Chapter 5
“Who are you?” the Ice Prince roared.
“I…I—”
“What’s your name? And who sent you?” he asked, his voice predatory. “Speak!” White wisps of mist formed at his mouth and trailed up.
“I—I’m Cordelia Wildheart. I’m—I’m nobody.”
“Nobodies do not sneak up on Fae like that, and nobodies do not play tricks on them.”
I wanted to tell him not to blame me for his inattentiveness, for his assumptions.
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but my throat ran dry and my mouth failed me.
I was stunned and frozen—frozen like the ice dagger he held at my neck.
Its tip burned my thin skin, and I knew it would leave a mark.
“Look at me,” he demanded. I lifted my eyes and met his own—green indeed. They glowered at me. “Who are you?”
My lips trembled as I replied, “I—I swear, I’m just a servant, no one sent me. I’ve been a servant here for—for over five years.”
I squeezed my eyes shut while he sniffed at my neck. His cold breaths brushed against my skin as he inhaled and exhaled so very close to my ear.
He pulled away. “How are you doing it?”
“W—what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Your scent. How are you hiding it?” His voice hardened, sharp with command.
“I—I don’t know what—”
“I can smell nothing but horses. Why is that, huh?”
“I—I take walks near the stables.”
His grip tightened and he pulled me near, taking in another deep breath as if…as if that was fucking normal! Goosebumps prickled my skin at the cold, misty breaths that fanned against my neck.
“People who walk by stables don’t smell like horses, Cordelia. Do you know who does? Spies. Messengers.”
“I assure you, I’m neither,” I muttered, my voice on the verge of breaking. “Please let me go.”
His hold loosened, but his eyes did not soften, and before moving out of my path, he threw the ice dagger into the now-empty glass and said, “Here, you can have your glass of ice.”
I scrambled down the desk and with a quivering hand, placed the silver coin next to the glass. Tears rolled down my face as I rushed for the door.
My lungs tightened.
My fingertips went to my raw neck and I winced, but I didn’t dare slow my pace until I’d made it around the hallway.
Then I rested both of my hands against the wall, my head tilted forward, and took deep, counted breaths.
The carpet absorbed my tears like sand does water on the rare occasions of a drizzle.
It took me longer than I would have liked to recollect myself, and as I wiped my face, I couldn’t believe my own thoughts.
I wished that Mounir would arrive earlier than anticipated so that he would remove me from the Ice Prince’s service.
I knew he would—he was not going to leave anything that Farah ordered in place, and I couldn’t wait to be relieved from him.
I replaced my sewing box in its hiding place, then washed my face with the little remaining water before making my way into the servants’ kitchen and offering my help.
I needed something to do, I needed to distract myself.
So I chopped onions, an excuse for my reddened eyes, and I washed and peeled potatoes, saving the skins for our own meal—potato-skin soup.
The gathering of servants reminded me about the meeting, and by that time, I had already decided—I would not serve Lord Aegir ever again.
“Where’s Sabriela?” Farah asked.
“I’m here!” Sabi said as she swiftly entered the kitchen, fitting herself in between Nadya and me.
I managed to offer her a warm smile. She was still practically a child, a few days shy of fourteen, forced by her adoptive parents to work from such a young age, just because her body bled early.
Farah laid out our duties, leaving me not only as Aegir’s servant but also short of the option to swap my duties with another servant.
Ralfe, Tomas, Clara, and Nadya now had early shifts.
Asking to swap with any of them would interfere with my early-morning routine with Cinnamon.
Sabriela’s shift would have been perfect, but I could never request to swap with her.
I would not let her anywhere near their sight. His sight.
“Everyone understood?”
“Yes, Farah,” everyone except for me said in a monotonous tone.
“Delia, go help Ralfe and Tomas with laundry, then come back here to help Merti with dinner.” And so I did as I was told.
I scrubbed and chopped until my hands went numb and my lower back turned stiff and sore.
I even offered to wash the dishes. I managed to lose myself in the task, washing every glass and plate that Clara kept bringing my way.
“Delia!” Farah barked. “What are you still doing here? It’s two hours past sunset, and Lord Hailin has just asked what time we will be serving him dinner!”
“Sorry, I—I forgot.”
“You forgot!? You never forget anything, Delia. Now go fetch him dinner before steam starts coming out of my ears.”
Sure, I never forget anything—anything except for the tender years of my childhood. How fucking ironic.
But I only said, “I’m sorry,” and hurried to prepare a meal made of whatever it was I could find.
I rested the tray on my hip and let out a shuddery exhale before knocking.
I found him sitting at his desk, assessing a parchment as if it were his nemesis.
In front of him sat a glass of water. I could tell it was ice-cold from the condensation on its surface.
And next to it, something silver. I quickly set up his table, then took hurried and silent steps towards the door, never looking his way.
I reached for the handle.
“Were you planning on slowly starving me to death, Cordelia?” Lord Aegir drawled.
Fear turned into anger, and I snapped at him, “Would you rather I do it quick? Perhaps an ice dagger to your throat.” His unmoved expression enraged me.
“Speaking of ice, you left these here,” he said, gesturing to the glass and the silver.
“You can keep them.”
“But they’re yours. My end of the bargain. You must take them.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” I murmured, before closing the door behind me.