Chapter 32 Lucas
Lucas
The king had taken up residence in the largest, oldest, and grandest building in Laons. I tried not to gape, but it exceeded what I had seen, and indeed been inside of, for the duration of my life.
Matteo, Aubert, and I trailed Milord and Comrade as we all followed the page to the king’s residence. The city was already larger than the village I’d grown up in and spent my entire life in, but fortunately it did not take long on foot to reach the king’s residence, perhaps fifteen minutes.
Even though, next to me, he looked least like the majority of the king’s citizens, Matteo quickly seized control of the situation. He spoke at length to the page—a charming lad of perhaps fifteen years—and persuaded him to let us follow him to his next stop.
Once Milord had gone in the direction of the king’s audience hall, the page, Raymond, brought us to where servants gathered and pointed out the halls used for transit.
In fact, Matteo made so many friends that we were led to the kitchens and fed hard cheese on toasted bread, and before we parted ways to explore, we were promised to be told when Milord’s audience with the king had ended.
Aubert and I left Matteo cheerfully charming the whole kitchen staff.
“I’ll check the gardens for any information that might be useful to us,” he said, staring wistfully in the direction of the estate’s green spaces.
I nodded in reply, looking around for some clue as to where I might be of service.
Before we could part ways, however, Aubert rested a hand on my shoulder. He looked around to see that we were unaccompanied, fixed me with his steady green gaze, and took a breath before opening his mouth to speak.
I already guessed what he would say, but I let him say it.
“Lucas, I want you to know, I have been intimate with Milord. It seemed to steady her nerves after the…the incident. We were only nude together, with some caressing, not…all the way.”
“Ah,” I said, aiming for a sympathetic tone. I was…not jealous? Something else was stirring deep in the pit of my stomach, turning over with a slosh as though a lethargic and large beast were awakening.
“Benoit and I are both with Milord in some capacity,” I said, trying to choose my words wisely.
He dropped his hand from my shoulder, clearly fearing that I would become confrontational.
I stifled a sigh; I was among the least aggressive of our number, but the law of men’s ownership of women’s bodies was slow to fade from our land, and thus our minds.
I thus looped an arm around his back, drawing him closer.
“I am not territorial, nor is Benoit. We are close with Milord, indeed, but we do not lay sole claim to her heart or her body. Her first commitment is to her king, and while I would follow her to the ends of the earth should she ask, I know she may choose him over us at some point.”
The slow pulse in my gut had resolved into something recognizable: fear of loss tempered with lust for new. A strange form of possessiveness that was not possessive at all but rather, yearned to grow with and alongside and inside her and perhaps into something resembling love.
“I personally would…welcome you,” I said carefully. “In every way.”
He did not break contact, but he did lean back a little, and I saw a genuine flicker of curiosity in his grass-green eyes.
“I thank you for your honesty, Lucas. I am dedicated to Milord, but still also new enough to all of this to need a little time to decide what I would make of my time with you all.”
I smiled tentatively, and he returned it. That, at least, was one thing that had gone right today. We clasped hands and then parted ways.
While Aubert eagerly made his way to the garden, I found my way along the servants’ passages to the library. It seemed the king allowed all to come and go, which I secretly found endearing, since my people had encouraged literacy for longer than the citizens of this land had, apparently.
It was a large room with two levels, mostly lit with indirect sunlight to keep the books in good condition. Warm wood paneling covered the few walls that were still visible amidst the shelves. Lamps were available as well, and a handful of the increasingly obtainable faerie lights.
I stayed away from the sconces with inactive faerie lights, however; while they were becoming more common in human hands, I did not know if they would interact with my gift at all, and I did not wish to be exposed.
I wandered around, thinking myself alone at first, and perused the various languages. I was pleased to see literature from my community, mostly scientific tracts and poetry.
Turning a corner, thinking I would see what was in the local tongue, I found myself almost face to face with a woman.
She was plucking a book from a shelf just above her head, and with her pale arm emerging from her tangle of long, dark brown hair, she seemed for a moment like a sea creature ascending to the human realm to carry out some dark and nefarious agenda.
Wishing I had stealth to accompany speed, I froze.
She sensed my presence, though, and shoved the book back in its place, turning to glare at me.
Her shadowy green eyes held all the promises of a haunted forest, while her deep-hued wavy hair glinted with gemstones. She was richly dressed, so much so that the gap in our statuses made me skittish. I had to remind myself that for all my gift of swift running, I was not prey.
“What have we here?” she asked. Her voice was cultured, resonant, yet sharp.
“A mere servant, madam, who apologizes for disturbing you,” I forced out rapidly, then bowed, then retreated before she could respond. Luckily my legs were bound, and hence I could not easily resort to faerie speed to get away.
For there was something about her that made me wish to avoid detection and scrutiny, something malevolent in her bearing. Power exuded from her too, and the combination made me jumpier than usual.
Quickly, I backtracked. The currents of gossip amongst the palace staff shifted with the time of day, as though on its own schedule on par with the tides. The afternoon meal had been prepared, served, and cleaned up; the evening meal was to take place later, after a grand reception.
I found a courier who dealt in such matters, and ascertained that Milord had met with the king, followed by his secretary, and then had likely departed.
I did not see a need to linger; it seemed that those of us beneath noble notice came and went freely throughout the keep and the city, as the entrance to the city itself was guarded.
Aubert and Matteo had not strayed far, and thus I easily located them and suggested we return to our lodgings together.
Aubert had mostly conversed with the king’s gardeners and offered them some saplings from a pouch he apparently always kept on him.
Matteo had been cossetted by every servant with whom he spoke, with them passing him along to ones higher and higher in rank until he found himself entertained by those who served the royal family.
Hearing about his exploits took nearly half of the walk back to our lodgings.
“And then I found myself in conversation with the queen’s main attendant, a maiden named Floryda, who seemed eager for companionship.
” Matteo paused. “Well, she seemed eager to talk to someone, even if that someone was not talking much in return, and she seemed so happy to have found a friend that I could not help but continue to converse with her even though I suspected it was nearly time to return to the kitchens and meet with the rest of you.”
I exchanged a glance with Aubert; perhaps Matteo had bottled up all his words, to the point where now they had to flow freely or else he would suffer some tremendous consequence.
“Floryda had lost track of her mistress somewhere between the observatory and the library, and she was quite happy to see a friendly soul. I gather that her mistress was not always the wielder of a kind voice or hand. Oh, but she seemed so eager to confide, I hope she did not overshare with me in such a way as to get in trouble later, for she and her mistress have been working with a spy in Matapa’s court whose contact leaves messages in the books in the library, and that spy is growing ever closer to determining the identity of the Butcher, the man who reputedly killed their parents. ”
Aubert paled at Matteo’s words.
“Your pardon, friends,” he said, and then took off at a run.
Matteo and I could only stare after him, wondering what had lit a fire under him. Normally I was the one running. But then my mind unfroze from the frightening encounter earlier, and I began to tease out the meanings Matteo had unwittingly implied, and I filled with icy fear.
I could overtake Aubert…but to what end?
There might be more than one assassin nicknamed the Butcher, and our man had sworn an oath of loyalty.
Unless it had all been a ruse? But Aubert was close to him, could talk to him, while I had little to offer beyond a healthy dose of fear and an ability to run fast. If I could find Benoit, though, I might be able to warn him.
“You can find your way back, yes?” I asked Matteo. Confused, he nodded. And then I took off running.