Chapter 7
Fran brought me down several corridors with long floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, overgrown gardens filled the world with green and colorful flowers I’d never seen before as they bloomed. I found myself walking toward the windows without thinking.
“The gardens were once the pride and joy of the master’s castle.” Fran sighed, stopping next to me. “It’s such a pity that they have turned into this.” She shook her head sadly before continuing again.
“What happened?” I asked as I hurried after her. “Why are there only a few servants? Why are the gardens overgrown?”
Fran was quiet for a long moment before she answered. “The master I used to know is not the same one who brought you here. Unfortunately, it is not my place to tell you more.”
My lips pursed as I thought over her words.
Obviously, something had happened to make the castle look abandoned. Did anyone in Candiopolis even know about this castle? Surely the king knew. In all my time in Candiopolis, no one had ever mentioned another castle let alone another kingdom. There had to be a reason for that.
Maybe the way out of this place was to figure out what happened to Blackthorn and why he was so fixated on saving me.
I heard laughter and low talking long before we reached the open kitchen doorway. Delicious scents floated out and my mouth watered eager to eat. Meat and buttery baked bread made my stomach rumble and my footsteps quicken.
Fran drew me into the kitchen. “Hello,” she called out. “We have a guest with us.”
The activity in the kitchen paused. Six sets of eyes swiveled around to land on me.
There were four males of various ages, from mine to an elderly man who stood behind the stove.
Two identical females that looked to be my mother’s age sat at the table, a basket of peas between them that they had obviously been shelling them.
While there were several different shades of skin amongst them, all of them shared the same pallor that Fran did.
“This is Mara.” Fran nudged me forward. “She will be our guest for the time being. Please make her feel welcome.” Her eyes turned to the older man by the stove. “Cookie, can you make her a plate? This one’s nothing more than skin and bones.”
I flushed at her words. How had she known? I’d made sure to make her leave the closet. Then I remembered someone had to changed my clothes before I slept. Fran must have seen my body then and taken note.
The plump older man waddled forward a large grin spread across his round cheeks, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Don’t worry, mistress. We’ll fatten you up in now time.”
The others, seeing as the cook’s approval, cleared a space at the table. Fran nudged me forward with a hand on my back. I ducked my head and sat, my shoulders curled in as I waited to be served.
I didn’t have to wait long. A plate piled high with eggs and at least two different kinds of meats was sat before me. Another plate with fresh bread and a dish of butter was added to the spread, as well as a glass of golden bubbly liquid.
The room remained quiet. All their eyes sat heavy on my shoulders as I picked up my fork. Scooping the yellow spongy eggs up, I took a large bite.
They were the best I’d ever eaten. Back in the factory, we rarely had protein at meals.
Most of the time, it was some kind of porridge.
Occasionally, we’d get beans of some kind, but it seemed like Rumple liked to keep the majority of us on a grain-based diet.
We’d stay alive, but we weren’t thriving.
This. This kind of food reminded me of home.
On the island of Licempop, where my family lived and worked the land, we were never well off, but we always had plenty of food to go around. My mother made the best food in the town, and we’d sometimes have neighbors stopping by just to eat whatever she’d made that day.
A warm lump sat in my stomach, my throat clogging with emotion.
“Mistress, what’s the matter?” Fran inquired, kneeling beside me. “Is it not to your liking?”
I shook my head and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I grabbed the glass and took a drink. “No,” I gasped out. “It’s really good.”
Fran stared at me with a frown. “Then why are you crying?”
I touched my face with wonder. Wet tracks marked down my cheeks. I hadn’t cried in years. Not since I realized that no one was coming to save me from my own decisions.
When I saw that everyone was watching me with concern, I blushed. “I’m sorry. I... just I haven’t eaten this well since I lived at home. It just reminded me of my mother’s cooking, and it made me a bit emotional.”
Cookie threw his head back and laughed. “Well, if that isn’t the best compliment I’d ever gotten. Don’t you worry, mistress. There is plenty more where that came from.”
The others chuckled, and the tension in the room settled. Fran left the room while the two women next to me began their task once more. A young man around my age sat on the other side of the table, a curious look on his face.
“So you’re from the capital?” His bright green eyes twinkled with excitement. “I haven’t been there in years.”
The young man’s question drew the attention of the others loitering around the kitchen.
Taking a large bite of my bread, I used the time chewing to think of an answer.
How long had these people been stuck here serving Blackthorn?
Were they prisoners as well? My eyes dropped to the collar of the man’s shirt wondering if he had the same scar that Fran had.
“Let the mistress eat, Baylen,” Cookie grumped, smacking him on the back of the head. “You have plenty of time to hear about the capital later.”
I swallowed a mouthful of the sweet honey liquid. “It’s alright. I’m happy to tell you.”
Baylen straightened in his seat. “See? She’s happy to tell me.”
Cookie grumbled and shook his head walking back to whatever he had cooking on the stove. The others weren’t even pretending to be doing their work anymore, each of them leaning in to hear what I had to say.
“Well, I’m not sure how long it’s been since you’ve gone to the capital,” I began, hoping to get more information about the servants. “When was the last time you’d been there?”
You’d think I’d asked if they’d murdered a puppy by the way the room went quiet.
“Ten years.” Baylen answered quietly, avoiding my gaze.
“Twenty for me,” another servant said.
“Fifteen.”
Another handful of answers, ranging from ten to thirty years answered. When it was Cookie’s turn, a hush fell over the room. “Fifty-two years.”
My fork paused its trek to my mouth. They had really all been stuck here that long? What was Blackthorn keeping them from?
I sat my fork down and cleared my throat with a nervous laugh. “Well, I can’t say about fifty years ago, I just moved to Candiopolis myself about five years ago. But I can tell you what’s going on there recently.”
The attention turned back to me, eagerness to hear news, any news, filled their hopeful faces.
I laced my fingers in front of me as I thought of where to start.
“Well, there is a new bodice on Main Street. And the Muffin Man got divorced and now his shop is run by his ex-wife. They made it so that anyone could set up a shop no matter where they came from. So far less paperwork on that front.”
I hummed and then remembered the most exciting news I’d heard. “The witch who sold candy on the edge of the forest now has a shop in town and...” I leaned in as if it were a huge secret. “She’s marrying the prince!”
A round of chatter answered my news, each of them reacting differently to different parts. The two women next to me seemed to have the most to say.
“The prince is marrying a witch?” the woman on the bench next to me asked. “Is that even allowed?”
Her twin rolled her eyes. “He’s the prince, he can do what he likes. He could marry a troll, and no one would bat an eye.”
When they stopped discussing the news, Baylen turned to me again. “Come on, you have to have more to tell. Something, anything.”
“Alright.” I giggled and picked my fork back up. “I’ll tell you all I know, but don’t blame me if it’s not exciting enough for you.”
Baylen grabbed my free hand. “Anything is better than nothing. We are so bored.”
“Fine. Fine.” I waved him off and set in to tell them everything I knew about the capital over the last five years.