Falling For the Trickster (To Win a Dark Heart #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

There was only so much more of this I could take.

My knuckles were white against my ruddy skin as I gripped the railing of the ship’s balcony, staring out at the dark waters, weathering the frigid winter air.

But anything was better than going back inside Princess Gertrude’s designated quarters, even when they were lavish and warm.

After all, she was afforded only the best as a member of the Avongartan royal family, while we traveled to what would be our new residence once she married the Crown Prince of Orcage.

I might have blamed her excessive attitude on worry about venturing into a foreign land and a new role.

I myself was nervous about the uncertainty of this new life.

But not even that could excuse her behavior.

She’d been like that since the day I’d been first “promoted” into the misfortune of being her lady’s maid.

I couldn’t believe it had been that long ago.

Three whole years that I had waited hand and foot on the most petulant, demanding malcontent to ever walk Folkshore.

Every day I woke up hoping for a crumb of appreciation, a simple thanks, even one she didn’t mean.

But all I got was worse than nothing. Any attention I got from her had been granted in the worst way.

“Ottoline!” Gertrude shrieked from behind me. “Unless you fell over, get back in here and draw my bath!”

Sighing out a cloud of vapor, I headed back inside.

Once I gathered the buckets needed to fill her tub, I quickly passed her without making eye contact, and rushed out to collect hot water from the kitchen. I reluctantly stomped down the staircase, passing Reinold, the guard posted below.

“Do you need any help?” Reinold asked, making me pause on the last step.

He was the youngest among the guards accompanying us to Orcage, with short brown hair that fell around his head and matching eyes that twinkled with sincerity.

He had a kind face, cheeks still rounded with youth, and I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t taken to admiring him from a distance since he’d been employed at the castle back in Avongart.

Any daydreams I had about marrying him, or anyone for that matter, had always been shattered by my situation. I had to face it that I’d never have a moment to myself, that my future revolved around jumping to my mistress’s loud commands.

“I do,” I said. “But if I accept, my mistress would accuse me of not doing my job.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” he offered.

I tried smiling at him, but the muscles in my face had been frozen by tiredness and the cold I’d been subjecting myself to, just to have some distance from her. Perhaps I could use her used bathwater after she was done, and be soothed by whatever lingering warmth was left.

“All right,” I agreed, prioritizing my need for some relief during the many trips I’d have to make filling the tub over my dread of Gertrude’s outrage. “Come with me.”

Reinold followed me down to the ship’s kitchen, where the water had been boiling in a grand pot over the burning coals.

Buckets of steaming water in hand, we headed back up and then down many times, until we had enough. As he set the last round down on the doorstep of the princess’s quarters, he gave me a wink. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“It had better be, or it’ll be your fault if my head is bitten off.”

“Then let’s be grateful she can only do so metaphorically, and not literally,” he said.

“Don’t be so sure. She might unhinge her jaw like a snake and behead me,” I grumbled, dreading going back inside. “Then shake her aggression out with my limp body, like one of her stupid little dogs with the toys they shred to pieces.”

The one relief of this trip was that the dogs hadn’t been brought along for me to clean up after, one of the thousand things she had been complaining about incessantly.

Reinold rolled his shoulders back, looking disturbed at my rant. “That’s awfully graphic.”

“I’ve read worse.”

“Have you?” He asked doubtfully. “I didn’t know you could read.”

The moment was officially ruined.

“I’m a lady’s maid who now works for a princess,” I snapped. “Of course I can read.”

Eyes widening, he raised his hands up in a defensive motion, and spluttered, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that, with all your duties, you must not have time to read.”

Somehow his unconvincing backtracking annoyed me more. But I just wanted this interlude over with. “Sure. Anyway, thank you for your help.”

“Listen, Ottoline—”

“I said thank you,” I cut him off firmly, feeling stupidly hurt and fed-up.

Turning away, I hoisted up two of the buckets.

Their weight tugged down on my arms, and made veins pop out against the fair skin of my hands.

I opened the door with my elbow, and shouldered my way inside.

I made the trip many times, kicking it shut behind me as I hobbled in with the last buckets, hunching over from the load and the exertion.

“About time you got back,” she finally acknowledged me from the chaise longue by the balcony, wrapped up in a quilt with a book in her hands. “Where have you been?”

Straightening, I forced myself to look her way.

In terms of beauty, Princess Gertrude was borderline plain in a way only nobility and royalty could get away with, with no striking features or memorable quirks.

She had a round face framed by long, buttery-yellow hair I liked to keep in braids—to minimize the struggle of keeping it untangled—slim lips, downturned dark blue eyes and a nose that was almost flat.

It was a face one could have grown fond of, if her character had allowed such feelings to foster. It hadn’t.

“Retrieving what you requested, Your Highness,” I said monotonously, not giving her the chance to retort before heading into the adjoining bathroom with my burden.

After I transferred all the buckets, I dumped one after the other into the clawfoot tub, ground some lily soap into the steaming water then headed back out to help her undress.

She was fidgety tonight as I removed the layers of her dress and unlaced her corset.

Once she was free of all her frilly trappings, she slammed her book into my chest and headed into the bathroom.

“Read me this after I’m dry,” she ordered.

Breathing in then out to calm myself, I murmured, “Yes, Your Highness.”

The book was bound in red leather, engraved with gilded letters that declared it as The Alloy of Life by Rosemary Husk; an Arborean novel judging by the botanical name of the author.

I hoped it was as interesting as its title, as most of what she’d made me read to her had been dull, factual texts about the history of her new country, or their equally tedious native fiction.

A scream snapped me out of my thoughts and I rushed into the bathroom to find her leaping from the tub.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped.

Scrambling to wrap herself in a towel, she yelled, “The water is scalding hot, that’s what’s wrong! Are you trying to kill me?”

I shook my head. “You were supposed to wait for it to cool.”

“You were supposed to cool it for me, you idiot!”

“But I—”

She cut me off with a slap so hard, it threw my head sideways, and made my neck pop.

We stood there, frozen save for her loud breathing, until I dared to move upright.

My right cheek stung and throbbed, and I fought hard to not get pulled down into the depths of my worst memories, and anchored there by the familiar pain.

It had been years since I’d last seen my father, and though his hands had been much larger, this blow hurt all the same.

In suffocating silence, I took one of the buckets and went to get cold water.

When I returned, and the water was to her preference, I first sat behind her to wash her hair, then scrubbed her down.

Afterwards, I dried her off and she slipped into her nightclothes, and waited at the boudoir while I stoked the fireplace to add more warmth to the room.

As she constantly reminded me, we couldn’t have her getting sick before she met the prince.

Balcony closed and hair toweled to the best of my abilities in this damp, frigid weather, I oiled and combed it, steaming the entire time. My rage took an uptick when I caught my face in the mirror.

Aside from the brand new addition of the red welt on my cheek, I had a relatively pleasing face, broad with wide-set bright blue eyes, a short chin with a slight cleft to it, a snub nose and lips formed into a natural pout.

My hair, pulled back into a tight braid, was a dark blonde, with deeper tones up top, and lighter ones at the ends.

“Are you done?” Gertrude asked stiffly.

“Not yet.”

The more I looked at my face, at the mark she’d left, the more I wanted to just leave her hair as is and go sleep in my cot by her bed. I was worn out after a full day of being on my feet and waiting on her, and not in any mood to indulge her anymore.

But I couldn’t deny her. My livelihood depended on her, not to mention that I sent half that money back to my father…

What if I stopped sending him money, under the excuse that I now lived too far away?

My wages from now on could be reserved for me alone.

These might be increased now that I was the one thing she’d been allowed to bring from home, leaving behind her tutors, her dogs, and her ladies-in-waiting.

Everything would be provided for her upon our arrival at the winter palace in Vergoldet, but I was her one indispensable “item.” She truly couldn’t manage for an hour without me.

She needed me just as much as I needed her.

Now I suddenly needed to test how far she’d go if I denied her. Even if she hit me again. After all, I’d been hit harder and gotten back up.

Mind made up, I stepped back from her chair, leaving her hair unbraided.

In the mirror, she pulled a perplexed face. “Why’d you stop?”

It took a minute to gather my wits and dare to reply, “Because I’m dead tired.”

Gertrude turned in her seat, facing me with a slight frown, not one of anger but of continued confusion. “You can sleep once you finish my hair.”

“I want to sleep now.”

“What difference does it make, now from later?” She tapped the boudoir to make her point. “Come finish my hair.”

“No.”

As soon as I’d said it, I felt a great rush come over me. I’d never thought I’d say no to anyone, let alone a member of the royal family. It felt scary yet exhilarating, making my heart pound.

She opened her mouth to object, but a crack of thunder had us both jumping. But she truly feared storms, when I was just startled.

She shot up to her feet and rushed to her bed, as if hiding under the sheets would make a difference. She tore them aside before grumbling loudly, “See what you did? My mouth is dry from dealing with your inefficiency. Bring me some water.”

Without thinking, I blurted out, “Why, so you can bruise the other cheek when it turns out to be too cold for your liking?”

Scowling, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Get me water. Now.”

“Get it yourself.” I dropped down into my cot. “I’m done for today.”

The stunned silence that followed was louder than the storm outside. But wonder of wonders, when it finally shattered it wasn’t on one of her yells, just the sound of water pouring into a glass and more grumbling, declaring that I must be feverish to speak to her this way.

“You better be over this sickness by the morning.”

Ignoring her, I remained on my side with my back to her.

Soon, she grew quiet and I drifted off into sleep and began to dream of what awaited us in Orcage. I’d heard gossip about it back at the castle, about the culture being similar to ours but richer in the arts and cuisine, with the city covered in lights during the long winter nights…

A brutal roll of thunder jerked me awake, followed by the ship’s foghorn.

The grips of sleep fully unlatched from my mind’s edges, I sat up as lightning cracked across the dark sky. The pitter-patter of rain announced itself soon after, more of a drizzle than a rain storm.

I checked behind me and found Gertrude still deep in sleep, and my resentment towards her doubled.

I wished I could sleep like the dead, like her.

I couldn’t even relax and stuff my hair in a bonnet, plug my ears and mask my eyes like she did.

I had to be at the ready even in sleep in case she needed anything.

Giving up on falling back asleep, I put on my slippers and robe and slipped out to the balcony to watch the storm. The wind hit me first, scattering loose hairs and the odd lock from the top of my braid, and chilling my face to the point that my nose went numb.

Back where I’d begun the night, I watched the storm over the sea, the lightning show among the thick, dark clouds and the fog coating the deck below.

Gods, what was I to do now? What if she woke up angrier than usual, and my little outburst did cost me my job? She might need me now, but they could offer her an even more compliant replacement once she married the prince—

A sudden presence at my back pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.

Before I could jump out of my skin, a voice, low, deep and tranquil, drenched out even the tumult of the storm.

“You deserve better than this. And I can give you exactly what you deserve.”

.