Chapter 8
As much as I don't want to admit it, I'm exhausted from a couple of days' work at the castle.
My position might have been gained under false pretences, but I'm expected to actually do the work associated with it.
I would rather spend an entire day sparring where I lose every time than scrub another of Lady Eyre's dresses.
I let out a sigh. I've managed to make contact with her, but it's not been easy to have many conversations.
I just hope that she's going to listen to me when it's time for the plan to be put in motion.
The good news on that front is that there isn't much sneaking around necessary.
The fun part of the dragon tower gambit is that the person being conned is the one who does everything.
Lady Eyre's father will take her to the tower himself, we'll just take over from there.
"New girl!" a gruff matron calls.
I put down what I'm working on and hurry over, knowing from seeing the reprimands some of the other servants have gotten that I don't want to be seen as disobeying.
"Take these to Lady Eyre's chambers," she says, handing me a basket of linens.
"At once," I respond with a slight bob of my head, taking the basket from her.
Hopefully, this will give me the perfect opportunity to talk to Lady Eyre and assure her that everything is going the way it should be.
I can't imagine that she's particularly reassured by the fact that nothing is happening.
I leave the laundry room, getting a blast of chilly air as I do.
It's a huge change to step into the cool corridors of the castle after being in the hot humidity of the laundry room.
It isn't a long walk to Lady Eyre's chambers, and I slip through the servants' door and slip into where she sleeps.
While it's technically separated from her audience chamber, the doors are open, allowing me to see past to where she's sitting with a couple of other ladies, doing some kind of embroidery.
I don't know enough about the specific structure of this castle to know who they are, or why it's Lady Eyre's room they're in, but I have to assume they're also nobility, but of a lower rank.
I set down the basket of linens and pull open the dresser where they're supposed to be stored.
The sound draws attention from the other room, and Lady Eyre is on her feet within seconds, hurrying through to her bed chamber.
She grabs hold of my wrist a little harder than I think is really necessary. "Do you have news?"
I shake my head. "We're waiting on your father," I say quietly, making sure no one can hear us, but they aren't paying any attention. I don't know if this is the kind of thing Lady Eyre does regularly, but it doesn't seem to be raising any eyebrows amongst her attendants.
"That's not good enough." It sounds like impatience, but the expression on her face suggests there might be more to it.
"I'm sorry, we don't have any control over this part."
"Then what's the point of you being here?" she demands.
I open my mouth, trying to think of something I can say that might reassure her, but I don't come up with anything.
I know why I'm here, and that my job is very much to make sure that she doesn't stop the transfer to the tower going as planned, but it's hard to explain that when she has no reason to trust me.
The door to her chambers opens before I can say anything. For a moment, I'm relieved for the distraction.
Until I see that it's her father entering the room. The fear in her eyes deepens as she drops my wrist and moves over to where he is, dipping into a curtsy as she does.
"I have news of your betrothal," he says without even greeting her.
I stand frozen for a moment, forgetting that I'm supposed to be working. I shift the basket onto my hip and head over to the dresser where they're supposed to be stored, making myself look busy.
"There is no betrothal I'm aware of," Lady Eyre responds, lifting her chin and looking somewhat defiant despite the fear I clearly saw on her face. "No one has asked me for my hand in marriage."
"And nor will they," her father responds. "They have no need to ask you."
My eyes widen. It's not something I'm used to hearing about like this, and it's difficult to reconcile the way I've lived my life, and what's unfolding in front of me.
"I don't see why I should marry someone who has never even thought to have a conversation with me," Lady Eyre says.
I suck in a breath, already knowing that it's the wrong thing for her to say.
A loud crack sounds from across the room, and my hand slips into my pocket, finding the hole that will let me draw the knife Fen gifted me.
But the moment I touch it, I realise that I can't take it out.
They think that I'm a maid, and to all intents and purposes, they're correct.
I am a maid. They'll likely kill me for threatening the life of a noble.
"Remember your place," the lord growls at his daughter.
Anger bubbles up inside me. I know these things happen, I've heard them from the countless women the Damsels have brought through our castle, but it's another thing seeing it.
And that no one steps in. Including me.
Lord Alfson doesn't say another word and sweeps out of the room.
"Leave me," Lady Eyre says to her attendants, her voice cracking as she speaks.
I swallow hard as she turns around and reveals a deep cut on the side of her face. My anger only grows hotter. How could her father do this to her? I may not know my own father, but I saw enough of Fen's growing up that I know he would never do this to one of his children.
I grab a handkerchief from the dresser and hurry over to the pitcher by the window, filling the bowl with water so that I can soak the cloth.
A small pot of honey sits on an abandoned breakfast tray, and I grab that too.
I wish there were more herbs, but given that there's no real need to keep them in the rooms of a young lady, there aren't any.
"What are you doing?" Lady Eyre asks as I head over to her. "I told everyone to leave."
"I can help with the cut," I respond.
For a moment, I think she's going to tell me to go again, but instead, she nods.
I kneel down beside the chair she's sitting in and dip the cloth in the water. It would be better if I could be sure where it came from, but at least I have access to some.
Carefully, I dab at the wound, washing the handkerchief a few times and causing the water to turn pink.
"How do you know what you're doing?" she asks.
"I've had my share of injuries while sparring," I respond.
"Sparring? Like my brother does?"
"Yes, expect that most of the women where I'm from learn too.
" I set the cloth in the bowl and push back my sleeve so she can see the large scar there.
"I got this one the first time I switched from a wooden dagger to a metal one.
I wasn't paying enough attention, and my sparring partner cut right through my sleeve.
It hurt a lot." I smile at the memory. Vasia had been devastated that she'd hurt me like that, but I'd gotten her back unintentionally a few days later, which had made both of us feel better.
"That sounds like such a different life from the one I've had," she says.
"It'll be different again soon enough," I promise, trying to think about how I might be able to hurry Fen up with the plan to convince Lord Alfson to move her to the tower.
"It will be interesting to see the world beyond these walls."
"Is that why you contacted the Damsels?" I ask as I smear some of the honey over the cut on her cheek. "That'll be sticky, but it's good for stopping an infection."
"I contacted the Damsels because I didn't have another choice. My father wants to marry me to a man three times my age. A man who has had three wives in the space of five years, and not one of them has made it to five-and-twenty."
I grimace. "I'm sorry."
"Perhaps you are, but you're also no doubt glad that it isn't you."
"I am," I say. "But it shouldn't be you either."
"Except that it is. And it's the same for most of the daughters who have grown up in Drakaron.
They're sold into marriage at their father's convenience, and sometimes even sold back if the marriage doesn't go as planned.
It's never their choice, never in their control. This is just what life is like."
"I'm sorry," I repeat.
"I'm sure you do what you can," she responds. "You can go now." There's no denying the dismissal in her tone, and I nod, getting to my feet and taking the bowl and dirty handkerchief with me. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with them, I just know that I can't leave them here.
I head towards the servants' door, pausing to look back at Lady Eyre. She almost seems like she's in a daze as she sits staring off into the distance. My heart aches, and the anger that's been bubbling under the surface since her father entered the room still lingers there.
I need to get through the rest of the day of work so that I can slip down to the inn and try to find out if we can speed up the process of getting Lady Eyre to safety, though I'm starting to wonder if that's enough.