Chapter 13
Thirteen
Alight knock on the door wakes me. The sound is soft enough to tell me that it is not the guards or anyone in a position of power on the other side of the wooden door, they always knock with a sense of entitlement and briskness that implies their time is important.
However, I would not call it a timid knock either.
Instead. It is the sound of someone who wants to be heard without being a bother to the person in the room.
Sitting up in the bed, I scrub the heels of my palms against my eyes. I am not sure when I actually fell asleep, or what time it is, my mind fogged from dreaming. Did I even hear someone at the door, or did I imagine that?
When I was brought to my room by the guards, I was so emotionally drained that I immediately climbed onto the massive bed and buried myself within the covers.
I was too overwhelmed to even look around the rooms that apparently now belong to me, a prospect that is difficult for me to process.
Instead, I curled up in the dark and stared into nothing, my mind disassociated from my body, allowing me to rest and not go over and over the events of today.
Numbness had then turned to sadness and I cried for what felt like a lifetime, my head throbbing as I poured out my sorrow.
Not necessarily for myself, but for Ella and everything she has had to go through in her short life.
Eventually my tears ran out and my anguish turned to anger.
An unknown amount of time passed and no one bothered me.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep.
A soft, feminine voice reaches me, muffled thanks to the door and mound of covers over the top of me, only I cannot quite make out what they are saying. Frowning, I lean forward a little more, hoping that maybe I will be able to hear her better.
The knock sounds again. “Lady Kiara?”
I heard her that time. Lady Kiara. The voice is not one I recognise, and she must be confused if she thinks that I am a Lady. She would probably run away screaming if she knew I was sullied.
I could simply ignore them, pretend that I cannot head them, and eventually they will go away.
However, my curiosity is getting the better of me.
Who is this mysterious woman, and why is she outside my door?
The room is dark, so I am assuming that night has fully fallen.
Is it common for women to wander the hallways of the palace after sundown and visit each other’s privet rooms?
What if she has important information to give me?
That is the thought that truly hits home.
They might be able to tell me about Ella.
Groaning to myself, I slip from the bed and pad barefoot across the room.
Reaching the door, I come to a stop and stare up at it.
My hand pauses mid-air, hovering over the hands.
Why am I suddenly so nervous about this?
It’s protecting me from the strangers outside this room.
What if someone means me harm and I willingly let them in?
Although it would not stop someone who was determined to get in, the door offers me a sense of security that I have not felt in decades.
This is a luxury I never thought I would have, and I’m clinging to it, reluctant to let it go.
Cautious, I press my ear to the door. I can make out the shuffle of anxious feet, but nothing else stands out to me.
Whoever is there is alone – that does not stop them from wanting to hurt me though…
I need to stop this and pull myself together.
If they were going to attack me, they would not knock and wait for me to answer.
Hesitantly, I open the door, only just wide enough to see who is waiting on the other side.
A small, dainty woman glances up, meeting my gaze with an anxious smile.
Her dark hair is pulled back, mostly hidden by a loose, gauzy hood that many of the noble ladies choose to wear.
I spot several silver pins woven into her hair to hold the hood up.
You might have thought that her face would be obstructed, hiding her true intentions, but it is nothing like the tight-fitting black veils I would wear in the market place.
Although she appears anxious, the warmth of her smile seems genuine, hazel eyes glittering back at me. I glance at the corridor behind her and find that she’s alone.
“Lady,” she greets, drawing my gaze as she drops into a curtsy. “I am Abbie and I will be your maid and confidant while you are living here in the palace.”
Oh boy. They have given me a maid? I don’t know whether I should be flattered or offended.
I am seen as the lowest of the low in our society, and they have given this poor woman the job of clearing up after me, something I would never expect.
On the other hand, she might be here to spy on me and report back to the king. How am I supposed to handle this?
Her smile is becoming a little strained and I realise that I am still staring at her.
Turning her away does not seem like an option, and I am clearly not going to welcome her in as though I expect her to start cleaning up.
Wracking my brain, I clear my throat, not quite sure what I am going to say when I open my mouth.
“I am no lady,” I finally reply, and there is no malice in my tone, just tired acknowledgement.
Her eyes quickly slide to the black band on my arm.
“I know a little of your circumstance, Lady.” Her voice is soft and respectful, with not a single trace of judgement in her eyes.
“I also know that you are here to save us all. It is an honour to serve you.” Straightening, her smile becomes professional.
“I am sorry it is so late in the day, but I wanted to give you some space to adjust before I bustled in.”
I am completely taken aback by this woman. Where is the judgement? She knows I am sullied, she knows that I supposedly have magic, yet if anything she is excited to see me. Something is off here.
Clutching onto the door tightly, I waver, unable to decide what to do. “Did the king send you?”
She seems to realise that this is a pivotal question for me, her expression softening slightly. “No, Lady, I volunteered.”
None of this makes sense to me. In the Gutter I was taught that I was the lowest of the low and no one cared if I lived or died.
Here, they seem to have different views on the sullied and magic use, or is it just me that they see differently?
I have so many questions, but as I look at Abbie’s eager face, there is one that stands out the most.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
Blinking, my question takes her aback, and she clutches her hands together.
Her smile is still in place, but there is something more vulnerable about it now as she twists her hands together.
“Not all of us here in the palace had good starts in life. I was offered a new life here and it saved me. I know how difficult it is adjusting to life here when you have come from nothing.” Clearing her throat, she nods her head toward the door I am still tightly clutching onto. “May I come in?”
“Oh. Yes,” I step back and she bustles in, already straightening things as she passes.
She chatters as she moves through my room, although I don’t have a clue what she is saying as I am not listening, my mind caught up on what she said.
I am usually fairly good at telling who speaks the truth, and I believe everything that she says.
Her past intrigues me, but I won’t ask. If she wants to tell me, she will.
Slowly, I close the door and move further into the room, holding back as I watch her straightening the blankets on the bed. What happens now? Am I supposed to do something?
“Oh, I have some messages for you.” Her head pops up from where she is arranging sheets to smile over at me, oblivious to the lurch of my heart as she speaks. “The child that was brought in; she is doing well and is recovering in the healers quarters, you shall see her tomorrow.”
My knees feel weak with relief. I need to sit down before I sink to the ground.
Stumbling over to a lounge chair, I drop into it, eyes screwing together tightly as I try to hold back the wave of emotion at knowing she is safe and doing well.
If I cry now, I fear I shall never stop, and that is not a good impression to make on Abbie.
Ella is safe. Over and over I repeat that to myself and slowly open my eyes, sitting upright on the lounge chair.
Abbie doesn’t seem to have noticed, or if she has then she is very good at hiding it.
She pulls open a door on the other side of the room that I assume is a closet, but actually is a bathroom.
I have my own bathroom. That, more than anything, takes me by surprise.
There are so many things that are new to me, or that I have learnt today, yet it is discovering that I have a privet washroom that intrigues me the most. I snort quietly and shake my head. My priorities are messed up.
“One of the Chosen also pulled me aside and told me that he shall take you to temple tomorrow after the ceremony. He was sorry that he could not come to you before, but the king had demanded you have peace to rest.” Abbies voice floats out from the bathroom.
Caleb. Guilt makes me wince. I have barely thought of him since my meeting with the king, my thoughts stuck on Ella.
Of course, I had noticed that he wasn’t at the gathering the king brought me to and that it was a Chosen that I didn’t recognise.
He’s okay though, I have to say to myself.
There is no more room inside me to be worried for another person.
Wait, what did she just say?
“Ceremony?” I question, and I realise I have no idea how much time has passed since my meeting with the king. “What time is it? What day is it?”
Appearing from the bathroom, Abbie smiles and walks over to the wall of draped, revealing large panoramic windows. She glances up at the moon, using it to tell the time. “It is late in the night, and you came to us today. In fact, the new day shall start in several minutes.”
It may well feel like days have passed, but in reality it has only been a handful of hours.
I do not know why that feels so important, yet a part of me relaxes at this information.
Turning my attention back to Abbie, I contemplate the young woman.
She must be around my age, perhaps a little later, early twenties perhaps.
She seems so happy about all of this, so cheery, and I wonder if I was ever like that before I was made sullied. She bustles around, opening cupboards and pulling out clothing nicer than anything I ever saw in the market.
“Here are some sleep clothes to wear.” Placing a pile of soft looking garments on the edge of the bed, she glances up, seeming surprised at my intense look.
“Do you need anything further from me? I have brought water and some bread in case you were hungry.” She gestures to a trolley by the door that I am only just noticing.
“No, I am fine, thank you.” I manage a weak smile, somehow managing not to leap up and grab the food and water.
Nodding, Abbie makes her way to the door. “In that case I shall leave you to sleep and collect you in the morning.” She dips her head and steps outside. “Goodnight, Lady.”
The door clicks shut. Counting to five, I make myself slowly stand and walk to the trolley like a civilised person.
Although they fed me in the cells, it has been a while since I ate anything and my stomach is grumbling in protest. Having been sullied for so long, food and water are something that were hard fought for, and even though I know I will be feed at regular intervals, it is a hard habit to break.
Lifting the silver jug, I make myself pour a glass of water and not drink straight from the vessel.
As soon as the glass is to my lips though, all thoughts of civility are off.
Gulping the cool, clear water, I don’t care that it is spilling down my face.
Finishing that glass, I pour another. The water here is clean and crystal clear, with not a single fleck of dirt in it. It is glorious.
My small, tight stomach churns painfully, reminding me that years of starvation have meant I can only take in small amounts of food or drink at a time.
Now, I am so full that I feel as though I might explode, a feeling I don’t think I have ever experienced.
Dropping the glass back to the trolley, I ignore the bread and stumble toward the bed.
Running my hand over the garments Abbie left on the covers, I marvel at the softness of the fabric, but I don’t bother to change.
I already feel so out of my depth that I don’t think I could cope with adding something else.
Back in the Gutter, we would wear clothes until they are literally falling apart, so the idea of changing is a foreign concept.
My clothes are already rumpled from sleeping on them, a few more hours is not going to hurt.
Now that Abbie has gone there is nothing else to distract me and all of the thoughts I pushed aside and hid are pushing to the surface.
Bubbling like a boiling pot, my feelings are demanding to be heard.
Only, I’m terrified of what might happen if I finally release the lid I have nailed over my trauma.
What if I cannot control myself or those feelings never go back into that box in my mind? What if I don’t like what I see?
However, cracks are appearing in my mask and soon everyone will be able to see what is beneath.
It’s building and growing like a live thing, a vine that wraps around me, tight and sucking at my lifeforce.
If I don’t let myself feel, then it is going to force its way out, and that will be far more explosive than if I allow myself this moment of weakness. I cannot hold it back any longer.