by Jill Myles
The guard waved a third man to fetch Lady Mila and refocused his attention on Seri. “If we find out you’re lying, how are you going to make up for wasting my time, little wild girl?” He ran a finger down her arm. “Been a few moons since me and the boys have tasted a woman.”
Seri jerked backward, averting her gaze. She prayed that Lady Mila was not simply teasing her with promises she had no intention of keeping.
“So is it true that Vidari don’t kneel to anyone? Because if you’re going to be in the castle, little deer, you’ll have to kneel to the prince.” The guard’s eyes were hot on her. “The Athonites insist that you kneel to your betters to show them respect. In fact, I could have you kneel right now, couldn’t I?”
Oh Gods. She remained silent, trying to ignore him.
“Look at me,” the guard said, grasping her arm. “Why don’t you kneel for me right now?”
“Vidari only kneel to the gods themselves,” she said, her voice stiff as she wrenched her arm from his. “Not to men.”
“Crazy pagans,” he said with a laugh. “Dozens of gods looking out for your poor, downtrodden little people.”
Seri could argue that they only worshipped four gods—one for each of the seasons—but to the Athonites, that was three too many, so she pressed her lips together and remained silent.
“I’ve heard,” the guard said, leaning in, his fetid breath hot against her neck, “that you Vidari girls like to be taken roughly . . . and you fight the whole time. I think I’d like that—”
“Faren,” the third guard spoke up, returning. “Lady Mila is here.”
The guard straightened and turned away from Seri, then bowed. “Lady de Vray,” he said, stepping away. “We did not think that she was telling the truth—”
“What you think is not my concern.” Lady Mila de Vray stood on the other side of the gates, wearing a flowing silk dress of pure white. Three women lingered behind her, fussing over her skirt. She looked cool and fresh, impervious to the muddy filth in the courtyard. With an imperious tilt of her head, she stared at the guardsman, waiting.
He grabbed the wheel at the gate and began to turn it, cranking the portcullis up so she could exit. Her ladies fluttered behind her, holding the delicate hem of her dress out of the mud. With a sweeping look, Lady Mila moved past the guards and toward Seri.
Lady Mila’s gaze rested on Seri. “My newest handmaiden is here, I see. I should like for her to be stripped of these rags and cleaned. Then you may escort her to my apartments.”
A grin broke across the soldier’s face, just as panic set into Seri’s heart. “Yes, lady,” he announced, terrible pleasure in his voice.
“Not you, fool,” Lady Mila barked.
The man stared in surprise, then touched his forehead in respect.
Lady Mila’s gaze swept over her three women, and then she snapped her fingers and pointed at the pinched-faced maid who’d been with her the night before. “Winna, strip the wild girl of these rags and get her cleaned.” She turned to the youngest maid. “Kiane, bring a fresh set of maid’s clothes to the horse stables, then escort her to my apartments. I do not trust these wild lands.” With a haughty sniff, Lady Mila disappeared back into the palace gates, trailed by her retinue.
Winna remained behind, her black hair pulled up severely on her head and an austere, arrogant expression on her face, so similar to her lady’s.
“Well?” She regarded Seri as though she were a stray dog. “Filth does not clean itself. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can dress you in something less vulgar.”
The handmaiden’s dress, Seri noted, was long, its collar high and tight. Her skin was hidden from the chin down, and tiny beads of sweat glimmered on her forehead. She looked hot and miserable.
You’re doing this for your people, Seri reminded herself. For information . . . and for the three dru. She nodded and pasted a fake smile on her face. “I am ready to serve.”
“Again.” Winna instructed Seri for the third time, dumping another bucket of water over her head and giving her soap. “Wash your skin again. It still looks dirty.”
Seri’s skin smarted after being scrubbed so many times. She handed the soap back to Winna, trying to keep the expression on her face pleasant. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is my natural color. Not dirt.” The strongest Athonite soap in the land wouldn’t change her sunbrowned skin to a milky night pale like Winna’s.
In response, the handmaiden snorted inelegantly and tossed another bucket of water in Seri’s face. “If you want to remain covered in filth, so be it.”
She shoved her wet hair out of her eyes and scowled at Winna. “I assure you that I bathe on a regular basis. This is—” She struggled to find a polite word. “—Unnecessary.”
Just then, Lady Mila’s youngest handmaiden poked her head into the stable, a pile of clothing in her arms. “Winna, I have the uniform if you’d like to get back to your duties.”
“Thank the Goddess.” Winna dropped the bucket with a clang. “Show her to her quarters first, then come back to the lady’s chambers.”
The girl nodded and stepped aside to let Winna exit. Seri sighed in relief when the stable door swung shut behind her.
“I’m Kiane,” the brown-haired maid said with a welcoming smile, passing Seri a towel. She looked down at Seri’s feet. “Do you have any shoes?”
“No,” Seri said.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to hope these fit,” Kiane said cheerily, holding up a pair of brown work boots.
After dressing in the starchy gray dress with a high collar, Seri walked behind Kiane into the castle. Her feet pinched in her new shoes, and her eyes watered from the harsh soap they’d used on her hair.
“The servants’ quarters are this way,” Kiane said, steering them toward a narrow staircase.
Seri had never been inside the castle before. Rilen, Jovis, and Kasmar had played in the ruins when they were children, but Seri had always been too timid to join them. The winding halls were an utter maze she was certain she’d never find her way through without guidance. The ceiling was high overhead, the stone walls painted with a fresco of soldiers locked in an ancient, bloody battle. The battle scene made her uneasy. She could all too easily imagine Rilen as one of the soldiers with a spear upraised.
“Keep to the center of the hall,” Kiane said, pulling Seri away when she walked too close to the walls. She pointed at the sconces that were spaced evenly between the curtained windows. “You’ll get dripped on.”
Though it was the middle of the day, all the windows were covered with thick tapestries, flickering candles providing the only light. It felt like walking into a cave . . . or an Athonite tomb. She shivered. “Do Athonites not like the sunlight?” Seri asked. Perhaps they feared it would turn them as brown as herself.
Kiane glanced back at her. “The Blood are in residence. Some of the servants keep daylight hours, but the rest work at night to serve the nobles.”
Seri wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but as Kiane led her through the servants’ quarters, she tried to memorize the things the servant told her about the castle. The room with the red door was storage for linens. This narrow hall led to another wing of servants’ quarters. That one led to the barracks. There were three kitchens for the sprawling castle, but only one actually served the nobility. The rest was for retaining staff and soldiers.
“As a servant, am I allowed to go . . . anywhere?” Seri asked, peering down a dark hallway.
“Anywhere that Lady Mila should need you to go,” Kiane said. “Just be on the lookout for rooms with guards in front of them.”
Seri turned to look at the girl. “Why?”
“Those will be inhabited by the prince.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Seri. “And he’s not the type who likes to be disturbed.”
“The prince?” Seri asked slowly, heart hammering. So it w
as true then. The prince had arrived. “Aren’t there two princes?”
Kiane nodded at a pair of women rushing past with their arms full of dresses. “Prince Velair and Prince Graeme. Lady Mila is currently spending her time in Prince Graeme’s court, which is why we are here in the wilds.”
Finally they stopped at a tapestry-covered archway, and Kiane pushed it aside. “Doors have been ordered, I’m told, but not all have arrived yet.” They entered the room and Kiane gave a small sigh. “Here we are. I know it’s not much to look at, but we don’t get to decide such things, do we?”
Seri didn’t reply. The chamber was enormous, six cots neatly lined up, three to each side. A fireplace in one corner of the room crackled with warmth. Kiane might not think much of it, but it was the nicest room Seri had every stayed in. The linens on the bed were of good quality, there was no draft, and she didn’t have to share the bed.
“Here, this is yours,” Kiane said, bustling to one of the cots. “There’s a hook for your dresses, and a shelf for your belongings. We share the room with Lady Mila’s other four servants.”
“Including Winna?” Seri asked hesitantly.
Kiane laughed. “No, thank the Goddess. She sleeps in a small chamber just off Lady Mila’s suite. My lady needs someone close by at all times.”
“There’s that, at least.” Seri set her bag down on the corner of the bed and unwrapped her shawl. She took out the small carved symbols of the gods and gently placed them on the shelf. As she hung her dress on the wall hook, her stomach rumbled loudly.
Kiane giggled. “Hungry, then?”
“A bit,” Seri said with a weak laugh. She’d tried to eat as little of the stew as possible so Father and Josdi would have enough to get through the sevenday.
“I have to take you to see Lady Mila,” Kiane said, “but afterward shall we go to the kitchens and get you a bite to eat?”
“That’d be lovely.”
Kiane gave her a knowing smile. “It’s a good place to meet other servants and get information.”
“I-information?” Seri cleared her throat. Was she that obvious?
Kiane giggled again and slipped her arm through Seri’s, leading her back out of the room. “Yes. Information. Gossip. It’s what makes the castle go round. Nothing’s more exciting than finding out which lady has thrown a tantrum because she wore the same color gown in front of the prince twice.”
Seri gave her a faint smile, relieved that she hadn’t given herself away. But resentment bubbled inside her. While she was outside tending her geese, while Josdi sat in the dark creating pillows from scraps, while her father lay dying, the Athonite women spent their days discarding expensive dresses and gossiping.
Perhaps the Athonite goddess was more powerful than the Vidari gods after all. Her people certainly seemed to lead charmed lives.
* * *
Lady Mila’s apartments were on the other side of the keep, in a wide hallway with thick carpets and gilded moldings. Guardsmen lingered in the halls, silently overseeing the richly dressed men and ladies who frequented the suites.
Kiane came to a stop outside a large double door made of wood. While the servants might have to make do with a tapestry for privacy, Lady Mila of course had the finest the castle could offer. They knocked, and Winna opened the door. The woman gave Seri a cold look.
“Finally.” She nodded at them to follow her inside the immense apartment, which was larger than the barn that housed Rilen’s livestock. Silk lined the walls, red and blue area rugs covered the marble floor, and a brazier glowed at the end of a large dais, upon which sat a heavy canopied bed. It was here that Lady Mila relaxed, gently fanned by a servant as she nibbled on a pear.
She perked up at the sight of Kiane and Seri and swung her legs off the edge of the bed, sauntering over with a yawn. “All settled in now? Ready to start being my pet wildling?”
Kiane bowed at the sight of Lady Mila. Seri offered the woman a faint smile and remained still. When Kiane curtsied again as a hint, and then looked at Seri, Seri’s smile grew a little more forced, a little stiffer. Winna turned and cast Seri a reproachful look.
If anything, the gleeful look on Lady Mila’s face increased. “You will not bow?”
Seri’s breath caught in her throat. “I will not.”
“Excellent,” Mila said, her eyes gleaming. “That will catch the prince’s eye if nothing else. Lady Aynee shall not be able to compete.”
“Lady Aynee is important?” Seri asked, filing the name away.
Mila gave Seri a cross look. “The prince thinks so, but not the rest of us, and not for much longer. She has been his lover for some moons now, which means that he should kick her from his bed once his hunger appears again.”
“And you wish to replace her,” Seri said carefully.
The lady smiled smugly. “I intend to flaunt my beauty before him at the Betrothal Ball and catch his eye once and for all. Lady Aynee is but a lesser noble, after all, and I am the daughter of a great and powerful landowner.” She looked Seri up and down, taking in her gray uniform. “You look almost civilized.”
“Why, thank you,” Seri said in a dry voice.
“I don’t like it.” Lady Mila tilted her head. “The whole idea is for you to be a savage.” She shrugged her shoulders. “For now, I suppose servant clothing will do. I have something more spectacular planned for the ceremony itself.”
And then, with a flick of the elegant lady’s wrist, Seri was dismissed.
Seri sat in the kitchens, eating stew and buttered rolls. There was plenty of food to be had in the castle kitchens for both servant and lord alike. The talk was free and loose, though with the exception of Kiane, the other servants did not speak directly to her—her darker skin marked her apart as did her manners. Seri mopped the last of her stew with a biscuit, listening as the women around her gossiped about the upcoming Betrothal Ceremony and the ladies at the castle who had arrived to try their luck at winning the prince’s interest.
“Here,” a friendly voice called out, and Seri looked up into the smiling face of a kitchen maid. The woman nudged a new bowl in front of her. “You look like you could use a bit more to eat. Are all your people as skinny as yourself?”
Kiane giggled. “She’s already eaten two bowls.”
“Then one more will not be amiss.” The woman grinned. There was a wide gap between her front teeth, and she had frizzy brown hair and freckles.
Seri took the bowl gratefully. “Those who cannot afford to eat well, yes, they’re as skinny as myself.” Seri took a spoonful, then hesitated. She moved to the fire and cast the contents of the spoon in, saying a quick thank you to the gods for the bounty of food.
Kiane shook her head, having seen this twice already, but the new woman’s brows furrowed. “Something wrong with the stew?”
“Oh, no,” Seri said. “First bite’s always for the gods.”
“Huh.” The gap-toothed woman shrugged. “Plenty to go around, I suppose. I’m Idalla. Got here just a few weeks ago in preparation for the lord’s coming. You’re one of the . . . locals?”
“Vidari,” Seri confirmed. “My name is Seri. We were here before the lords came,” she said, trying to keep the sour note out of her voice. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that the Athonite kings had decided to conquer Vidari lands. “Will you follow when the prince and his court leave again?”
Idalla laughed. “Oh, the prince is not leaving. Mark my words: He’s here to stay.”
Seri’s stomach churned. Athonites here . . . forever?
“You don’t know that. Lady Mila keeps talking about how she can’t wait to get back to civilization. The court won’t stand for an extended stay.”
“They may not, but the prince will. Too many uprisings in the area,” Idalla prattled on. “My husband’s good friends with one of the troop leaders. He says the prince is here to take a firm hand with the
. . . natives.” Her friendly look faltered. “My apologies.”
“It’s all right. Common folk like you and I have nothing to do with the wars of the nobility. Where have the uprisings been?” Seri licked her lips nervously. If the Athonites had heard of the uprisings, Rilen and Jovis’s rebellion would be dead before it ever started.
“Only the Goddess knows,” Idalla said with a shrug. “In any case, some say it’s just an excuse for Prince Graeme to exit court. He’s always been a solitary one. But the soldiers will be here for at least six moons, the prince has made that quite clear. When asked if he plans on returning to court, he always changes the topic.” She raised her eyebrows at them as if to say, see?
“Lady Mila’s not going to like the thought of that,” Kiane said. “She hates it here.”
Idalla pulled up a stool next to Seri and Kiane. “I told my husband that I wanted nothing to do with the new castle, but he likes to serve the prince—one of his stable masters, my husband is—and so if the prince is off to the wild lands, well, so are we.” She nodded as if that was decided and reached for a warm biscuit, tearing it apart and taking a bite. “So what brings one of your kind to the midst of ours? I can’t think you’d be happy to see us here.”
“I’m not,” Seri acknowledged. “But Lady Mila offered me three dru to be her servant for the sevenday, so I could not pass up the offer.”
“Three dru?” Idalla whistled, and Kiane nodded. “That’s a hefty sum, though I imagine it’s cheap change to one of her kind. They say her father owns more lands that the king himself, though I can’t see how that’s possible. So you’re just here until the ceremony, then?”
Seri nodded. “I’m afraid that the whole ceremony is a bit mystifying to me.” She glanced at Kiane. “When the Vidari decide to marry, we wait for the Spring Festival and handfast in front of the community.”
“Handfast?”
“We join hands in front of our fathers, and they sew the hems of our handfasting costumes together. It’s very romantic.”
“Sewing your hems together?” Kiane giggled. “Really?”