Chapter Four #2
I think of my mom and grandma again, and breathing hurts. Blinking stings. “I just want to go home.
“I know you do,” Matthias says quietly. He takes a beat, then lays his hand on the table with forced optimism. “Let’s look ahead now. For the time being, your best course of action is to keep your head down and try not to attract too much notice.”
I give him a sardonic glance. “I’m going to be the queen in less than two days.”
“That’s unfortunate. New plan: become the most famous woman in England while also not attracting too much notice. Come back to see me in a week and I’ll let you know what I’ve found. And try to have some fun while you’re here.”
“Fun?” I ask as he pulls me up to a standing position.
“It’s possible.” He’s leading me to the door now. “You can make friends. You can read. Maybe you’ll learn to embroider.”
“I know how to embroider,” I tell him as he gently shoves me into the hallway. “It’s a passion of mine.”
“There you go! Who knows, in a week’s time, maybe you’ll change your mind and want to stay.”
The mist in his head must have told him I’m considering stabbing him, because he quickly steps farther back into his room. “Or maybe not. See you in a week!” He slams the door shut in my face, and I’m left standing alone in the dimly lit hallway.
I should get back to the party. I need to blur this grim reality, and that stank-ass wine is calling my name. My real name.
An hour later, Bessie has finished up with Bartholomew’s cousin’s leg and has dropped me off just outside my door. Unfortunately, I’m still sober. I tried to drink more wine, but my esophagus told me to fuck off. I’m sure I’ll learn to love it.
I grip the iron latch and push the door with my shoulder, wondering how I’m going to Houdini out of this dress, when I find a young woman in the center of the room. She’s spinning in a circle as she pets the fur wrap she’s wearing, seeming lost in a daydream.
I close the door behind me, and the sound of the latch falling sends her now-panicked eyes straight to mine.
“Forgive me!” she cries out, flinging the fur off her shoulders. “Forgive me, my lady! I shouldn’t have done it!”
She starts backing away from me, and I immediately go into de-escalation mode. “It’s all right,” I tell her, lowering my tone of voice and maintaining eye contact. “Take a breath. Everything is all right.”
She drops to her knees on the hard stone floor, grabbing for the fur and holding it up to me.
“I was waiting to undress you for the night and the king sent it. I was only going to touch it, but it was so soft, and it felt so good. Oh God, I couldn’t help myself!
” She drops the fur back to the floor and buries her face in her hands.
I walk to her slowly and bring myself to her eye level. “It makes sense that you’re frightened right now, but I promise you that it’s fine.”
Her face is flushed, and her jaw is tense. Her breathing is dangerously shallow. “They’re going to toss me out of the palace,” she yelps. “I have nowhere to go. I’ll die of shame! Please, my lady! Please!”
I take her shaking hand in mine and look around the bedroom.
My gaze lands on the washbasin and cloth on a side table, and I rush over to reach them.
I douse the cloth in the ice-cold water before I squat back down in front of her as she gasps for breath.
The last thing I see is her startled stare before I push the cloth onto her eyes like a pie to the face.
“You’re having a very strong reaction right now and that is absolutely fine.
” I make sure to keep my voice clear and steady.
The cold cloth on her skin should trigger her mammalian diving reflex.
It will slow her heart rate and activate the parasympathetic nervous system.
“This feeling won’t last forever and I’m right here with you.
Can you take five deep breaths with me?”
It takes a second, but she nods from underneath the cloth.
“Perfect,” I tell her. “Let’s go nice and slow.” Five deep, matched breaths later, I slowly peel the cloth from off the girl’s face. “How do you feel?” I ask.
Her inhales seem regulated. Her expressive eyes are looking at me instead of darting around the room. “Much better. Thank you, my lady.”
The muscles in my back untense as I smile in response. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”
“Cecily,” she answers. Her plain white bonnet has slipped back a little, revealing her thick brown hair. She has a lean, athletic build, and her cheekbones are so prominent that I have no doubt she would take the contouring world by storm in the future.
“I truly am sorry, my lady,” she continues. “I just thought you’d be staying in the king’s room tonight, as you do sometimes. But I still shouldn’t have done it.”
Instead of focusing on the fact that I’m the king’s sometimes overnight guest, which is bleak as hell, I opt to stand up and help Cecily to do the same.
“I don’t mind you trying it on at all. Honestly, you can have it if you want. Let’s just sit for a minute.” I lead her over to the chair Bessie occupied this morning, and I sit on the edge of my bed to face her. “How long have you lived in the palace?” I ask.
Cecily seems uncomfortable in the chair but doesn’t argue. “All my life. My mother worked in the kitchens, and I was born there. It’s a great honor to work as a maid, my lady.”
“Please, call me Lil—call me Catherine.” My suggestion is so outrageous that she doesn’t catch my slipup.
“I couldn’t do that!” she answers.
“You can. Please.”
She pauses for several seconds. “Catherine,” she eventually says, “I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. Whatever I can do to repay you, just name it.”
I smile faintly and look down at my lap. For the last five minutes, I got to do what I love. I probably feel more indebted to Cecily than she does to me.
“Maybe you could just visit me once in a while,” I tell her. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately, and talking to someone familiar might help me fill in some of the gaps I still have.”
“Of course, my lady. Catherine,” she amends.
“This morning I heard talk of your fall. I’d be glad to visit with you anytime you wish.
” She shoots up from her chair then, moving to an inner wall across from the crackling fireplace.
“I have a flair for shadow puppetry, if you’re ever in need of entertainment. ”
She casts a wildly realistic bunny rabbit hopping across the wall, and Cecily has one hundred percent just found her target demographic.
“Well, that’s a hard yes,” I immediately reply, much to her to delight. “Can you do people, too?”
“People are what I do best.”
I carefully nod in response, tucking my legs to sit crisscross on the bed. “In that case, what do you know about Henry VIII?”
Cecily’s smile turns sly. “Oh, I know quite a lot about him.” She curves and twists her agile hands, depicting the silhouette of my future husband in the flickering light. “Where would you like me to start?”