Winterbourne's Daughter Page 6

"When the coup happened, she had just grown big enough to start riding."

  "She had two calves last year."

  Lisette grinned. "They must be perfect."

  "Just like their mother." Mistress Emeline smiled as well but then looked away. "I fear that Ilari is going to get in trouble again."

  "I expect nothing less," Lisette said.

  "I'll bring you more food," she offered. "It won't be complicated at all; I eat alone every day." She wasn't quite a royal, but her designation as Mistress made her higher in rank than the loyalists. So she ate after King Nazar and her daughter, while the loyalists bustled about in the hall, waiting for her to leave. "You're in the bondservants' quarters?"

  "Yes. But as much as I appreciate your offer, my Mistress, it would not be proper for you to visit there." Despite the fact that she dearly wanted her to, Lisette admitted. As a child, her mother and fathers often had to get after her for being too rambunctious. She couldn't imagine such a descriptor ever being applied to Emeline. The Royal Mistress was lovely in a soft, serene way, and she'd never once seen her so much as frown, let alone lose her temper or laugh too loud. She was fascinating.

  "That is true. Then you can come to visit me."

  "I don't know if―"

  "I will leave a pearl," Emeline said. "In the gap in the stone at the bottom of my door, on the left side. Then you'll know that it's safe for you to visit."

  She sounded so hopeful that Lisette relented. If she was caught associating with the Mistress, then yes, she would be beaten. But Emeline clearly wanted so much to try and make things right... Lisette couldn't bear to crush that impulse. Nor could she resist the chance to speak with Emeline further, when it was a chance so eagerly given. "All right."

  *~*~*

  Lisette stumbled towards her room, dirt caked under her fingernails, wishing she could once again just call someone to bring up hot water for a bath before she fell into bed.

  Of course, now she understood what a chore lugging all that water around was.

  She yawned, and then paused when she heard an odd noise.

  Someone was crying.

  Lisette told herself to walk on―she'd been worked hard yesterday and the day before that and would be worked even harder tomorrow; she needed some rest―but her feet only took her three more steps toward the bondservants' quarters before she stopped at the other door, leaning against it for an uncertain moment.

  It was Emeline's door.

  Yes, she had once been her attendant, but such things simply entailed lessons on workings in the palace. It didn't extend to bothering her in the middle of the night.

  Even if the pearl was wedged into the gap between bricks.

  Whatever her reasoning for the intrusion, Sidonie would have her whipped at the very least if she went inside.

  Had she known the headmistress of the servants treated them all so poorly, she would've asked her parents to dismiss her at once. Granted, Father Thibault would've chuckled and told her not to worry about such things, but at least it would've been an effort made.

  Lisette opened the door a tiny crack, whispering. "Mistress? All you all right?"

  "I'm all right," she said, her voice thin and broken. "Lisette?"

  "Yes," she admitted, moving into the room and quietly shutting the door behind her. "Are you hurt?"

  "No," Emeline said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

  "No need to apologize, Mistress," Lisette said.

  "Please, call me Emeline."

  Lisette hesitated. "All right," she said. "Emeline."

  "Thank you. Was it... was it tiresome for you to have so few people meet your eyes? To have almost everyone you saw day-to-day be so careful to not fully acknowledge you're here?"

  "I didn't think much about it then," Lisette said. "And I had full plates of food every day, which made up for a lot."

  "Of course," Emeline said. "I know I shouldn't complain so. But..."

  "That isn't how I meant it," Lisette said. "The fact that I have problems doesn't mean that yours disappear."

  "I've borne him a child," Emeline said after a moment. "That comes with a certain amount of power, but I can't help but feel I'm only tolerated here. He constantly brings loyalists or servants to his rooms. I dare not complain; I'm afraid he would send me to Grisha. Is it true that the first thing he does is take out your eyes?"

  "No," Lisette said. She'd only spoken to Grisha a handful of times, when she had been down in the dungeons awaiting her deathfight. If he didn't greet prisoners by removing their eyes, it was only because he'd thought up something worse. However, she didn't want to terrify the poor woman. "I'm sure the king wouldn't send you to him." Except she wasn't sure at all, and the uncertainty must have shone through in her voice, because Emeline just laughed quietly.

  "They put me in this room," she said. "And a mistress is supposed to be intelligent and sophisticated, so there's that wall of books. I was never taught how to read. I've entertained loyalists here and some fully believe I'm the woman this room says. They seem so happy to meet me. And I honestly don't know which is worse. Those people because I let them believe a lie, or the ones who realize it's a game and just smile at me like I'm the kingdom's biggest fool." She shook her head. "I tell myself it doesn't matter. And I don't suppose it does, but―"

  "I can teach you how to read," Lisette exclaimed. "My mother taught me." In her sudden excitement, she actually looked up at the Mistress and met her eyes.

  Realizing her mistake an instant too late, Lisette looked back to the floor. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean―"

  "No, it's fine," Emeline said, gently taking her hand. "I promise."

  Lisette nearly retreated from the unexpected contact, and then instead she glanced up again, more surety in her gaze this time. She could well understand why King Nazar had chosen her as his mistress... she was the most beautiful woman Lisette had ever seen, and she bore every indignity the king and his loyalists doled out with a composure that Lisette found impossible to comprehend. The fact that the king would not raise her to the status of his queen was baffling.

  "I―I'm not exactly sure how to teach you how to read," Lisette finally said. "But I know how, and maybe if I read to you, you'll learn?"

  "Couldn't hurt to try," Emeline said. She grinned and hurried over to the bookshelves. "How about this one? The drawings are beautiful."

  "I love that one," Lisette said. "Mother used to read it to me every night."

  Lisette decided then that it didn't matter if Sidonie eventually caught her; she could withstand a few lashes. She sat down on the bed and Emeline sat down next to her. Lisette opened the book, smiling at the sight of the old illustrations. Her mother had told her that her grandfather had written and illustrated the book himself as a present for his children. "The Story of How Vedrana's Forest Came to Be and Other Legends," she read. "Once, in the kingdom of Abaya, there lived two beautiful princesses. Their names were Eshanti and Deviki. They were inseparable, though Deviki was outgoing and charming and little Eshanti preferred her books."

  The drawing on that page showed two girls, both dark-haired and smiling, one holding a book and one spinning happily, dancing. Lisette remembered that she used to look at that page and hope that her mother's child would be a girl.

  She cleared her throat and went on.

  "But then came the time when the eldest sister, Deviki, grew old enough to be married. Eshanti could not bear the thought, and she retreated once again into her books. But this time, she was not satisfied with tales of pretty magic and good sorcerers. This time she searched for the darkness.

  "Eshanti looked for anything that might keep her sister with her. And she called forth a Shadow. The Shadow promised that he would do away with Deviki's bridegroom, and any others who came after.

  "This pleased Deviki, as the prince she was to marry was not a good man. Upon his death, the king arranged another marriage. This man was even worse, and when the Shadow took care of him, the sisters rejoiced. But then it happened
that Deviki found someone on her own. A young prince from a neighboring kingdom.

  "Deviki begged her sister to call the Shadow off. And she did try. But the Shadow had made a vow, and it fulfilled it. Heartsick and horrified, Deviki threw herself from the highest tower. Realizing what her beloved sister had done, Eshanti followed.

  "But that left the Shadow with no mistress or master. Free, it slaughtered everyone in the kingdom. Then it settled in the forest. The forest, before its arrival, was a bright and welcoming place. But the Shadow frightened the good folk away, and the creatures that replaced them would make even the bravest warrior flee.

  "The Shadow lives there still, waiting for those foolish enough to enter Vedrana's Forest... or waiting for one clever enough to become its new keeper."

  Lisette smiled over at Emeline. "Are you sure you don't wish to start with something more cheerful?"

  "Oh no, no. This book is perfect," Emeline said. "Could you read the next story?"

  Though she was exhausted, Lisette couldn't say no to the enthusiasm in Emeline's voice. "Of course."

  "Are you able to write as well?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you write a small list for me?" Emeline asked. "Please?"

  "Certainly," Lisette said, setting the book down momentarily to fetch a piece of paper and a quill from her desk. "What would you like it to say?"

  "Isidora. Melor. Miron. Anselme. Sofya."

  Lisette was confused for a moment, and then she recognized one of the names, as a servant who'd been― "These are the people you've had pardoned."

  Emeline nodded. "Yes. The king said that this year I'll be allowed to pardon three on my birthday instead of just one. And I thought perhaps that the next time I become upset, looking at their names will help."

  "I'm sure they will, Mistress."

  *~*~*

  Vasya yawned as he opened the door to his room. He stepped out onto the cold stone floor of the hallway, intent on getting breakfast. Then he cursed when he heard the sound of approaching voices.

  Of course. It was Visitors' Day.

  "It's so good to see you again!" a loyalist chirruped, clasping Gennadi's hands as if she were greeting an old friend.

  Vasya watched Gennadi give her a genuine smile. The young man hadn't been here for long; to him, the loyalist might very well seem a friend, someone who came to see them once a month to hand out sweets and advice and praise.

  He'd always seen them more as owners giving empty attention to their pets.

  But then, he most likely felt that way because he was trapped here. If he was simply here for a year or two to earn extra king's copper, if his service to the Arena could be bought, if he could still earn enough coin and respect that he could be raised to loyalist status himself, then perhaps he would be smiling just as broadly.

  The loyalists milled about the fighters' quarters, completely unconcerned for their own safety and rightly so. The guards stationed up and down the hallway had something to do with it, yes, but Vasya knew that the more important factor was the fighters' pact.

  Decades ago, for his birthday, a loyalist had requested a fight to the death between two warriors who were wildly mismatched. He'd found the moment-long debacle amusing, at least until the best friend of the fighter who'd lost had taken the loyalist's life.

  In return, the queen at the time had declared that any fighter who acted against a royal or a loyalist would not only have their own family put to death, but that ten people from the other fighters' families would be randomly chosen for death as well.

  There had been a few instances of fighters plotting against a loyalist or sometimes even one of the royals. The other fighters had quelled such things―sometimes lethally―before anything could be done. There were, he was certain, far more than a few fighters who would dearly love to exact some type of retribution on the fools who came here, but whose concern for the others' families stilled their hand.

  Vasya had no family left, but that didn't mean he would risk Roz's daughter, or Ghislain's mother, or Amandine's brother.

  "Bondservant!" one of the loyalists said cheerfully as Gennadi and another loyalist strolled down the hall, talking quietly. "Another glass of wine for me, and one for my favorite fighter here. Have you seen her on the circuit?"

  "I can't say I have, sir," Lisette said, exhaustion clouding her voice.

  Vasya looked to her. Lisette had grown taller in the years since he'd seen her last, and the king was no longer forcing her to keep her head shorn. Some of the servants, the favored ones, were fed just as well as the fighters. Judging from the way her clothes hung so loosely, from the gauntness of her cheeks, Lisette wasn't favored.

  He would have smiled at the knowledge that she was still clearly fighting in her own way, but then she swayed on her feet, and he saw the dark circles under her eyes and the way her hands shook as she handed the loyalist two cups of wine.

  "She's one of the best we've seen in a while," the loyalist boasted. "I daresay she could even beat you one of these days," he said, grinning as he clapped Vasya on the shoulder.

  Normally Vasya would have given him a polite smile―he'd learned quickly that if he didn't at least pretend some level of good feeling toward them, more deathfights were the result―but now he didn't even look his way.

  "Champion," the loyalist said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Perhaps you didn't hear me?"

  "Liliya is an excellent fighter," he said. "With more training, who knows?"

  It was the best answer he could give. Praise her too much―and she was an incredible opponent―and the two of them would most likely get sent to the next deathfight. Play down her accomplishments, pretend that she was no threat at all, and the loyalist's interest in her might wane.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Liliya smile briefly.

  "It gives me great pride," the loyalist said, "to see young fighters such as yourself working so hard, Liliya. I know there are easier ways to earn king's copper; it takes a lot of bravery to enter the Arena. My own father worked his way from fighter to loyalist; it took him almost thirteen years." His smile grew sly as he lowered his voice for only the benefit of Liliya and the few others in his immediate vicinity. "Our low-born Royal Mistress simply spread her legs and got the same benefits and more. Much more honorable to fight."

  Before Vasya could open his mouth, Lisette had taken a wobbly step forward.

  "You listen―" she began, and then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.

  One of the loyalists squeaked in surprise and quickly backed away before the spreading puddle of wine around Lisette could get on the hem of her dress.

  Vasya knelt at Lisette's side, and a loyalist also knelt down, draping her shawl over the shivering girl. Vasya gave her a grateful smile, and then he realized who it was and looked away.

  He heard Loyalist Yelena get to her feet and move away from him, and he took a few seconds to make sure his own hands were steady before he gently grasped Lisette's shoulder and turned her to face him.

  "Lisette?"

  "She'll be fine," the loyalist said. "If she's even sick. I know you probably don't realize because you don't live in the main castle, but a certain type of servant loves faking fits in order to get out of work."

  Lisette blinked slowly and looked up at him, her eyes glassy, her brown skin waxy and slick with sweat. Though he only had a palm resting against the shawl covering her shoulder, he could feel the heat radiating from her. Then she reached up and grasped his hand in both of hers, grumbling in protest when he moved it away to motion everyone else to stand back.

  "It's all right," he said to her. "I'm going to get you to the doctor. Okay?"

  She muttered something unintelligible, coughed, and burrowed further under the shawl. So he picked her up, edging some of the fabric back from around her face.

  "I really think this could wait," the loyalist complained. "Besides, did you hear how she spoke to me? I think a lashing at the very least would―"

  "
Please forgive her, Jodoc," Yelena said, even as Vasya tensed for a fight. "In her delirium she must have mistaken you for another."

  He muttered a curse and then finally nodded and moved over to Liliya again.

  *~*~*

  The doctor took one look at Lisette and shook his head. "Here, set her down. Poor thing, look at the state of her. What in the blazing fires took you so long?"

  "I didn't know about this until today," Vasya said tersely. "Can you help her?"

  "Well, I would rather have seen to her three or four days ago but yes, yes I think so." Alain paused in his scurry around the room to gather various bottles, eyeing him warily. "If I can't?"

  "You won't be the one I look to."

  "Ah. All right then, very well. And please don't take offense, as I ask this of everyone, but if you could go wait out in the hall? I simply cannot do my work with people staring at me. You understand―well, no, I suppose you don't, as all of your work is done with quite a large audience, but―"

  "Doctor."

  "Yes?"

  "Just work, please," Vasya said and quietly shut the door behind him. Then he sat down in the sole wooden chair beside the doctor's door and waited.

  That was where Sidonie found him several moments later, her face red with anger. "You interfered with my decision as to the discipline of a member of my staff, and―"

  "Are you stupid?"

  Her mouth fell open. "I beg your pardon?"

  "It was a simple question. Are you stupid?"

  "No!"

  "I don't believe you. Because anyone with an ounce of sense in their head would've known she needed to come here."

  "Do you have any idea how many servants over the years have claimed sickness when the only thing wrong with them is laziness, or a desire to spend more time with their current bedmate? I'd already been quite lenient with her for two days, but she was not going to miss Visitors' Day."

  "Did you even go into the bondservants' quarters to look at her?"

  Sidonie pressed her lips into a tight line and finally said, "No. Which was a simple mistake, and an understandable one."

  "It won't happen again."

  "Well, I―"

  "I've heard stories of you. And if Lisette is hurt by your hand―"