CHAPTER 11 #5
I growled at that, and my stomach echoed me.
The smell of the food was taking its hold, and my traitorous body was acting as if it didn’t know we were in the mood to hate all things Rihtish.
I hauled myself off the bed and moved to the table.
The meal looked as good as it smelled, piled with roasted veggies and a rich dipping sauce.
I took a bite, and Creator above, they were spiced to perfection.
“What’s your name, then?” I asked after half the plate had disappeared.
“Callagh, my lady.”
“Will you be saying ‘my lady’ after every sentence?”
“Yes, my lady. Until you are Dana, of course.”
“Of course.” Bitterness and I were becoming fast friends. “And what did you do to get stuck with the likes of me?”
I glanced up in time to see Callagh’s neck turn bright red.
“It is an honor, my lady.”
That got a hearty, honest laugh out of me. “An honor? To be stuck with the Inraen bitch? Ignorant, prudish, good for only one thing. This is an honor to serve?” I gestured to my whole self.
The girl had the decency to look abashed.
“Sorry,” I muttered, dragging my hands down my face. “I’ve had an awful day, but that’s not your fault. If you don’t want to be stuck with me, I’ll tell Dane I want someone else.”
“I’m not stuck,” Callagh piped up. “Reálti can refuse any appointment. A match is required on both sides.”
My heart sank. “I see,” I forced out.
Several moments passed in silence. My eyes fell to my plate, appetite gone.
Callagh cleared her throat. “I yelled at my mom.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“She’s the one who assigns reálti to prominent families in Drakh.
I may have told her to quit her bellyaching and just pick someone already.
She thought she’d pick me as punishment.
” Callagh grinned with a wickedness that I would normally have found a delight, if not for the sentiment behind her words.
I was a punishment. Callagh must have realized this too because her face fell, and she whispered, “Sorry, my lady.”
“You cannot force these people to respect you, Small One. One day soon, they will all wish they had.”
I blinked. Then, a laugh burst out of me.
I laughed so hard that Callagh started chuckling too.
I was a punishment! All this time, I had worried about being an inconvenience, being too weak or too ignorant.
Meanwhile, the Riht had been avoiding me because I was a challenge.
Maybe I was losing it, but soon enough, I was cackling, eyes streaming and stitches in my sides. Callagh was full-out laughing now, too.
Despite the awful morning, I decided to count the afternoon as a win. The food was good, and perhaps the company was, too. I made Callagh sit and tell me all about her mother and the other reálti. She never dropped her constant my lady addresses, but we’d work on that another day.
I smiled through my lesson with Dane—more maps, this time of Mayora—and even after I tucked into bed later that night. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so alone after all. At any rate, it’s not like I was going to be in the Riht forever. Even the voice in my head was oddly supportive.
“You, of all humans, owe others nothing.”
I fell asleep to that notion, and for the first time in a while, I slept soundly.
When I woke the next morning, Gerta was still missing.
Her bed was undisturbed, and there were no signs she’d come back during the night.
A prickle of fear crawled up my spine. I dressed, pushed food around the tray Callagh brought, and invented a hundred reasons for Gerta’s absence, each one more outlandish than the last. When I was nearly finished pretending to eat, a messenger arrived and spoke hastily to Callagh in Rihtish.
“We must away to Dane, as soon as you can, my lady.”
I stood at once. As we hurried down the halls, I hoped it was a trick of the light—Callagh had turned quite pale.
Instead of heading to the Receiving Hall, we ducked down a corridor I’d never noticed.
The door was unremarkable, but stepping through it felt like crossing a magic portal to the king’s palace.
Floor-to-ceiling windows lined an entire wall, and every inch of the wall opposite was covered in vibrant, intricate tapestries.
The chairs were so well polished that they gleamed in the scant sun rays.
Every surface held a plush cushion, drapery, or carving with jaw-dropping detail. The room was a visual masterpiece.
Yet, there was no time to appreciate any of it. My eyes immediately fell to the back of Gerta’s head.
Dane spoke, as always, with no preamble. “Your father is a right ass, Cavendaffe girl. Does he truly care so little for you?”
I stiffened. “I have rarely caught his attention, Sire.”
Dane grunted and held out a single sheaf of parchment.
I snatched it, but as soon as I saw the writing, I already knew what it would contain. Gerta’s eyes were rimmed with red. It was addressed to Dane, but I knew the words were meant for me.
Dane Auldren, Son of éalren,
Your house has requested the permanent relocation of one servant from the House of Cavendaffe.
Allow me to remind you that the terms of this return have long since been agreed.
Before any transfer could be considered, payment in kind to buy out her contract must be received.
As this has not taken place, I respectfully demand the return of my rightful property, as promised and without further delay.
The initial four-week settlement period is past complete.
In good faith, I graciously extend you this extra time plus reasonable travel without the need for compensation.
I look forward to your agreeable response.
With respect,
Lord Tychon, Margrave of Cavendaffe
I CHOKED out a laugh. This wasn’t about Gerta—she meant nothing to him.
She was primarily devoted to me while at the manor, and it was no loss to be without her while I was away.
This was Father’s way of telling me that my time had run out.
The journal had to be sent home. Letters, plans, and bargaining would not be accepted.
I was a fool ever to think, to hope otherwise.
“Time’s up, lass,” Dane Auldren said, voice low and brow furrowed. “We’ve no choice but to send her back. Keeping her would violate the agreement. You’re smart enough to know what that would mean for you.”
I nodded.
“We’ll take a few days to wait out the inclement sea weather. I’ll request your margrave’s terms for her release. Best prepare yourselves, the both of you.”
“Thank you, Sire,” I mumbled. A glance at Gerta confirmed my worries. She had a steady stream of tears falling down her cheeks. Kahvrah stood off to the side, her face equally grave. A prickling sensation crawled along the back of my head at the sight of her.
As Callagh and I walked back to our room—soon to be just mine—a hollowness filled me. It was the sickly, twisting grip of loss. Gerta returned minutes after I did, and Callagh retreated with a short bow. I eased my shaking friend to a seat on her bed.
“I’ll be all right,” I offered, knowing it was useless comfort.
“Milady, I cannot leave you. I will not.”
“You must.”
“I won’t.”
I took a steadying breath. There was more to this than a maid reluctant to leave her charge.
But there were no terms my father would agree to.
If I were staying in the Riht forever, he might be tempted by a heavy profit.
But leaving behind a woman who knew the intimate workings of his house?
We stood a better chance of defying the agreement outright.
However, the consequences would be steep—too steep.
With a bit of time, I knew Gerta would see it too.
I gripped my friend’s hands. “Staying would be seen as a betrayal by the Riht, not by you or me alone. There is no other choice. We both know this.”
Gerta pressed her lips together so tightly, they turned white. “I’ll return to you. I swear it.”
“That would make me happier than you know, but for now, focus on your duty.”
“Be clear by being vague,” Gerta recited.
“Yes.”
“Give inconsequential details.”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“Be honest about not meeting Eldreth.”
“And?”
“Do not praise Dane too highly nor too lowly.”
It was a mantra of sorts that we had worked out together over the past few days.
She claimed it was to be sure she didn’t betray me in my new life, but I had other suspicions in the form of a dark blond dowsae instructor, with whom she spent her final day.
Another reason Gerta would have been more at home in the Riht, free of stigma.
My motives came from a place of bitterness.
I was expected to hand my father Drakh’s secrets on a silver platter, and in return, he had offered me only two weeks of leeway for an impossible task and a threat.
We looked at each other, Gerta and I, and something passed between us.
I had known her for so long, yet a new bond had grown while here.
We were likely the only two Inraens in all the continent who knew the full scope of how different life in the Riht was.
Being here together had forged between us something unique and irreplaceable.
Leaving this unspoken, I said, “The Riht should appear as neither a threat nor low-hanging fruit.” They were Dane’s words from one of our private lessons, and they had never rung so true.
Gerta nodded. “I’m ready.”
But I’m not.