Chapter 7
I flinched as the hourly bells rang. Shit!
I sprinted back to the castle, cursing beneath my breath. Striding into the kitchen, I grabbed the first tray I could find.
“Hey!” Ralfe bellowed. “I prepared that for Councilman—”
I hurried upstairs, ignoring whatever was coming out of Ralfe’s mouth.
Lord Aegir was behind his desk when I came in. “You’re here,” he said, rising to his feet.
I blinked.
I hadn’t seen him in such fine attire before. His clothes must have arrived; perhaps they came with the rest of his men—males.
The golden embroidery along the borders of his matching tunic and trousers contrasted with the olive green fabric.
Even from afar, I could see the fine work of the golden stitching.
I had no doubt that they were tailor-made, as I noticed the way the fabric hugged his body, the definition of his arm and thigh muscles as he made his way around the desk.
The responsible tailor clearly knew their craft and must have been very lucky to have taken his measurements.
Sunrays made their way through the window, catching in his eyes as they glinted, strikingly accentuated by both the green attire and the colour of his tanned skin.
And his dark brown hair, typically left to fall naturally in soft curls just above his sharp ears, was now styled neatly. It somehow defined his features.
In that moment, I came to a conclusion—it was not possible for him to possess anything but a piss-poor personality. I didn’t think that the continent—Lyrantheia—could handle it otherwise.
“Yes, I apologise for being late. I tried to arrive by dawn,” I said.
Plates rattled as I rushed to set up the table.
As he approached, the smell of jasmine soap enveloped me, making me very self-conscious about the dishevelled state I was in.
I had the feeling my olive skin, all clammy, was still reddened after the unexpected morning run.
Giving him my back, I secretly wiped the sweat beading my upper lip with the back of my hand. The thought of my smell made me want to get as far away from his Fae senses as possible.
My gaze remained fixed on the tray when he said, “No, I mean you’re still here. He didn’t replace you.”
A pause, then, “I guess my suspicion was wrong after all.”
“I guess so.” His arm reached past me, grabbing a date tart.
I was about to slip away when he asked, “Enjoyed your early walk with the horses?” His question confirmed that I indeed smelled like one, too. How…lovely. My face reddened just that bit more.
“I—I did. Good day, Lord Hailin.”
The second I closed the door behind me, I realised that I hadn’t asked him the only questions I needed to ask him.
Fuck me.
I knocked, gently this time, and peeked my head through his door. “Lord Hailin, at what time would you like to be served lunch and dinner today?”
“I’ve seen you already.”
“What?”
“You hide behind the door, but I’ve already seen you.”
My face heated. “I’m—do you want to be served or not?”
“I’ll be spending the rest of the day with my men. You can come again tomorrow with breakfast.”
That meant I would be spending the rest of my day in either the kitchen or the dungeon, probably both. But I didn’t complain; I was low on both soap and snacks.
“At what hour?” I asked.
“Like before.”
Thank the gods.
As I was preparing for bed, I glimpsed a stack of letters on the bedside table. My fingers traced one of the paper envelopes. I flipped it around. Nadya, from ma and pa. I flipped another. Nadya, from cousin Deya. Nadya, from your favourite sister, Lina.
My heart ached.
The letters reminded me that I hadn’t written to Selmira since the day Semuel left. Because what could I possibly write to her without sounding miserable? I didn’t want her to worry.
They also reminded me that Semuel had not once written to me. Which was why I often worried, wondering if he was all right.
I tried to imagine what his face must have looked like now that he had turned twenty-five. Perhaps he had grown a beard. Though every time I thought about him, I always imagined his face looking exactly the same as it did the first time that I saw him.
“I’ve heard positive things about you, Ms. Wildheart. Stableman Martin Seid also told me that Sand Priestess Selmira thinks very highly of you. But I want to hear some things from you. Tell me more about yourself, about your skills, about what would make you a valuable servant at this castle.”
“Well…I—I know how to clean. Floors, furniture, and clothes, and I know how to cook…and I—”
“Hello, my beautiful Farah,” a young man, perhaps twenty years old, said. He stormed into the little meeting room.
“You do realise that I am in the middle of an interview?” the middle-aged woman, Farah, asked, her tone indulgent.
“I’m just here to fetch some papers. Go on pretending I do not exist.” He rummaged through the top drawer, whistling a quiet tune.
I noticed his clothing—a variety of shades of brown.
The tunic’s fabric seemed fine, opulent even, but the overall attire, with the knee-high leather boots, tight brown trousers, and camel-brown tunic, screamed stableboy.
He reminded me of what I knew I would long for should I be accepted to work as a servant here.
“And I have plenty of experience with horses,” I continued. “And not only cleaning the stables. I was also responsible for brushing, saddling, watering, and feeding them. Oh, and I even know how to tend to their hooves.”
“You’re hired!” the young man announced, swiftly turning himself around.
“Prince Semuel! I am interviewing her for the role of a castle servant. We are in desperate need of help in the east wing.”
Prince!?
“Oh, come on, my lovely Farah, let me have this one. I’m in dire need of a personal servant.”
“Coating your tongue with sugar does not work on me, young Prince. And how many servants do you need? You already have Faernand, have you not? Isn’t he your personal servant?”
“I have appointed Faern to other important roles and am in much need of a new servant.”
I was certain Farah was biting the insides of her cheeks.
“What’s your name?” the prince asked.
“I’m Cordelia…Delia Wildheart.”
“Come with me, Wildheart. I’ll give you a tour of my rooms and the stables.”
Farah let out a long exhale. “If Mounir was here, he—”
“Well, good thing he is not here now, is he? And besides, I am prince, I can hire a servant, can I not?”
She let out another breath and in an exasperated tone said, “Young lady, when you’re finished with the prince’s tour, come back here, please. You’ll be staying with us on the east side, close to the prince himself. I will show you your room and the facilities.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Farah.”
“Thank you, Ms. Farah,” Prince Semuel parroted, winking at her.