Chapter 10 #2
“Ah, finally. I want to get started on the onion soup. You may now peel and dice the potatoes. Shoo shoo.” Smudge waves me back down into the cellar and I moan as I turn and trudge down the steps to tackle the pile of potatoes I had noticed earlier.
I am left alone with my intrusive thoughts once again. I’m stuck here… There is no way out… Marissa needs me… Oleander betrayed me… I’m a fool for feeling anything for her.
When I emerge from the cellar, much later, shivering from the prolonged cold, I walk in to see all the gromlins sitting at the big wooden table about to dig into a delicious smelling dinner of what appears to be multiple chicken pot pies.
It must be nearly midnight and I am shocked to see how lively the bunch still seems.
“Come take a seat, you’re just in time for dinner. We are done for the day.” A smiling Gromlin with a pointy nose and big black eyes waves me over to an empty seat.
The kitchen is spotless and there is only one big pot left steaming on the stove.
They must have served dinner to the household ages ago.
I can’t resist my yawn as I slump down in my seat.
A big helping of pot pie is plopped onto my plate and I dig in immediately, savoring the beautiful flakey crust, creamy gravy and soft, comforting root veggies.
The gromlins dig in too but continue to chat away about local gossip from the neighboring estates and the village.
I have no ability to focus on anything other than the steaming food in front of me, so all that they are saying is not registered in my very tired brain.
When I am starting on my second helping I realize Lillian is not present.
“Does Lillian usually join you for dinner?” I ask the Gromlin next to me.
“No no, all the other servants eat in the servant’s hall. They think they are above us because we cook their food,” the creature scoffs as it heaps a spoonful of pie in its mouth.
Damn, how am I going to meet her brother if they never even come in here?
I’m starting to feel dejected as my plan from earlier seems more complicated than I thought.
I decide I will just have to bide my time for the moment and wait for when he and I can speak privately. Surely I will meet him soon…
“Are the other servants gromlins as well? Are you all indebted to Master Pyralis?” I ask, genuinely unsure who the fae tend to employ and what those contracts might look like.
“Gromlins only work in the kitchens silly. We have to stay hidden because of the danger if we flip. Happens a lot less when we are amongst our own kind and no, none of us are indebted, we are paid a fair wage. The Master is only one of few major household lords that stayed true to The Owl King’s ways.
The Wolf King has allowed the other lords to use fae and creatures-of-fae as slaves,” the Gromlin on the other side of me answers and I catch it glance down at my wrist where Pyralis branded me.
Am I the only one who owes him a debt? I look down at my wrist before pulling down my sleeve and hiding it under the table. When I look back up the gromlin looks as if he is starting to shake and his eyes are changing from black to red.
“Simmer down Olaf, go dunk your head!” Smudge calls from the end of the table and Olaf nods, rushing over to the sink to pour some water over his head.
“What happens when gromlins… flip?” I ask as I look at Olaf’s head steam under the running water.
“Ha! Just wish you never find out girl,” is all the response I get in return from another gromlin. I eye the large group of them warily and truly hope I never find out.
After dinner I find myself helping with the dishes, trying not to sway too much from the exhaustion from minimal sleep I have had over the past few days. Smudge gives me a sweeping look before she graciously scoots me out of the kitchen so I can go to bed.
My feet feel like bruises as I climb the stone steps to my room, the door creaks loudly as I push it open.
The space is illuminated with candles in sconces that I hadn’t noticed before and my bed looks newly made.
There is a clean white nightgown on top of it, and I can see the bathtub is full of sweet smelling, steaming water.
Where did all of this come from? I wonder but am too tired to reflect on it as I peel my uniform off and step into the deliciously warm waters. I groan, rejoicing in the heat as it seeps into my aching back from being hunched over all day.
I untangle the braid that Oleander had given to me days ago, giving my scalp a little massage to release the tension.
I nearly fall asleep in the bath and it takes all of my will power to pull myself out, put on my nightgown and flop on the bed.
I don’t even get under the blankets before I fall into a deep sleep.
Hazel eyes ensconced in soft flickering flames fill my mind, my tense muscles relax in their glow.
You are safe there. Wait for me, his deep voice comforts me.
Rather than find a way out of this place, I just wait. What I am waiting for I am not sure. Perhaps I am waiting for the joke to end or to wake up from this dream. More disturbingly, I think I am waiting for the man of my visions to come rescue me, for Embrys to come rescue me…
The worst part isn’t the cutting of onions or scrubbing of dishes. It's waiting for some external force to come and get me out of here. The worst part is expecting something different, and yet all I do is sit and wait. He said to wait. Why am I listening?
The next two weeks are much of the same, although I eventually graduate from peeling and chopping vegetables to assisting with making doughs and sauces when Smudge notices I am somewhat competent at cooking. I have Delia to thank for that skill; she was always an amazing cook.
Am I already resigning to never seeing her again? I try not to think of my parents and Easthelm. The panic is not helping my headspace.
So I keep my head down, hoping for a day that Jacob might walk into the kitchen but I haven’t even seen Lillian again since that first day and I am starting to lose hope.
Only a few servants dressed in much nicer frocks than ours come in and out during meal times to fetch the platters of food.
They barely even acknowledge my presence.
I am often too tired and busy from my work to even think about plans to escape anyway. My thoughts always seem to return to where Marissa might be and if she is all right though.
All visions of Embrys have ceased, although I find myself searching for his fiery eyes in my dreams almost every night. He said I am safe here but what danger was he alluding to? I just feel stuck in here while Marissa is out there.
I find out from one of the gromlins named Lorn that the water of the house is heated by Master Pyralis’ magic and the constant source of water is from Nerius’ skills at bending the flow from the water shelf beneath the land.
I am grateful for the hot bath every night but sometimes wonder at this never ending supply of water when I haven’t experienced a single rainy day since I have been in this realm.
I am slowly getting used to the workload which allows me to split my focus more and join in on the conversations with my fellow gromlins, which helps pass the time.
They are turning out to be quite the bunch of gossips.
I find the social workings of gromlins to be similar to that of high schoolers which makes me miss the days of walking in on Marissa and her cronies giggling on the living room couch.
There has also been some more serious talk amongst the gromlins lately of local farms struggling to grow their crops because of the relentless drought and a strange eerie haze in the air, curling in from where the bigger cities are.
“It’s a curse upon the land!” one of the gromlins speculates. I can’t help but wonder at the similarities between the issues that have been plaguing the human realm in the past few years and am not sure if it is a curse that is to blame.
The days start to blur and I can’t help but submit to my fate and feel like I am turning into a kitchen Gromlin myself. Every now and again I try to think of an escape plan but my every move is watched by either the gromlins or the vargs. My hope is waning.
What my poor parents must be experiencing worries me, the guilt at what I have gotten myself into pulls me further into my slump.
I have no calendar here but I think it must be nearing the beginning of September which means university will be starting up soon, but this information has no relevance to my current situation and only adds to my depression.
I think of Mr. Bugg waiting for my emails that will never reach him again and my unfinished guide to mushroom identification. Little things that felt so big, so important, only a few weeks ago, have no use to me now. I’m still unsure if I can ever cross The Gate again.
A few weeks or perhaps months in, when I have stopped trying to peek through doors I shouldn’t be or trying to wander off, Smudge notices my low mood and trusts me enough now to graciously let me fetch eggs from the chicken coop in the mornings. A small mercy.
This is the only time I get to be outside and I start to notice my skin has turned a milky white colour from the lack of sun.
The brief respite from the kitchen walls always gives me a moment of joy as I stand towards the warm rays, feeling it tingle on my face.
When I dally too long Lorn is sent out to fetch me, snapping me out of my reverie.
One such morning I am squatting in the coop collecting eggs when I hear a horse gallop nearby and a man calling out, “fetch me Nerius!” As the horse comes to a halt.
I hear the crunch of boots on gravel as he dismounts.
Through a little wire window in the coop I can see the back of a man that has shoulder-length, wavy red hair.
He is broad shouldered and has a beautiful sword strapped diagonally along his back over his brown vest. His white sleeves are rolled up to show his muscled forearms that I notice tense as he grips the reins as he looks to where another set of boots are now crunching in the gravel.
I lean into the window in an attempt to get a closer look but I accidentally trip on a chicken and stomp on its foot, causing it to let out a big squawk.
I quickly duck down so the man can’t see me.
Thankfully, when I peek back through the window he is facing away from me again, stroking his horse.
Nerius is striding over to where they are standing, his face scrunched in agitation.
I duck back down so he doesn’t catch me spying.
Although he saved me from the vargs’ abuses when they were hauling me to the estate, I still fear him and do not wish to get on his bad side.
Nerius stops a healthy distance away from the massive horse and crinkles his nose at the fresh droppings it just let loose. “Where have you been, young Master? We had expected you back weeks ago when we sent word out that she had been captured,” Nerius says.
“I thought I caught wind of my sister’s whereabouts.
There were reports of a rebel group being seen in the forest not an hour's ride south-west of here. I trusted you had everything under control here and I had only received word of the girl being taken from our men when I stopped at Inverdell last night. I rode home as soon as I could when I heard we apprehended her sister instead,” the man explains, sounding annoyed.
I recognize his voice but do not know where I would have heard it before.
His sister… Does Oleander have a brother?
I tuck that question away, the piece of information that sparks my interest is of Oleander’s rebel group possibly being nearby.
It must be the Sylvans, how many rebel groups could there be?
I hold onto this information with dear life as my mission is sparked within me once again.
How could I have sat here not doing anything for so long? This is a sign, this is my chance.
“Ah yes, the sister… There is a development on that but I will let your father fill you in. Regardless, it is good you are home now, Master, as Lord Galeheart and Lord Clayborn are arriving this afternoon and will be staying for the next few days to discuss the recent climate events and how trade has been affected. You are needed by your father’s side to tell us of your discoveries on your travels and what reports you have from the Palace.
There will be a formal dinner tomorrow evening in which they will be making plans regarding these issues,” Nerius informs as he grabs the reins of the man’s horse and directs them around the corner and out of my earshot.
He’s been to the Palace, is that where The King is? Has he come to take me there?
I run out of the coop with a quick glance to the kitchen doors to check if Lorn is around but I find I am alone. I hurry to the side of the building so I can better hear, being careful to not crack the eggs I have held in my bunched up apron.
“Where is the girl? Did the vargs harm her?” the man questions with what sounds like concern in his tone as they walk in the direction of the stables.
At that moment the recognition strikes me like lightning. I know where I recognize his voice from and confirm it as he turns to Nerius, sweeping his hair behind his ear and exposing his profile to me.
The man from my visions.
Embrys… Is Oleander’s brother? I feel a physical tug to chase after him but before my body can betray me the kitchen door creaks open.
“Nuria! What are you doing? Get back here or we are both going to get in trouble!” I whip around to see Lorn’s big, green head sticking out of the kitchen door and frantically waving me back inside, in my surprise I nearly drop all of the eggs, hissing as I right myself.
I glance at the spot where Embrys had just been before shaking off the shock of being so close to the man who has been with me since childhood.
Sudden doubt sours my gut when the thought enters my mind that perhaps he does not actually know me and everything has been a figment of my imagination.
It should not matter to me, as escape is at the forefront of my mind, but it does.
All I just heard has sparked the beginnings of a plot for my escape and hope blooms within me once again. An hour’s ride to the south west should be doable if I time it right.
I’m coming for you Marissa!