Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SERAFINA
“The blue one. No. No. Not that blue one. The other blue one. The one that matches my eyes,” Lady Penelope demanded.
Oh, that blue dress. The soulless blue that matched her vile eyes. The same eyes that were quick to flood with tears anytime she didn’t get what she wanted.
The high ruler’s daughter lounged on her rumpled bed, head propped on her hand. I replaced the last blue dress she’d rejected and produced another in an identical shade.
She gave it a slow, appraising squint, then flopped back in a fit of lace and garters. “Ugh! I have nothing to wear. Daddy doesn’t understand.”
“How about one of the green dresses?”
Penelope snapped upright as if I’d suggested she wear sackcloth, an ugly snarl distorting her features. “Green? I can’t wear green to a comet celebration. What the hell do you know about ladies’ fashion anyway, you fat buffoon?”
“Absolutely nothing, my lady.” I forced my face into an obedient mask, revealing no emotion.
“That’s right. Nothing. Why Daddy insists on saddling me with you instead of a proper lady’s maid, I’ll never understand.”
I’d been remarkably patient with the brat—saint-like, really—given the number of times I’d resisted smacking her. Not that it mattered. In Penelope’s eyes, I was little more than a worthless slave. And in her more generous moods, a fat buffoon, a boorish ignoramus, or an ugly trollop.
The irony? We could pass for sisters—close in age, nearly identical in build. The only differences were my wild flame-red hair and her dull, rust-colored mop.
“If we don’t get you dressed soon, my lady, you’ll be late for the celebration feast.” As usual. The lazy noble had never been on time to anything her whole life.
“I know that, you imbecile. Do you think I don’t know that?”
I ignored her rancid outburst, keeping my tone even. “I hear Cookie has prepared her special honey cakes for the evening meal.”
That got her attention. Penelope sniffed, pretending she wasn’t swayed. “Very well. I suppose the pink will do.” She moved to the middle of the room, raising her arms so I could dress her. The pink made her face look blotchy and her hair brassy. But what did a buffoon like me know?
Like most Puritan gowns, it swaddled her from ankle to wrist to chin, preventing even a small glimpse of bare skin.
And yet it was still a fine example of Penelope’s penchant for excess with its heavily layered skirt.
There was enough fabric in the one dress to clothe half of the women in the village.
If the seamstress thought to use the excess to give the bony woman curves, she’d failed.
I cinched the laces tight while Penelope tapped her foot in irritation. “For fate’s sake. Hurry up, you simpleton. You’ve already made me late enough as it is.”
Once I slid her slippers on and tamed the last of her tightly coiled hair, she flounced to the door. “And do clean up the disaster you created while I’m gone.”
I eyed the heap of rejected blue gowns, an entire garment graveyard on her floor. “As you wish, Princess Pain-in-My-Ass,” I grumbled under my breath.
After wrangling the discarded dresses back into their wardrobe, I straightened the room, then laid her sleeping gown over the foot of her bed.
That done, I headed out to eat dinner while I had a few minutes to spare.
I’d barely taken two steps into the hallway when a disdainful voice brought me to a stop.
“Serafina.”
My shoulders hitched, the sound of my name brambles that twisted around my legs, rooting me in place. “Master Mortis.”
“Where were you off to in such a hurry earlier?”
I turned to face him, preferring not to have him at my back. “Beg your pardon, sir?”
He closed the space between us in three long strides. “I saw you on the trail to the lower pastures. You weren’t visiting that shepherd boy again, were you?”
Mortis’ build was lean, and yet his height still allowed him to tower over me in such a way that I felt like a mouse before a raptor.
His face was hawkish, and his dark hair gleamed with the unnatural sheen of overused pomade.
The sickly sweet scent of moth-repellent sachets clung to his clothes, thick enough to coat my tongue.
“Yaga sent me to collect herbs.”
“Herbs, was it?” He tugged the starched collar of his high-necked shirt. “Herbs you happened to find in the pasture, no doubt.” His eyes narrowed to slits, slicing deep into mine as if to carve out my darkest secrets. “What do you and that boy get up to when you’re together?”
“Sir?”
“Come now.” His narrow lips curled on one side. “You know better than to think you can hide things from me.”
I stiffened. Though he was my superior, I’d learned that if I didn’t push back, a tiny bit, his insinuations would only grow more vile.
“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.
I checked on Speck while I was in the area because he is a youth with a disability whom I am treating.
” Also, spending time with him made my meager existence tolerable.
“Youth, you say?” He tipped his head back, granting me an unobstructed view up his nostrils. “By my measure, he’s only a few summers younger than you.”
Gah! And there went that wiggling nose hair.
“Seven summers apart, exactly. And I really must be going. As you know, it’s a busy night,” I said, my tone clipped.
“Always rushing,” he purred in a way he likely believed was seductive.
“You do realize, if you’d marry me, I could make you an honest woman.
A free woman. The high ruler would bless our union once I paid your bride price.
” It wasn’t the first time he’d dangled my freedom before me like a poisoned apple.
Still, I’d no desire to trade one master for another, least of all Mortis. Better to stay chained than shackled to him. Unlike most women my age, I had little interest in husbands or suitors. Not that I would ever trust anyone with my affections.
“Serafina?” Rose, one of the housemaids, called from the end of the hallway.
Uttering a low growl of annoyance, Mortis stepped back.
“Cookie said to fetch you. You’re, um…” Rose’s eyes flicked to the steward before darting away, “needed in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Rose. I’m headed there now,” I said quickly, seizing her excuse like a woman drowning. I slipped past Mortis, the air between us thick with his irritation.
“Don’t let me catch you dawdling again, Serafina. I’ll not tolerate laziness on my watch,” Mortis snarled to cover his actions, his cheeks reddening. With a brisk turn, he stalked off, the heels of his highly polished boots clipping along the floor.
I exhaled slowly, watching Mortis’ back recede until he turned the corner and was blessedly gone. Only then did I let my shoulders drop.
“You okay?” Rose whispered, giving me a quick head-to-toe.
“Fine,” I answered, hoping she wouldn’t notice the anxious rattle in my voice. Mortis was getting far more assertive in his attempts to persuade me. What would happen when he stopped taking no for an answer? I shivered at the thought. “Let’s make our way to the kitchen.”
Side by side, Rose and I slipped into the narrow servants’ corridors and downstairs to the cramped dining hall.
Most of the household staff were already gathered, shoulders brushing in the tight space.
Unlike me, each of them was a free soul, earning a modest wage for their labor.
Rose and I claimed two seats near the end of the bench, filling our plates and tucking into our suppers.
I’d just stuffed my cheeks with honey bread when Winnie, one of the maids, asked, “Did you hear what happened in Graycott?”
I shook my head, pressing my fingers to my too-full mouth.
Not one to let an interesting story get in the way of good manners, Gingus mumbled through a wad of half-chewed food, “Heard they were attacked. The creatures rose from under the ground, killing their menfolk, stealing their women, and eating their babies.”
Cookie hustled over, frizzy blonde curls eluding her cap, plump cheeks red from leaning over her pots.
She dropped a tray loaded with turnips before us and smacked the back of the valet’s head.
“Gingus Sheplynn, best you get to putting some food into that belly of yours instead of the mead you’ve been drinking. It’s addled your brain.”
Chuckles sounded around the table.
I snorted into my cup, careful not to laugh too loud.
Since even the staff considered indentured slaves beneath them, it was a kindness that they let me eat with them.
A place I’d earned once I was assigned to serve Lady Penelope—a duty they likened to torture.
Some had even become friendly after I’d received my assignment.
My being Penelope’s personal servant had taken the burden of tending the harridan off their shoulders.
This great honor was granted to me partly because I couldn’t quit. Mortis had grown weary of replacing the hired help. Also, I was but one of a handful of people she didn’t make cry on a daily basis.
Not someone to be dissuaded, Gingus slapped the table. “Ain’t the mead that’s addled folks but that darn comet that’s bearing down on us. I tell you, strange occurrences have been happening since its return.”
Maybe Gingus wasn’t as crazy as everyone believed. The comet. Yes! The odd experiences I’ve had since my birthday may be due to its arrival. If that were the case, then once it was gone, I would return to my unremarkable self.
Rose spoke up, eyes wide in her small heart-shaped face. The bighearted housemaid was the closest thing I had to a friend around here. “I heard talk there was a bula calf born with two heads the other day.”
“That right there proves it.” Gingus puffed out his chest, suddenly the authority on all things unnatural.
“Look at the effect one celestial event is having on our land. Monsters rising up, babies with deformities… Next, it will be plague and drought. This is why we stay the course. Why magic ought to be wiped clean from the realm.”
“Hear, hear,” someone called from the far end of the table. Other voices rose, joining in.
They were a superstitious lot for a group who’d turned their backs on magic. Oh, the irony.
As if the comet itself were listening, the table shuddered beneath my forearms, my bench vibrating against my bottom. Gasps broke out as plates rattled against the coarse wooden surface.
When the trembling stopped, nervous laughter twittered around the room.
The ground tremors had started a few months ago and were growing more frequent. Scholars claimed it was frost quakes. Many caves and underground streams existed under our village. The freezing and thawing of those streams put pressure on the bedrock, causing the vibrations. Or so they insisted.
Whatever the cause, it set my skin crawling.
The fellow next to Gingus pounded his back. “Well done. Well done. That was some ghost story. I could almost feel the ground goblins rising under my ass.”
Laughter erupted. My own nervous chuckles joining in.
Because every Puritan knew, magical creatures like goblins—and dragons—didn’t live in places like Nefarr.