20. Saved by the Baird
Saved by the Baird
M uch to Jezebel’s ire, once Culis had formally acquired Mila, he made plans to return to his home the following day. Mila braced herself as she witnessed the moment when Jezebel realised he’d never actually intended to stay with her in her apartment, even though he’d heavily inferred that he would during the negotiations.
The ensuing tantrum was devastating to a number of priceless statues. Mila suspected that if Culis’s contract had not stipulated that she be delivered to him unharmed and alive, Jezebel would have found a way to ensure an unfortunate accident occurred in the few hours Mila remained with her.
Her restraint failed entirely when Culis’s black carriage, pulled by two beautiful charcoal horses, arrived in the courtyard below to collect Mila. At the sight of the somewhat lordly escort, it dawned on Jezebel that the outcome she’d assumed this contract would precipitate was not occurring. Somehow it was Mila, not her, who was going to go live with Culis, and she was about to be left all alone .
“This,” she hissed, “is unacceptable. He cannot send for you in this carriage, as though you were some honoured guest.”
Mila kept her head down and tried to look as unoffensive as she could. Her moment to escape the princess was so close she could nearly taste it, but she had to survive this last hurdle. Now that the time had come, Jezebel seemed about to renege on the deal.
“Tell me.” Jezebel suddenly whirled on Mila. “Does he love me? Does he desire me at all, or am I a pawn to him?”
“I…I don’t know,” Mila replied truthfully. “I cannot decipher his energy.”
“Liar!” Jezebel bellowed and punched Mila straight in the face.
A shooting, red pain flew through Mila’s nose. She stumbled but maintained her footing.
Jezebel raised her fist again, and Mila covered her face.
“Princess.” A deep voice at the doorway held enough authority that Jezebel checked her next blow and turned to see who it was.
A very tall, burly man with long, red hair and a thick, red beard stood in the doorway. He wore the Artor Trading Company sigil on his breast pocket and tiny gold glasses perched precariously upon his large, hooked nose.
“I’ve come to collect Master Culis’s property.”
Mila sensed Jezebel’s rage temper at his use of the word ‘property’, as though it mollified her to meet someone who viewed Mila’s status correctly.
“Get her out of my sight.” She all but threw the lead at him and shoved Mila away. “I’m sick of my quarters being tainted with such vermin.”
Mila did not hesitate. She stumbled quickly towards her saviour, and when she reached him, saw with surprise that behind him, hiding out of Jezebel’s sight in the hallway, was Jahan .
The burly, red-haired man didn’t hesitate. He took Mila’s lead in his hand, bowed swiftly to the princess, and then departed. Mila and Jahan followed.
“You were right,” the man said to Jahan when they reached the bottom floor. “I probably arrived just in time. Thanks.”
Mila looked sharply at Jahan, who nodded quietly at her. He’d been looking out for her, she realised. He’d known the danger she’d been in and somehow made sure Culis’s man reached her before Jezebel’s wrath was fully realised. That sort of protection was the last thing she’d expected from anyone in this household.
She turned to him before she entered the carriage, tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly, not daring to say more.
“Good luck,” he replied with pursed lips. His energy was unhappy. Was he sad to see her leave?
She didn’t have time to dwell on it. She had to get out of Jezebel’s reach as soon as possible. Mila stepped into the carriage with the giant man, and they departed, although she did not breathe freely until the black obsidian walls of the palace had passed well out of sight.
“It’ll be a few hours before we arrive at Culis Manor,” he said. “It lies on the outskirts of the Jeralusah regional boundary.”
This was comforting. It seemed to Mila like this was a far enough distance from the palace to have fair warning about Jezebel’s approach if she ever decided to visit.
Her companion suddenly leaned forward and wordlessly unlocked her collar. His energy was calm and pragmatic. There was no sympathy in him, only a sliver of curiosity.
“Don’t try to escape. It won’t work,” he said softly and then mercifully turned aside and lost himself in a weathered paperback.
The free air circling around her neck, and the sudden lack of Jezebel’s constant looming threat, made Mila feel as though she’d been dunked in ice water. She shivered as the reality of the change hit her, and then, blessedly, realised she was allowed to rest now.
Truly rest.
And so she closed her eyes and slept.
* * *
She was woken by the man tapping her shoulder.
“We’re here,” he said as they entered the property.
He helped her down from the carriage and led her through a back door into a kitchen and through to a small, private room. Mila was too bleary to take in many details of the house, and the man seemed to understand.
“Rest here,” he said. “No one will come in or disturb you today. If you need food, the kitchen is just there, and the cook will feed you. If you need anything else, ask for Baird and I will come. Understand?”
She nodded, grateful, exhausted. She fumbled her way over to the bed and fell asleep before Baird had even left the room.