Chapter 6 #3
Tibbs froze, the strip of meat forgotten in his hand. Annie's head came up from where it had been drooping toward Tibbs's shoulder.
"Goodbye to who?" Tibbs asked.
"Anyone you know. Anyone you want to see before they walk south."
"I don't have anyone," Tibbs said. His voice was flat. "My mum's dead. The other stable boys weren't—we weren't friends."
Annie shook her head. "Me neither."
"Mab?" Varek's voice was quiet against her ear. "Anyone you want to see?"
She thought about it. Really thought, turning over the faces in her memory.
Hester was dead. The other kitchen workers—she knew their names.
Knew their habits. Knew who snored and who stole extra bread and who cried in the root cellar when they thought no one could hear.
But knowing wasn't the same as caring. She'd worked beside them for years and never once felt seen by any of them.
Never once been anything but the scullion, the big one, the redhead.
"No," she said. "There's no one."
Varek's arm tightened around her waist. "Then we stay here," he said. "Until the courtyard clears."
Mab nodded. She should probably feel guilty for not wanting to bid farewell to people she'd known for decades. But the truth was simpler and sadder than guilt. She hadn't known them. She'd existed alongside them, moved through the same spaces, breathed the same air. That wasn't the same thing.
Annie's head drooped again, this time landing fully on Tibbs's shoulder. The boy didn't shrug her off. His hand came up, almost unconsciously, and patted her arm twice before settling back on the table.
"She's exhausted," Mab said quietly.
"They both are." Varek's chin brushed the top of her head as he looked toward the children. "There's a room prepared for them. Smaller than the lady's chamber, but warmer. Closer to the kitchens."
"Together?" Mab asked.
"Together. Unless they'd rather be separated."
Tibbs's head came up sharply. "No. We stay together."
"Then you stay together." Varek's voice held no argument. "Drogga will show you when you're ready. There's a bed, a fire, and a lock on the inside of the door."
The last detail caught Mab's attention. A lock on the inside. Not to keep them in, but to let them keep others out. Such a small thing. Such an enormous thing.
"What about Mab?" Annie's voice was muffled against Tibbs's shoulder, but the worry in it came through clearly.
"Mab stays with me."
Annie lifted her head, her brow furrowed. "In the same room?"
"In the same bed." Varek's voice was matter-of-fact. "She's mine. Where I sleep, she sleeps."
Annie's eyes widened. She looked at Mab, then at Varek, then back at Mab with an expression that was equal parts confusion and concern.
"It's all right," Mab said. The words came out calmer than she felt. "I'll be fine."
"But—" Annie bit her lip. "What if you need us? What if something happens?"
"Then I'll come find you." Mab reached across the table and squeezed Annie's hand.
"Can we visit?" Tibbs asked. His voice was careful, testing. "If we need to see her?"
"You can visit." Varek's thumb continued its slow circles against Mab's hip. "You're not prisoners. You're not servants. You're under my protection, which means you go where you want, when you want, as long as you don't do anything stupid."
"What counts as stupid?" Tibbs asked.
"Walking into the armory and picking fights. Wandering outside the walls alone. Trying to steal a horse." Drogga ticked the items off on his fingers. "The usual things that get young men killed."
"I wasn't planning to steal a horse," Tibbs said.
"Good. Then we won't have a problem." Drogga's grin returned, easy and warm.
"Anything else is fair game. You want to explore, explore.
You want to watch the warriors train, find a spot that's out of the way and watch.
You want to sit in the kitchen and eat until you burst, the cooks won't stop you. "
Annie's eyes were round. "We can just... do things?"
"You can just do things." Drogga leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's the secret, little one. You're not property. You're people. People do things."
The words landed somewhere in Mab's chest and stuck there. You're not property. You're people.
She'd never been property. Not technically.
Scullions were paid, however poorly, and could leave if they found somewhere else to go.
But the distinction had always felt academic.
She'd belonged to the holding the way a pot belonged to the kitchen.
Useful. Replaceable. Not worth thinking about except when something went wrong.
People do things.
"Come on." Drogga pushed back from the table and stood, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. "Let's get you two settled before you fall asleep in your porridge."
Annie scrambled off the bench, then hesitated, looking back at Mab.
"Go," Mab said. "I'll come check on you later."
Annie nodded, still uncertain, but let Drogga guide her toward the door. Tibbs followed, pausing just long enough to look back over his shoulder.
Then they were gone, swallowed by the corridor, and Mab was alone with Varek.