Chapter 12 #2
A male fae pulls out the chairs for each guest and as they are seated the servants with the selected wines move forward to fill the goblets.
It is all a very well-orchestrated dance and my part is up next.
I have to take a steadying breath to be able to convince my feet to move and my hands to serve.
I start with the wife of Lord Clayborn, a sickly pale woman with black hair and red stained lips.
My task is to scoop potatoes on their plates until a hand shoots up as my signal for when to stop.
I nearly drop the whole platter in Lady Clayborn’s lap because she was inches away from slapping me in the face but I managed to do a little twirl to keep my balance, making it all look like part of the show.
I hear a low chuckle and look up to catch Embrys’ eye for a brief moment before he continues his conversation with Gaelhert’s wife.
I make my way around the table, counterclockwise, without any word from either Embrys or Pyralis but as I reach Lord Gaelheart he suddenly grasps my wrist and pulls me closer, nearly knocking the platter out of my hands.
“Now where did you get this fine specimen, Pyralis? I thought you did not partake in the keeping of slaves but alas, you have outdone us all. She is a beauty, not a single animal part to be seen. Unless it is hiding underneath,” he says, eyeing up my body with a prowling sweep of his eyes.
I can feel my cheeks go red but the rage I feel trumps the embarrassment. His wife’s face remains cool and distant.
“She’s not human though is she? Those are even rarer to come by. I will win that young one off you one day.”
Does he mean Lillian? How dare he? What is this backwards realm?
I clench my jaw to keep from growling in his face but am met with his disgusting thoughts instead.
I will steal this one away later; I will find out for myself what hides beneath that frock, I hear before I can peel my eyes away to keep from hearing the rest.
I catch Embrys’ eye and he subtly shakes his head. Leave it be Nuria, go back to the kitchens. His low, soothing voice rumbles through my mind and I look down to see that my hands are trembling.
I can’t be here anymore without throwing these potatoes at the heads of these revolting fae so I turn to leave through the back door but Juniper steps in my way, blocking the door.
“Turn around and act normal or you will make us all look bad. You can go fetch the dessert in a moment,” she whispers, nudging me to get back to my spot along the wall.
Pyralis scoffs at Gaelheart’s last remark.
“She owed me a debt. It is true, I do not go out of my way for slaves, Gaelheart, but this one seems to have fallen into my service,” he says as the lords and ladies laugh at my predicament.
“And unfortunately for you, Miss Lillian is not for sale. She is not my slave but rather my employee and I have taken a liking to her,” he adds.
I stand still, staring at the wall, envisioning the whole table on fire until Juniper finally dismisses me to go fetch the dessert platter.
I burst into the kitchen seething, tears streaking down my cheeks. The gromlins all stop their work to look up at me and I can see the concern written on all of their faces.
These creatures care for me… Ok, new plan. I storm down the steps and bee-line straight to Olaf, my best bet, as I let my tears and rage fully take over my expressions.
“Nuria! What has happened?” Olaf says, dropping the dough he was just kneading, dusting his hands on his apron.
“I am a slave Olaf! Look!” I show him my brand, and can see the signs of his impending flip already taking shape as his hands start to shake and his eyes go wide.
“Wh-what? What did they do?” he says with a shaky voice, and I have a split second of guilt about what I am about to do before I keep pushing.
“They laughed! One of them said he is going to take me to his rooms later tonight and hurt me, Olaf!” I say, my voice reaching a high pitch of feigned hysteria. Olaf’s eyes turn red, steam is shooting out of his ears and I can see the gromlins closer to him start to shake, as well.
“Olaf! Dunk your head, quick!” Smudge yells from across the room, but I cannot let this trainwreck stop now so I spin around with my wrist in the air so the whole room can see.
“They keep gromlins as slaves too! Imagine the horrors they do to your brethren!” I yell, feeling like the brave leader of a rebellion riling everyone up for a revolt, but in truth I am just an agent of chaos. “Will you just stand-by and do nothing?”
I am unsure what a room full of flipped gromlins will involve and realize I should probably get out of there so I don’t find out. Before I can even step towards the back door I hear a roar come from behind me and turn to see Olaf, in his fully flipped form.
He is twice his regular size, now taller than me, with bulked arms, sharp protruding teeth and red, piercing eyes.
His erratic breathing and darting eyes show me that this is no longer the Olaf I know and have come to care for.
I duck down, crawling under the work table and can see the feet of the surrounding gromlins transform one by one as the whole room flips.
The chaos is more than I could have wished for.
Anything they can get their hands on is thrown, smashed or ripped apart.
Sauces are being painted on the walls, ceramic plates and bowls are crushed into dust and they have all ripped their aprons off and set them on fire, waving them around like the flags of rebellion that they are.
When the kitchen is left in tatters they start running up the steps of the servant’s entrance and spilling out into the house, hooting and roaring in their frenzy as they go.
“Well, that bloody worked,” I laugh, unbelieving at the sight of demolition, as I poke my head up from under the table to make sure they are all gone. I allow myself only the briefest moment to take in the destruction before running out the back door.
I cannot see any of the vargs patrolling outside so I creep my way along the back of the house, stopping before each illuminated window to peer inside to make sure no one is looking but all I see is ruination.
The vargs are running around the house, throwing buckets of water at the flailing gromlins and the lords and ladies are cowering in various corners, begging the gromlins not to hurt them.
I hope the gromlins will be all right… I worry about what their punishment might be but hope that since this is in their nature that Pyralis will see it as his own risk for employing them.
I take one last look through the window then I stay true to my course and make my way to the stables, where I hope Lillian managed to enact her part of the original plan.
Arriving at the stables, I see there is a horse already saddled and ready to go with a sword strapped to its side.
You good man, Jacob! I look around but neither Jacob nor Lillian is in sight.
I hope they aren’t in the house! I pause, looking back at the house full of pandemonium but know that this is my only chance, I cannot go back.
I turn to the horse and pat its nose while looking in its eye.
I am Nuria, I need your help. Please will you help me?
The horse snorts, blasting warm air on my face, and nods its head but does not verbally reply to my request. It seems to have understood but perhaps this is not a Metamorph as Durga was and is just a regular horse.
I’m entirely not sure how my powers work.
Perhaps I cannot communicate with regular animals.
I step up into the saddle, feeling brave and ready for what lies ahead as I give the horse a little kick and we shoot out of the stable at a full gallop. I don’t look back but for a moment I swear I can hear Embrys’ voice in my head. Nuria, where are you? What have you done?!