Anger burned in the king's eyes. "So you are no longer my concubine. You never were, in fact. There's no need for you to attend afternoon lectures. You are to spend your afternoons washing, as well as your mornings. As soon as I can arrange it you will be transferred to Madame Cawrocc for resale."
The last time she'd seen Cawrocc, she'd tried to choke her. After Cawrocc killed her, if she was lucky, what was left of her would be sold to Jadin to be handed over to the prince. The prince! He was the one who set up the trip to the museum. He knew the Deliverance Day people were there. He must have sent the king there. "Your Majesty, the prince—"
He waved to silence her. "I'll put it into the ears of the tale-bearers that I've grown tired of the game we've been playing. I took you only because I wanted to hurt my nephew. I knew how much he wanted you and I wanted to remind him, in public, that I had power over him. But now I let you go, laughing over the whole thing. He can have you now."
"You can't mean that!"
"You've brought this on yourself. See Provocation when you are done with your work tonight, and she'll show you to the maid's quarters."
"How did word reach you? Your majesty while you were gone the prince told me he wanted to take me to a feast. He had some ... some plan. That's why I didn't do the washing. I've been hiding from him for two weeks. And he's the one who told Skoch to take us to the museum. I wasn't there to meet the Deliverance Day people. How could I have orchestrated a trip into the city? He must have started this rumor to get me into trouble."
"The prince is taking much pleasure in my disgrace. There can be no doubt. He sent word to me to go into the Village Circle. He's been watching you and he's taken great pleasure in telling me of all your many trips to the stables. And he's handing those stories to many others besides me, we can be sure. If the people find me ridiculous and believe he's been running the kingdom, his popularity will grow." He coughed and took a swig from his flak.
"Oh, yes, the prince is making the most of my humiliation. But he's not the one that started the rumor. You told someone. The look on your face when I asked, said as much." He sighed. "I've told you before that your expressions always betray you."
"But the prince—" She pictured his leering face. "You might as well kill me."
"No!" he yelled, pointing a finger at her. His face was red and his hand was shaking. "You might as well have killed me. In making me look ridiculous, you've given the prince power over me that he never had before had. The troopers won't follow a weak leader. And you have done more to weaken me in two weeks than the prince has been able to do in ten years. You've handed me to my enemies."
"I never told your enemies. I swear to you."
Just Sober.
He was no enemy.
The face of the friend and the face of the betrayer often appear the same. Both men will look at you, sincerity burning in their eyes. One is a lover and one is a leech. One is true and one is an actor. And how can you tell between them?
~Lady Dannik, After the Curtain Call
Chapter 23
It took the prince all of fifteen minutes to find Repentance after the king had dismissed her.
She was on the stairs, heading for the fifth floor with a basket of suncloths.
Stunned. Not sure what she was going to do—how she could convince the king—when she turned a corner on a landing and came face-to-face with the prince.
"I was just up on the fifth floor looking for you," he said, leering. "You can never keep a secret in the palace, Repentance. Now you know."
She hugged the basket to her chest, bracing herself.
Lord Malficc smiled. "But don't you worry. I have no intention of letting you go back to Madame Cawrocc. My uncle is barbaric to suggest such a thing. I'll buy you myself."
"Excuse me. I need to hang these suncloths."
He didn't move. "It's a good thing the truth came out. Now I don't have to kill you as I'd planned."
She gasped and stepped back. "Me? I thought the king—"
"Well, I wasn't going to kill you myself. I was going to order it done, of course." He reached out and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "Far be it from me to watch the life drain from such a lovely face."
She shrank back, keeping the basket between them.
He shrugged. "Still, it was a good plan. My uncle would not have said a word against me, for you were to be found dead in another man's bed after a feast where you were flaunting your infidelity. I was going to explain that I'd ordered your execution to protect his reputation. All your hours spent with the stable boy and the farmer worked perfectly for my plan. The more you were seen with them by the other servants, the more believable your affair with a certain nobleman would have been. It was a perfect plan—to kill you two and put you in bed together. I'd have been rid of you both. I've been wanting to kill him for years. An honest man who has never played well with my troopers.
He spoke of her murder with such coldness. As if taking her life would be no more difficult than squashing an irritating gnat. "Why kill me?"
She backed away from him. Two steps.
He stepped forward. "Well I couldn't very well kill the king. I already told you. If I'd have killed him, the people would have rebelled. Though, thanks to you, I'm in a much stronger position now than I was in last week. The king is a laughing stock now."
She cringed.
"And I didn't need to kill him. What did it matter if he toddled around the palace, pretending to be king? I ran the kingdom. But you came and he suddenly got some life in his half-dead carcass. He started to defy me. Told me I couldn't invade Westwold. Where did he get the energy to meddle, all of a sudden, I asked myself."
He reached out and caressed her hair. "What kind of magic did his new concubine work? I thought you were giving him something in the night. I thought you were like medicinal herbs, bringing him to life."
She took another step back.
"It certainly looked like you were his concubine, doing him a service," the prince continued. "He was happier than I've ever seen him. And what, I wondered, would I do if you produced an heir? Half-breed or not, I couldn't chance it. The king loved you and likely he'd love any ill-bred brat you conceived, as well."
Repentance fought down a gag. The king never loved her. She was a slave. He was an overlord.
"But then I found out you were giving him nothing in the night. I found out that there would be no heir. And, happily, I didn't have to have you killed. I simply had to make sure the story of the king's infirmity spread. He looks the fool and you are thrown out. But don't fear, Repentance. I will take you in."
"Thank you, your majesty. I'm happy to go to the slave quarters." Surely Sober hadn't told the prince. But he had to have told someone. The prince must have spies in the Deliverance Day people. "May I leave now?" She spoke quietly, not wanting him to think she was challenging his authority. "I need to get to my work."
He stepped forward, seized the basket, and threw it aside.
Suncloths tumbled onto the floor, landing in a tangled heap. Like her life.
"Now that I don't have to kill you," the prince said, "we might take some entertainment."
She threw her hands up, bracing them against his chest. "I'm too busy for entertainment."
He took her hands and put them on his waist. "You'll be busy, alright."
She pushed against him, backing away.
He followed.
She bumped into the wall.
He bumped into her—pressed himself against her—and, grabbing a handful of hair, he pulled her head back, tilting her face up toward his.
She twisted sideways, moving her mouth away from his.
"Ah, pretty little ear." He bent toward her.
Then caught his breath.
He pulled her head farther back.
She strained to look out of the corner of her eye.
He had an angry look on his face. He seemed to be looking at her birthmark. All praise to Providence! So he really did hate blemishes,
just as the attendant had told her on her first day on the mountain.
Then he kissed her behind her ear. Right on top of the birthmark. When he pulled away, he looked at her as if searching for something in her eyes. "I can't finish this today, I'm sorry to say. But soon, Repentance. I'll be back to make you forget about the King. And the farmer."
He left her.
She slid to the floor, landing in a trembling pile. He was gone. By the grace of Providence, he was gone. Relief and pent-up fear coursed through her and burst forth into racking sobs. He was gone. He was gone.
But he would be back.
When she entered the kitchen at lunchtime, the other servants stopped talking and looked at their plates as if eating took all their concentration. Generosity scooted over to make room for her on the bench. "Sit by me, my Lady."
"I'm not a lady."
"I'm sorry. The foot falls easily on the well-worn path," Generosity said. "But I'm glad you are still here, my La—Repentance. I feared for your life this morning. And I'm giving it true. I prayed for you, though, and Providence answered."
Repentance sighed. If Providence really did exist, he had an odd way of answering prayers. But she said nothing. She had no need to take Generosity's faith from her. Besides, she'd said a few prayers of her own during the morning, just in case, so she had no room to hold Generosity in disdain.
She ate in silence. As talk picked up around her, she listened with one corner of her mind and worried with another.
Could she tell the King that the prince had planned to kill her? Would he listen to her? The king had been kind to her—much kinder than Cawrocc or Jadin or Lord Malficc. But he was kind to all his slaves. The truth was that he was an overlord. He treated his slaves well, yes, but when it came down to it, he saw them as equal to yaks. He gave them the best of barns and the best of food, but Providence forbid that they ever refuse to pull his wagon. He'd carve a yak into roasts if it dared refuse a command. He couldn't look weak, after all.
And she had made him look weak.
But, how had the prince found out? Surely Sober didn't tell him.
Across the table from Repentance, Shamed pushed his plate away and stood. "You have cups of soup for Sober and Calamity today, Cook? I'll take them out to the vegetable shed."
Sober!
It felt like days—not hours—since she'd sat with him on the bench in the Village Circle. She needed to see him. She could ask him why he told. And who.
"Calamity and Sober have already come and gone," Cook said. She glanced at Repentance. "They were early today."
Repentance frowned. He'd betrayed her! She was in trouble, it was Sober's fault, and he didn't even have the decency to talk to her about it.
"Early?" Shamed scratched his head. "I did see them pull to a half hour ago. Same as always. When they didn't come in, I figured I'd take their cups of soup out to them."
"You figured off-center, then." Cook said. "They came and went early today and you've no reason to figure on it anymore."
Repentance spent the next half hour figuring on it, though. Wondering, as she took down her suncloths from their drying rack, what Sober was playing at.
She didn't stop figuring on it until she headed upstairs with her basket. As she placed her foot on the bottom step, fear over what awaited her at the top drove all thoughts of Sober from her mind.
But that afternoon Providence smiled on her. Or something like that. The prince did not return to make good on his promise to drive the king and the farmer from her thoughts.
At the end of the day, exhausted, more from the strain of the worry than the work she'd done, she made her way to the kitchen, where she ate dinner as quietly as she'd eaten lunch.
After dinner she tucked her chapped hands into her work smock pocket and followed Generosity to her new room. It was a little room with meager furnishings—a bed, a nightstand, a washbasin. No window. No fire. No pictures carved into the walls.
But she was alive.
There was that.
She fell into the bed thinking she'd not be able to sleep for worry over the prince. She planned to think through a defense. She would just rest her head on the pillow for a minute first.
"Time to get up." Generosity shook her gently.
Opening her eyes, Repentance attempted to focus in the dim room.
Generosity tucked Repentance's hair back. "I was thinking," she said. "Maybe this is a gift from Providence. You can button Sober Marsh, now."
Repentance slapped her hand away. "I'm not buttoning Sober Marsh. What would put such a thought in your head?" Generosity. She was so much like Comfort. Blind to the realities of slavery.
"I've seen how he looks at you. And how he looks when he talks about you. Talk about eyes-only!"
"When was he talking about me? Yesterday? He spread rumors about me quicker than water freezes on a wall."
"I didn't mean that. He'd never spread rumors about you. I'm sure of it."
"Someone did."
She dragged herself from bed, washed with a cold, damp rag, pulled on her work smock, and headed to the kitchen.
Breakfast was good, anyway. Hot pork sausage with fried potatoes. Cook took care of the servants.
Repentance worked all morning, looking over her shoulder at every sound, fearing the prince.
He never arrived.
At lunch, Calamity shuffled into the kitchen.
He never came on Tuesdays, but Repentance didn't care about that. She wanted to see Sober. She couldn't help but hope that he hadn't purposely betrayed her.
Behind Calamity came a young man, slouching into the kitchen on feet too large for his thin legs.
"Who's this one?" Cook asked, eyeing the stranger.
"This here's Belligerence," the old man said.
"Sober is sick, then?"
"Took ill of a sudden yesterday," the old man said. "We're here today to collect Friday's order, since we left yesterday without getting it.
Repentance settled back onto the bench. Sick! He was afraid to face her, that's what. Maybe no good explanation existed. Sober might have just plain betrayed her.
He'd said he wanted Tigen to sit on the throne. And his mistress was one of those Deliverance Day people. Maybe Sober was involved in some kind of plot and Repentance had given information to the king's enemies, after all.
The prince didn't make an appearance in the afternoon. Repentance finished her workday and went wearily, but thankfully, down to dinner. The table was full when she arrived. All the regulars were there. Three stable boys, Reticent, Shamed, and Blustering—all younger than Repentance by a couple of years. The four unbuttoned maids were there as well. Generosity and the three older ones—Biased, Blessed, and Forthright. The footmen, also, Meekness and Favor. And Merit, Cook's helper, who was, as Generosity had said, eyes-only for Favor and was barely aware anyone else was alive.
All the other servants, the ones who were buttoned, took meals with their own families in their own quarters.
Generosity waved to Repentance and motioned for her to sit between herself and Favor.
Favor grinned up at her.
She sighed as she squeezed between him and Generosity. She just wanted to be left alone. She was so tired. Tired of trying to figure out how to stay alive and who she should align herself with in order to save her sister and brothers. Tired of being forced here and there at the whims of others. And she was tired of men grinning and gaping.
"I'm sorry you've fallen on hard times," Favor said.
"What would you know about my times?"
He shrugged. "You've moved from the queen's chamber to the servants' quarters. Things can't be going well. And you sat with a world-weary sigh. But at least the prince is willing good fortune on you." He passed her the bread basket. "Things must improve now. He's a powerful man, and it's always good to have that kind of man as a friend and not an enemy."
"He's what?"
"A powerful man. Didn't you know? He's possibly more powerful than the king, now
."
She shook her head. "You said he was willing me …?" She took a piece of bread and passed the basket on to Generosity.
"Ah. He's willing you good fortune. I heard the prince talking when he and his friends left in the carriage today."
She waited while he took a bite of pork roast.
"And?" she asked when he made to take a second bite.
He looked at her perplexed, his fork poised halfway to his mouth.
"What exactly did the prince say?"
"Lord Dahner said it would be simple enough to charge you with a crime and hand you over to the swingman."
His words slammed into her with such force that she almost fell off the bench. Why kill her? The prince knew now she was never going to provide the king with an heir.
"And the prince said he had no intention of letting you swing. He would fix the problem with the king, and you could move back to the queen's chamber." He shoveled in a bite of pork roast.
"Where did the prince go?" Repentance asked. "When he left in the carriage today, I mean."
Favor shook his head but said nothing, his mouth full.
Merit came up behind him and bent over his shoulder to put more roast on his empty plate.
He rewarded her with a grateful smile.
Repentance sat silent while her heart slowed back to its normal tempo. Yesterday the prince had been overjoyed to find that she was no longer the king's concubine. Why would he fix things with the king so she could have the queen's chamber back?
She could be sure of one thing—Favor was wrong to think the prince was willing good fortune on her.
Coincidence or Providence? Which lights my darkest hour?
Does He order my day? Choose my way?
Stoop to save me by His power?
~Repentance Atwater, The Fawlin Palace Poetry Collection
Chapter 24
After dinner, the slaves settled in for their regular evening activities, bringing out the games and the tatting and the books. As usual, several of the buttoned slaves joined them.
The Button Girl Page 19