XIII | CLEANING TIME
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Now, she was staring at a portly little man, who hadn't seemed to notice she was standing behind him.
He was humming a tune, and while Celvene didn't recognize the song, it was beautiful.
The smell of fresh herbs and soap surrounded her.
She'd almost missed the door, but it felt like she could've stomped through the hallways in search of this room and Tycho wouldn't have noticed.
She cleared her throat. Nothing. She shifted her weight. Nothing. She tapped her foot against the ground. Again, nothing.
"Hello?" she finally said. The man jumped, swiveled on his heel, and widened his dark blue eyes.
"Oh!" the man said, blinking owlishly. "Who are you? I haven't seen you around."
"I'm Celvene," she replied, deciding to leave her full name out of the conversation.
Somehow, it felt even more undignified for her to use her full name.
She'd heard awful stories from her mother, who had worked as a servant for a year before moving to the circus, and it deterred her from wanting to do any of this.
The company was rude, the work was never ending, the pay was awful, and Celvene had a hunch it would be the same here.
She appreciated the work of servants, no doubt, and she wouldn't have minded doing it under any other circumstances.
To go from the prospective queen to a servant was.
.. discouraging. But that was why she was doing this.
Perhaps she'd pick up useful skills while she was at it.
One of the man's eyes shut, then the other, before they both opened. "Oh. Nice to meet you, friend. My name is Tycho. Are you visiting royalty? You're far too pretty to be from around here."
"I've lived here for years," she replied. "But thank you. I'm supposed to be working as a servant. Is this the right place?"
"You?" Tycho stared at her for a long moment, his black brows furrowing. Then he shrugged. "The more, the merrier. We've been short staffed for a while now. Do you know how to get blood out of cotton, by any chance?"
"I can't say I do."
"Shame. I'll teach you. We haven't managed to get the blood out of King Virion's pillow yet." Celvene bit back a shiver of disgust. They were keeping the pillow Virion was murdered on? "Have you moved into the castle yet?"
"No," Celvene said, looking around. The room they were in was more of a closet, packed to the brim with cleaning supplies. There was enough room for both Tycho and her to squeeze inside, but not much more; if she wanted to move, she was going to have to inch herself out the same way she came in.
"I can show you," Tycho mused. "Oh, but I didn't ask. Did you want to work in cleaning? Or gardening? Or cooking? I must warn you that we don't allow the chefs to kill people with the food."
"Well, I don't think you need to worry about me killing the castle staff.
That's not in my interests," Celvene said, backing out of the closet.
Was killing people in the castle common, or was Tycho just odd?
She frowned. "Were you in the middle of something?
I'd hate to have interrupted. I'm sure I can find the quarters by myself. "
"Nonsense, my lady." Tycho made his way out of the closet, readjusting his black coat. It was spotted with white streaks. At the top, a striped blue bowtie hung around his neck. "Come. I can introduce you to the others and show you where you'll be sleeping."
She followed Tycho, surveying the castle as they made their way along the tall corridors.
It was a collection of sharp edges and black tones, constructed brick by brick.
The clean scent that had enveloped her faded in favor of a mixture of saltwater and flowers.
Tycho soon came to a stop in front of an open door and headed inside after glancing at Celvene.
The room was far larger than the cleaning closet, with rows of beds, tucked with blue quilts and white pillows, positioned against the walls.
There were a few employees sitting on their mattressesbeds—tying their shoes, polishing an item, and one was sleeping—who looked up when Celvene and Tycho entered.
Some smiled, while others returned to their tasks with sullen frowns.
Tycho beamed, waving to the employees whose gazes lingered on Celvene.
"This is nice," Celvene commented. It was certainly far larger than what she was used to, though she had the luxury of privacy in her own home. "Is there a schedule the staff follows?"
"We wake up when the sun rises, and we sleep when it sets," Tycho said.
He wrapped his jacket tighter as a draft from one of the open windows blew through the room.
The sun yawned through the stained glass.
"You can take short breaks throughout the day when you finish your work, but we prefer to be working at all times. "
"And you enjoy this?"
"Of course! There is no greater honor than serving the kingdom, and by extent, our next king," said Tycho.
Innocence glittered in his eyes. Celvene suspected that he hadn't even known that Aleksandr had no legitimate claim to the throne, nor that the true queen was standing right next to him.
"I do prefer specific tasks over others, but I'm not picky.
Anything that needs completing will be done. "
"You seem like a great worker."
"You will be too when you're taught how things work around here. Oh, but I should show you around the castle! You'll need to memorize the layout so you don't need someone helping you around," he said. "When do you plan to move in?"
Celvene froze. She hadn't even thought about that. "Uh... whenever is most convenient?"
"Well, that would have been now, but I doubt you're coming into the castle with nothing on you. Does tomorrow work?"
"Sure," she replied. She'd have to find her landlord and give an official notice, pack up her things, and run back to the castle. "Will you show me around the grounds as well?"
After a moment of continuing to ramble on, Tycho finally led her back to the closet, shoved a pail of sudsy water and a sponge in her hands, flashed a wide smile, a thumbs up, and scurried away, leaving Celvene to her own devices.
It had happened so fast she barely had time to process any of it.
She tucked her head down and got to work, allowing herself to lose her train of thought as she mindlessly scrubbed the floors.
But with each passing minute, her body ached more and more—and she knew it wasn't because of the physical nature of the work.
She pushed her headdress back, sighing. Digging her brush deeper into the tile, the dirt finally started to give way, but Celvene couldn't bring herself to feel pleased.
She appreciated the people who made the castle look presentable, and she'd taken on similar jobs at both of her circuses, but the work made her back hurt and her skin grimy.
It was something she avoided at all costs—she often conveniently caught a case of the contagious sniffling snores on the nights Korvin asked her to clean the tent's walls.
Two pairs of footsteps approached her, but she kept her head down and continued to clean.
She didn't need more people to recognize her.
She'd already been embarrassed when Khamisi had witnessed her bowing to Aleksandr. Afterwards, she hadn't even been able to find him.
She had a feeling the guards had ushered him off the castle's grounds.
She didn't want to think of the alternative.
"We need to hurry! They're waiting for me!" a voice, younger than Celvene's, said. The footsteps hurried into a frantic run. Celvene couldn't keep her curiosity satiated any longer and looked up, but as soon as she did, she was greeted by a pair of legs tripping over her hunched body.
The collision didn't hurt her, but judging by the pained yelp of the person who had fallen over her, it had hurt them.
In the air, a few books floated above them; the others had fallen to the ground.
As Celvene dove to gather the scattered books, she noticed they were rough and aged, like they were ancient texts just taken from a library.
A moment later, a different voice spoke.
"Oh gods, I am so sorry, miss!" A girl, definitely younger than Celvene, stared at her with wide, dark green eyes and a trembling lip.
Her pale peach skin was slick with sweat, and her brown hair was tousled like she'd been running for her life.
She pushed her books to the side and grabbed the sponge that had taken a tumble out of Celvene's hands when the girl had walked into her.
The girl placed both of her hands on the sponge and scrubbed the floor with rapid pushes. She was... cleaning for Celvene?
"What... are you doing?" Celvene finally managed to say after a moment of stunned silence.
"I'm cleaning the mess I made! No one should have to fix up after me."
"It was an honest mistake," said Celvene, then looked up to the girl's companion, who had a towering stack of scrolls and potions clutched in his hold. "I'd watch your step. It's wet around here."
"Don't worry!" the boy responded, moving to the left and narrowly missing the puddle.
He had darker skin than the girl and shaggy hair, but Celvene couldn't see much more.
"I'm not as clumsy as Izendra. And I have lots of experience carrying a ton of books around, unlike her.
It's part of my job. I'm sure you can tell she doesn't work here. I brought her as a visitor."
"Don't listen to him," Izendra said. "I'll be working here one day."
"Where do you work now?"
"Down on the pier as an assistant to the fishermen. It smells. Real bad. I can't wait to get out of there."
"Yeah, I can relate. My last job wasn't too luxurious either."
And neither is this one.
"Wait," the boy breathed, lowering his stack of items. His light eyes studied Celvene's face for a moment before they widened. "You're the girl the sword chose, aren't you? You're becoming queen soon!"
"I think it's an important distinction that I'm supposed to become queen," replied Celvene, offering a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think it's happening any time soon."
If she was feeling daring, she'd go on a rant about how unjust Aleksandr's treatment of her was.
But judging by the boy's clothing, he was affiliated with the castle in some way.
The fabric of his shirt and pants looked to be a far higher quality than what Celvene was used to, and even his scarf shimmered under the dim light.
Izendra, however, looked like she'd been plucked straight off the streets of Aizasea. She wore an itchy-looking white dress that reached her knees and a pair of sandals, and nothing more. What was she doing in the castle? Was she an employee?
"A queen? Wow!" Izendra said. "It's admirable you're working to clean the castle then, miss. Most people wouldn't want to touch dirty floors. Myself included."
"Yeah. Admirable."
"I heard there wa—"
"Oh, Celvene!" a voice sang from down the hall. Celvene glanced over her shoulder, and Tycho bounded towards her.
When he made it to her side, he gestured for the two in front of Celvene to leave. They both beamed at her, waving, before continuing on their path. Celvene waved back, her heart warm.
Finally, some kindness. I've been spending so much time in the Slums I'd forgotten what it was like to be treated like I'm not some fantasy.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No. Your shift is up! Your first day is over! How do you feel? Invigorated? Excited? Sad? What was your favorite part? Your least favorite? Are you going to quit? Please tell me you aren't going to quit. We've had enough people quit on their first day this past year."
Celvene blinked at the rapid succession of questions. "It was... fine. Tiring, but fine."
"Well, you'll need to get your living quarters set up!
I doubt you had enough time earlier." Tycho snatched the pail and sponge from Celvene's hands, then grabbed a broom he had already carried.
It was honestly impressive how many items he could hold at once.
"Let's go! Dinner will be soon, and you should finish unpacking before then. "
Celvene followed him, wringing her hands together. They felt sticky from the soap, and she wondered if her skin would smell like flowers for the rest of her days.
The cleaning closet was nearby, and Tycho ran inside, tossing the pail into the corner.
The sudsy water splashed onto his skin, but he didn't seem to mind.
He started to dig through one of the shelves, but he couldn't reach it thanks to his short stature.
Celvene stepped forward to offer help, though the rapping of something hard against the door frame behind them made her pause and Tycho jump.
When she turned around, Oriel was standing in the open door, lowering their cane from the middle of the frame. A squeak escaped Tycho, and he dove to the ground in a sloppy bow. Oriel cocked their head to the side.
"You don't need to bow for me, Tycho," they said, leaning against the frame. Their eyes met Celvene's. "I'm here to speak with Celvene."
"What did you do to already have gotten in trouble with Scholar Veylor?" muttered Tycho, his head still lowered. His cropped black hair was graying in the back. His voice was even lower as he whispered, "They scare me."
Oriel raised an eyebrow, but they said nothing.
"What did you need to see me for?" said Celvene, watching Tycho scoot backwards on his knees. At least she'd have someone fun around while being a servant. "Nothing good, I imagine."
"It depends on how you view things," Oriel said, turning and limping out of the door. Celvene scampered after them. With the way they spoke—a bit taut, quick, sharp...
Celvene had a hunch they weren't going to offer any good news.
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