by ERIN BEDFORD
"What?" I barked as I grabbed a pen to scribble a note to the head cook. I would have guests tonight, and there had to be an adequate banquet prepared. I couldn't present myself like some kind of savage.
"And what of Ericka?"
"What of her?" I bristled, not wanting him to see past my hard exterior. He simply stared at me until I grumbled. "Fine. I'll let up on her. In fact," a slow smile crawled up my face, "I have just the job for her."
"Oh, no." Finch took a step closer to my desk. "I know that look. That isn't a ‘I'm going to give the girl a break’ look. That's an ‘I have something even worse up my sleeve’ look."
I forced myself not to smile. The fae knew me too well. Instead, I gaped at him in mock horror.
"I would do no such thing,” I scoffed. “Besides, you said no more hard labor. I hardly think joining my guests and me for dinner is hard work."
Finch's eyes narrowed as he watched my face. His lips pinched into a displeasing frown, but I ignored him as I made for the door. Before I stepped out, Finch asked, "What's your endgame?"
I stiffened and twisted back around. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what's the point of all of this?” Finch urged me to answer him with a pleading gesture. “You are hardly the type to take on unneeded distractions. And don't try to tell me you're bored or are teaching her a lesson, because I know that's a load of shite."
My brows shoved together as I puckered my mouth to one side. "I don't know what you are talking about. She disrespected me in front of the villagers. Of course, this is to teach her a lesson. What else could it be?"
"I'm not sure, but it's not like you." Finch stroked his jaw in thought. "I was only kidding about the crush, but the way you are acting is starting to make me wonder. Do you care for Ericka?"
I gaped at him for real this time. "Me? Care for a human woman? That's laughable. No, inconceivable. I have killed people for less."
"No, you haven't.” Finch snorted. “You forget, you tell me everything. You haven't killed anyone that didn't deserve it, and this hardly counts." He placed his hands on his hips and tapped a foot. "And what's this nonsense with Lady Nico? You shouldn't give the sweet girl hope for the sake of torturing Ericka. Her father will not be as understanding."
"Pfft." I waved him off and turned back to the door. "I can handle Marcus. You just worry about getting Ericka the right clothes for the job. I have a reputation to uphold after all."
I held a hand to my chest and lifted my chin before marching out of the room. The sight of Finch's incredulous face made me laugh all the way to my bedroom.
Chapter 6
Ericka
I groaned as I finished up the last dish in the sink and surveyed my body. My hands hurt. My back. My neck. Oh gods, everything ached. Even my toes. How in the world was that possible?
They told me back home that working at the palace would be vastly different from working in Boggsville but this? This was beyond anything I could have imagined.
I knew from the beginning that living in the palace would make the other servants wary of me. It was clearly favoritism in the worst way possible. Nobody greeted me on my first day. Nobody even introduced themselves to me. The only person who talked to me was the head cook, Jasmine, a water nymph with a voluptuous figure and pouty lips. She wasn't exactly mean to me, but she was short, stern. Never gave me room to argue or ask questions, simply pushed me toward a task and then criticized every moment of it.
"How can you possibly be trusted to make the king's pies if you can't even wash a dish correctly?" she pointed out this morning when I came down to the kitchen. I'd already cleaned the floors and aligned all the utensils just so only to have them ruined in the next five minutes. That one was hard to swallow, but I did so without complaint.
I couldn't help but wonder if everyone in the kitchen had the same tasks thrust upon them when they first arrived, or if this trial was caused by the king's favoritism? It certainly couldn't be anything I'd done. I'd only just arrived, and I'd done nothing but offer kindness to those around me.
"Burner!" Jasmine called out, jerking me out of my thoughts.
I slowly turned, holding back a wince as the ache in my bones. "Yes, ma'am?"
"You're done for the day." Her dark blue hair fell into her pale face as she gestured a hand in my direction.
I frowned at her. "But it's only two. We still have dinner to—"
"Are you questioning me?" The nymph cut me off with a glare, her hands on her apron covered hips. "Are you head cook?"
"No, ma'am," I quickly jumped in, holding my hands up.
"I don't know how they did things back in Boggsville," she spat the word as if it tasted rotten in her mouth before grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me toward the door, "but here, you do as you're told and be happy for a place to lay your head."
My eyes shifted around me as I let her pull me through the kitchen. All the other servants, a mixture of fae and humans, watched with curious expressions. Some seem to pity me, but others seemed to revel in the way Jasmine was treating me. Like she was putting me in my place.
I tried not to let myself believe that was the case. I was sure she was just doing her job, so I pushed down my hurt and allowed her to push me out of the kitchen. Jasmine nudged me and jerked her head towards the stairs.
"Go to your room and don't come back here until tomorrow morning."
With that, she spun on her heel and went back to prepping for dinner.
My brows drew together as I rubbed my arm where her nails had bit into it and chewed on my lower lip. I didn't want to disobey, but I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done something wrong. Did I wash the dishes incorrectly? Or maybe it was a puddle of water several of the others had slipped in earlier that I hadn't noticed I was making?
I cast another worried and regretful look toward the kitchen before moving toward the stairs. I'd barely gotten two steps when the whispering started. I usually ignored the talking behind my back. Servants were notorious gossips, so I was used to it by now, but something they said made my hand pause on the banister.
"That poor girl," a voice I recognized to belong to a human woman named, Becca, tisked. "I'm all for making sure no one gets a big head, but this is just so wrong."
"Shush," another voice said. It belonged to a brownie named Tryst who had been the one to bump into my painstakingly organized utensils. "The king has made his orders clear. Who are we to question him?"
My mouth fell open in surprise. Seriously? It was Balefire's fault I was getting treated like crap?
"But why? Why this girl? She's human for one and for another she seems like she'd be really nice," Becca argued, her voice going high with distress. "I don't want to lose a chance at a friendship because the king has a bug up his ass."
"You hold your tongue," Jasmine snapped, and a gasp of pain from Becca made me wince. I felt her pain. Jasmine's nails were no joke. "You do not speak of the king in such a manner. In fact, you shouldn't speak of him at all unless you'd like to be fed to his pet dragon, Shirazan."
The whole kitchen went silent at that threat, and I hurried up the stairs. I'd heard rumors of the dragon. A large fae creature with wings that were the length of ten men and scales so hard that they could scratch a diamond. Shirazan was said to breathe fire, and the king was known to send her to eat anyone who defied him. I wasn't sure how valid those rumors were because I had yet to hear of anyone who had actually seen or been eaten by her. So, until I actually heard something legit, I wasn't too worried about it.
Besides, if the king was behind my hard days, then he was living up to his promise of torturing me to put me in my place. I highly doubted he would feed me to a dragon any time soon, and I would make sure that it wouldn't come to that.
Stomping up the stairs, my jaw tensed as I thought of how I could get the kitchen staff off my back and get back at the king. At least the servants seemed to be on my side. Well, those who weren't terrified of the king in any case. I surely could win them over some
how. I might be a klutz, but more people liked me than not back home, and I would like to think it was for my winning personality and not just my decadent pies. The gods knew it wasn't for any of my other cooking.
I snort laughed to myself as I walked down the hallway toward my room. I tried to think of today as a blessing in disguise. I could take a long bath, something I hadn't had time to do since I'd arrived. I could find the library, renowned for its vast collection, and then take an early dinner before going to bed.
Happy for my plan, a skip appeared in my steps. I hummed a little tune and skipped the rest of the way. At least, until I was brought up short by the figure waiting by my bedroom door.
Finch.
His dark hair curled around his shoulders, and his eyes were focused on the ground in front of him. That combined with the way his arms were crossed over his chest made him seem displeased with something. Frustrated.
"Lord Finch?" I slowly started for my room once more and stopped before him. "What are you doing here?" but then quickly added, "Not that you can't be here. I mean, this is more your home than mine. I supposed it would only make sense that you would be here."
Thankfully, Finch saved me from myself by placing a hand on my shoulder. Then he led me to my room and opened the door for me.
"Please, don't worry yourself, Ericka. You aren't in trouble. I promise." He offered me a broad smile that was just this side of too big. He was hiding something, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
When we stepped into my room, my suspicions grew. Inside stood a slim fae woman with a measuring tape in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She had one other set of arms beneath the first set, and her golden eyes were locked onto my form, measuring me with her eyes.
Finch ushered me over to the woman. "This is Odette. She will be fitting you for your new uniform."
"Uniform?" I frowned and looked down at the grayish blue skirt I wore with a long-sleeved white shirt. There wasn't a dress code for the kitchen, but this was what I'd worn back home for work, so I figured it would be okay. Apparently, I was mistaken.
Guessing my confusion, Finch chuckled. "What you are wearing is fine usually, but the king has some special guests tonight and would like you to help serve dinner."
At the mention of the king, my teeth ground together. "And he wants me to look the part, does he?"
Taken aback by my biting tone, Finch's eyes widened before he recovered himself, frowning slightly. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. We made sure your daily work was covered so this won't put you behind or anything."
"Oh, how nice of him." My voice oozed sarcasm as I turned from Finch to Odette. She stood with her back straight and her face even straighter. If she had any thoughts about my words or the way that Finch blanched, she didn't show it. Woman had a killer poker face.
"Yes, well." Finch cleared his throat and then adjusted the tie of his suit. Turning to Odette, he inclined his head. "This is Ericka. His Majesty would like her outfitted for tonight's dinner. Please make sure she is properly prepared."
Nodding to Finch, Odette gave a half courtesy before turning those golden eyes back onto me. Without warning, she was on me. Lifting an arm, wrapping the tape around my middle, and generally poking and prodding me. I gasped and glowered at her with she cupped my breasts through my shirt to get the size of them.
"Well, I will be heading back.” Finch shifted uncomfortably in place as he coughed into his hand. “Dinner is at seven. You will need to report to the dining room about six. If you have any questions, Luke will help you."
Before I could ask him, who was Luke and where could I find him, Finch hurried out of the room. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was embarrassed by the way Odette manhandled me, or it could just be the guilt radiating off him. Finch hadn't been lying per say. He believed everything he was telling me, but that wasn't much. To keep from lying was probably why he was keeping his mouth shut and making me wait to ask Luke. I glanced over my shoulder at Odette who was checking my hem line.
"You don't happen to know what's going on, do you?" I asked.
Odette kept her gaze on my body and for a moment, I thought she wasn't going to answer me. Then a small voice, barely above a whisper, came from her lips.
"Keep him entertained."
"Huh?" I arched to hear her better and got smacked on the leg for my effort. Wincing, I straightened back up. "You mean the king?"
"You have his interest, good,” Odette continued. “Keep it that way. If you value your life."
Her ominous words only made me frown harder. "I don't want his interest. I certainly don't plan on keeping him entertained. I'm a person, not a thing for his amusement."
"Oh, dear human.” She sniffed a laugh. “You are most amusing. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you will be fine."
I huffed, crossed my arms over my chest, and then got pinched for it in the process. Muttering under my breath of all the ways I would show the king how I amusing I was, I let Odette do her job without further movement.
It was just ridiculous. Didn't the king have anything better to do? Weren't there women for him to woo or courts to wage war with? Who had time to mess with a lowly human? I certainly never had that much time on my hands. I spent most of my days working in my parents’ shop and then we had to prep the dough for the next day's bread. Any spare time I had went into reading or taking a bath. I certainly didn't have much time for dating. Not that anyone had caught my eye.
There was one human boy once when I was sixteen who had been interested in me. Well, I'd been interested in him as well, but more in a curious way. He liked to watch me bake and smelled like dandelions and sweet grass. I think he worked in the fields. He came around for a while never asking me out or even talking to me more than just to say hello. Then, one day, when I had the courage to talk to him myself, I had one of my accidents. Safe to say that after catching his shirt on fire, he didn't come around anymore.
"Done." Odette stepped away from me, holding a knee length dress of crimson in her hands. It had long sleeves and a scoop neck. The material was smooth and shimmery beneath my fingers. A ribbon in a slightly lighter shade of red wrapped around the middle of it, no doubt to tie in the back when worn.
"Oh, Odette. It's lovely." My mouth formed an o as I praised it. "How did you make it so fast?"
"It's what I do.” Odette shrugged. “I can create any kind of clothing in a matter of moments. I just need the right measurements. You're easy. Now, dressing the king's head of council..." She covered her mouth as she let out a little giggle. "That's another story."
I smiled back at her before taking the dress over to the bed. "Thank you so much. I love it. I just wish it wasn't to serve him." I made a face that caused Odette to laugh softly.
"Things aren't always the way we want them to be," she told me mysteriously as she walked toward the bedroom door. She paused and looked back at me. "That goes the same for people, but sometimes they're exactly what we need."
Curious at her words but unable to ask her what she meant before she left, I glanced up at the clock. I still had a few hours before I had to be down in the dining room, just enough time to take a long and relaxing bath. I was going to need it for the night ahead. I just knew it.
Chapter 7
Ericka
I tugged at the sleeves of my dress, fidgeting in place. How did I get stuck with a job like this? I was a baker not a server. I'd never served anyone in my life, let alone a bunch of royals.
Sighing dejectedly, I pulled at the sleeves once more.
"Are you alright?" Luke asked, his face the image of concern.
My eyes moved from the dining table currently being set for six and slid over to the faun. He had curly brown hair with two small horns on either side of his head. Pointed ears peaked out from the curls and a pert nose poked out right in the middle of his face. He was cute for a faun. Luke sure filled out the button-down shirt and vest that matched my crimson dress, though I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to ge
t passed the hooved feet and furry legs. I liked hair but that much just teased the line of bestiality for me. Still, there were women who loved it. Faun were big womanizers. It was their chocolatey voice and music I was sure.
"Oh, don't worry about me.” I waved him off with a sheepish smile. “I'm fine."
He gave me a mischievous wink and leaned next to me where we stood against the dining room wall. "Not your usual scene huh?"
"Is it that obvious?" Laughing nervously, I scratched the side of my face.
"I bet you are wondering the same as everyone else." He shrugged.
"And what's that?"
"Why the king requested your presence, of course." He glanced back to the table being set up, his arms crossed over his chest. Luke was in charge of making sure everything was perfect for His Majesty. Apparently, the bastard king was as much of a pain about a fork placement as he was about everything else. Normally, I'd misalign everything just to piss him off, but I didn't want to get anyone else in trouble. I was having enough problems making friends as it was. Letting out a long drawn out breath of air, I shook my head and closed my eyes.
"I don't know why he's doing this to me,” I complained. “I can hardly say I deserve it. I'm a baker for crying out loud and not even that good of one."
Luke hummed a long minute and then snapped his fingers turning to me. "Maybe he has a crush."
"What?" I screeched, a sound that caused the other workers to stop what they were doing and stare over at us. Offering an apologetic smile to the others, I then lowered my voice and turned to Luke. "Why would you think that? I threw a pie in his face. If anything, he wants to kill me. Slowly. With a butter knife."
“Well, I can't blame him.” Luke chuckled in an adorable way that made the women workers all swoon as he dragged a hand through his already unruly hair. "Though it would depend on the kind of pie."
"It was blueberry," I interjected like it mattered.