wish.” It wasn’t up to her how they traveled, but walking suited her fine.
Moody and the Beast Page 3