Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, after breakfast service, the gromlins and I are working away at preparing the evening’s dinner: roast goose in a red wine sauce with honey glazed carrots, rosemary roasted potatoes and a creamy parsnip puree.
There’s a peaceful silence while we labour.
I am elbow deep in the goose’s cavity, smearing the garlic and herb butter all over, when one of the fae servants that usually ignores my presence steps down the stairs and calls over to me.
“Nuria, you are wanted as a servant for tonight’s dinner. Clean yourself up and report to Mistress Colette in the servant’s quarters,” she says, holding her head high and looking down her nose at the kitchen crew before giving me a curt nod and climbing back up the steps.
I quickly remove my hands from the goose and wipe the greasy mess on my apron as I look to Smudge for approval.
Shit, what do they want me for? This isn’t part of my plan!
Smudge doesn’t even look up from her work and just waves me off.
I have been here for ages and have never been asked to attend any other part of the house before but I make the assumption that the servant’s quarters are located in the separate building I saw when I first arrived.
I make my way out the back door and around the back of the house.
As I round the corner I notice a beautiful flower garden that I had not seen before. It is nearer to the far left side of the house and out of view of the chicken coop which I had only strayed from yesterday, when Embrys arrived.
There are roses and dahlias in shades of yellows, pinks, and reds swirling in a large spiral garden bed.
Rudbeckias of a deep orange, the shade of a sunset when a storm is rolling in and bright white daisies poke their sunny heads up here and there.
Lining the outer edges of the garden beds is some sort of well-manicured hedge that gives the garden a well-kept contrast to the bright colours of the flowers.
I can see some elderflower and perhaps apple or pear trees further back, creating a border between the gardens and the expanse of forest that encompasses the back acreages of the estate.
In the centre of the flower spiral there is a pergola covered in variegated ivy and the sight of Embrys sitting on the iron bench stops me in my tracks.
His silky red hair is tucked behind one ear, showing off his strong jawline.
The dappled light casts shadow and dancing sunlight across his face and I can see a hint of a frown knitting his eyebrows together as he concentrates.
I catch myself twirling my hair with one finger and chewing on my lip before I realize how ridiculous I look.
Stop swooning you idiot.
He pops his head up as if he senses my stare and gives me a little wave, his other hand closing his book with a snap.
I smile awkwardly and when I go to wave back I am interrupted by someone clearing their throat.
Looking up towards where the servant’s quarters are, I see a sour-faced woman with a painfully tight bun and furry tufted ears glaring at me from the doorway.
Mistress Colette I am guessing? Great. I hurry on without looking back at Embrys, my cheeks heating from the embarrassment of being caught staring like some sort of giddy schoolgirl.
“There will be none of that, Miss Nuria. You have been promoted, yes, but you are not one of them.” She motions me to hurry inside.
“Now, I am not sure why exactly you have been requested for tonight’s dinner but we have some very important guests that we must impress.
You will follow all of my rules and will not put one finger out of line to make me look bad, understood?
” she says as she leads me through a tight hallway. I grunt in response.
Some of the doors we pass are open and I peer in to see sparsely furnished rooms with sets of bunk beds and plain wooden bureaus.
We turn down another hall and end up in the laundry where a few older women, some noticeably fae from their various animal parts sticking out and some I am unsure about, working away at washing, folding and ironing.
A crisp, three-quarter sleeved black dress with a white knee length frilly apron is already laid out for me on the work table. Miss Colette motions for me to put it on.
“Hurry up now girl, we do not have all blooming day to wait for you,” she says, arms crossed and foot tapping. I nod and undress right there and then.
As I finish buttoning up the dress and tying the apron, one of the laundresses helps me undo my sloppy, half fallen out braids and pulls my hair into a tight, high bun like Mistress Colette’s.
“Much better,” she says, sizing me up and giving the laundresses a nod of approval.
“Now, come with me. You will be stationed with the girls, preparing the dining table and polishing the silver until it is time for service,” she says, turning back down the hallway we came from then taking a left turn to a larger room where a few fae servants are seated having tea and scones.
They stop their chatting to stare up at me and I have a memory flash through my mind of a morning not too long ago where I was still at home, in the human realm, walking down the stairs to see Marissa and her friends gossiping conspiratorially on the couch in the living room.
A twang of homesickness punches me in the gut but I quickly shake it off, feeling that this bunch might jump at any sort of weakness.
Their scowls say it all, I am not wanted here.
“Juniper, please see to it that this one is useful. I will check in on you periodically and when you least expect it,” is all Miss Colette says before departing, leaving me with the sneering fae.
“You heard her ladies, I am in charge,” the one named Juniper says, puffing herself up.
She is the deer fae that came to fetch me earlier.
She has dark, tan skin, the colour of Oleander’s mother’s fur and dark hair pulled up in the servant’s fashion.
She has little horns coming out of the top of her head and hooves for feet.
I ponder whether her whole legs are that of a deer and catch myself staring.
When I meet her gaze she looks utterly unimpressed at my blunder and rolls her eyes.
“Right, well come on then, let’s get to work.” She motions me to follow her as the other girls stay behind to clean up their meal.
We are lined up along the back wall of the dining hall holding our designated platters when the lords and ladies walk in.
They are dressed in their finery; the women in elegant floor length dresses made of jewel toned velvet with black lace up corsets over top and the men in three piece velvet suits with long coat tails and shining metallic buttons on the front.
The opulence of this party leaves me feeling paltry and drab in my servant’s clothing. All I want is to get Embrys to look over just once.
Come on Nuria, stop swooning over a man, this isn’t like you.
I know I have to focus and figure out how to adapt to the change of plans but so far I am coming up blank.
As they enter and find their seats they don’t even glance our way and I can feel my annoyance rise as even Embrys won’t look at me.
Their conversation from the drawing room carries on as they slowly file in.
“The lack of water seems unprecedented. Even our staff water diviners are coming up short. The King’s theories about the link between both realms must have some merit, but he shows no signs of action to remedy it.
Perhaps we should take matters into our own hands.
We must send some of your vargs over to see what they can find out about what the humans are up to.
” A tall, gangly man with a sharp nose and long, white hair gestures to Pyralis.
“The humans would never accept a varg into their ranks, or any creature-of-fae, for that matter. Besides, they are all idiots, Gaelheart. Has The King mentioned his plans to address this problem?” Pyralis responds, looking over his shoulder to the tall, sharp featured lord.
From the swirling, silver crest embroidered on his suit jacket I recognise him as the Lord of the House of Wind, a prominent family of Elemental fae that run the sprawling, wind swept lands that are east of The House of Flame.
We had a briefing before the dinner on who everyone is so we could address them appropriately if we were beckoned to speak.
“No, he has been shut in the Palace, supposedly pouring over old lore texts. He has called in the Seers of Mount Aethel but will not share his plotting as to why with any of us. I would have thought he had included you in his inner workings Pyralis,” Gaelheart says, peering down his nose at the Lord of the House of Flame.
“If we cannot send your vargs then perhaps we could send one of Clayborn’s many daughters to do the job.
They aren’t useful for much else and there are far too many of them to marry them all off successfully.
Why not Eunice?” Gaelheart says, raising a questioning eyebrow at Clayborn, the portly, red-faced head of the House of Soil.
Clayborn chuckles and nods along, not even denying that his daughters are good for anything other than marriage and breeding.
I am trying to keep my expression trained into a neutral mask but have to bite my lip to stop from shouting at these lunatics. I see why Oleander left.
“Come now, Gaelheart, she would be stuck with the humans and have to live out a mortal life. Even you are not that cruel,” Embrys replies nonchalantly.
I try to catch his eye but he ignores me as he walks towards his designated chair.
His association with these men irks me. How can I be attracted to someone who believes in this treatment of women?
Is he just playing along? I bloody hope he is…