The Cold King (15 page)

“I do not know what you mean, Mother,” Calia said coldly.

The older woman started at her daughters tone and fought to remain in the best light possible. “Well, you look lovely. Your hair has darkened and your skin paled. You fill your dress out quite nicely; he must be feeding you well.” She cocked her head to the side. “And you have such lovely clothes. And you get to ride around in a carriage! You’ll be the envy of everyone in town.”

Anger surged in her chest but Calia knew it was useless. She could always count on her mother to take credit for anything good thing, whether she deserved it or not.

“What’s he like?” Moli suddenly asked.

Calia eyed her younger sister and raised an eyebrow. “He’s a king and my master. What more could there be than that?”

Moli looked at her wistfully. “But is he handsome? Is he strong and kind and gentle?”

Calia frowned. “What nonsense are you talking about? Have you been reading that rubbish Mrs. Lent’s loans out from her husband’s book shop when he isn’t looking?”

“Calia!” her mother gasped.

Calia rolled her eyes. “Please mother, I only know about them because I found one hidden under your pillow while making your bed.”

Her mother had the good sense to flush. “Enough unladylike talk. Moli, get your siblings ready, we are going to dine out tonight.”

The children roared with delight and began flying about the small room. Calia watched her sister chase them down with wet rags and wrestle them into their new clothes while her mother sat and drank tea.

Part of her wanted to help her sister and part of her just wanted to stew in misery until she was able to go home. Eventually she gave in and helped. Her mother preened in front of the one small mirror they owned and finally turned to take in her children. She smiled with satisfaction. “This is how we should always present ourselves.”

Calia rolled her eyes. Her mother had always thought she deserved the best, that for some reason life owed it to her.

She sullenly followed her family to the town’s one inn. The dining hall was brightly lit and soft, cheerful music poured out. Calia took a deep breath before forcing herself to enter. There were couples and families seated everywhere and Calia picked out several familiar faces. None seemed to recognize her until they took in her family.

“Do not just stand there like a bumpkin,” her mother hissed in her ear. “Smile.”

Calia smiled for all the people who had so callously sent her away and prayed dinner would go quickly.

It did not. People stopped at their table all evening, coming over in curiosity to get a glimpse of Calia. Her mother thought all the attention was for her and preened and basked in it.

Calia just kept her fake smile fixed on her face and pushed her food around on the plate.

Over and over the town’s people commented on her hair, on her skin, on her figure, on her fine dress. Not one person asked how she was doing or if she was happy or if the king was a fair master. It was worse than being invisible. They all saw her but they still did not care.

At home her mother collapsed into her arm chair with a happy sigh. “Did you see the look on that wretched Mrs. Hadrian’s face when she realized it was you?” she tittered.

Calia had.

“I thought she would just fall over with jealousy. Her daughter married the baker’s son a few months after you left and the way she carried on you would have thought she had married a prince! But now her perfect daughter has to help at the bakery and you should see her. Her hair is dreadfully plain and she always has flour on her clothes. Little miss baker’s wife isn’t so perfect anymore. And when she saw you, I thought her eyes would fall out of her head.” Her mother leaned back, relishing in the other woman’s jealousy.

Calia fought back her anger with coldness. “I did not go off and marry a king, mother. I am a slave to one. And no matter how well he treats me, I will always be a slave while she will get to be a wife and a mother and grandmother. I hardly see how I came out the victor with a haircut and a new dress.”

Her mother pouted and sat up straight. “I was paying you a compliment. Really, you’ve always been such a sour girl. I would have thought you would be happier with everything that’s been given to you.”

Calia sighed and rolled her tense shoulders. “I’d like to retire now. Where shall I sleep?”

Her mother’s brow furrowed and she glanced around the room. Before she could suggest the armchair or the floor, Calia cut in. “Moli shall sleep with you tonight and I will take her bed.”

Her mother and sister opened their mouths to argue but Calia jumped up, snatched her bag and left for the tiny room that had been half hers before they could say a word.

She sat on the hard little bed for a long time, not thinking, not feeling. She had known she would be unhappy here again but she did not know it would be in such a painful, uncomfortable way. She was just a curiosity they all felt free to inspect.

Calia got ready for bed and lay down but sleep wouldn’t come.

The sun wasn’t up before she finally gave in and got up. The rest of her family was still sleeping and she quietly fixed herself a cup of tea. She stood at the counter drinking it and taking in her old home. Her hands itched to scrub and wipe and straighten but she refused to give into it. She had done enough cleaning for them.

Eventually her sister rose and began to the get breakfast ready. She shot Calia a sullen look. “This used to be your job, you know.”

Calia glared at her. “And now I have a new one with no hopes of ever leaving it. At least you will one day get to leave to start your own family.”

The wisdom of her words was lost on her sister.

After a terrible breakfast, Calia’s mother insisted she put on her best gown. “We have some shopping to do.”

The younger siblings clamored to go along and she shushed them quickly. “You will all stay here. I wish to spend time with my oldest daughter. I get to see you brat’s every day.” Calia winced at her harshness but was touched that her mother wanted to spend time with her.

Tender happiness soon turned back to anger and annoyance. Her mother’s intent was not to spend quality time with her but to drag her along and show her off while she spent the kings gold. Calia was taken into the hat shop and the meat market and the dress maker’s store. Whoever hadn’t gotten an eyeful of her the night before was getting their chance. Her mother showed her off maliciously and with the attitude that she was responsible for all the good changes her daughter had undergone.

Calia seethed quietly well into the afternoon until she could take it no longer. Her mother tried to pull her into the general store and Calia balked. “I do not want to see Mr. Horatio. He’s a terrible man and I never liked him. I could not care less if he sees me in a new dress or not.”

Her mother pulled her lips back in a snarl. “
I
care. Life is very difficult for me and it would help me and your siblings a great deal if you would show this town what good standing you with have the king.”

Calia’s jaw dropped open. “Good standing? He allowed his slave to visit her family. That is all.”

Her mother grabbed her arm with hooked claws and jerked her closer. “Stop acting like the most pitiful child in the world. The king took you in when no one else wanted you. And the last time I checked, slaves do not get paid. He has transformed you from a pitiful little girl with no future to a beautiful servant who has been afforded every luxury.”

Calia’s cheeks burned as realized the futility of arguing with her mother. “I will wait outside for you,” she said evenly and pulled her arm from her mother’s grasp.

Mrs. Thorn huffed and glared and pursed her lips but Calia just turned her back and wandered around to the side of the store to tame her emotions and gather her thoughts.

A long, low whistle pulled her back to the awful present. Mr. Horatio’s sons stood at the side entrance, staring down at her.

Delmar and Durand were handsome, wealthy and had parents who thought they were angels. To all the elders in the town they were respectful, helpful young men. To anyone their age or younger, they were bullies or worse. When she had still lived with her mother, Calia had wondered how their bad behavior had escaped the notice of the king until she finally realized money and well respected parents could erase a lot of misdeeds.

Suddenly fearful, Calia turned away and began walking back towards the front of the building.

“Hey, slave girl!” one of them called and she walked faster.

She could hear their feet shuffling along and risked a glance over her shoulder only to find them right behind her. She surged forward and Delmar caught her shoulder, flinging her around.

The brothers stood over her with evil grins and evil twinkles in their eyes. “We were talking to you.”

Calia shuddered and wrapped her arms across her chest as they looked her up and down. “What do you want?” she asked, praying her mother would come for her soon.

“We just wanted to see for ourselves,” Durand said, not dropping his creepy grin.

Calia shifted on her feet, fearing that wasn’t all they wanted. “See what?”

Delmar stepped closer and Calia inched back. “To see if the ugly stick girl really got transformed into a beauty queen.”

“Not a queen,” his brother interrupted. “Still a slave. But you
are
pretty now. How much magic did that take?” He laughed loudly and his brother joined him.

Calia gave a tight smile and stepped back again but Delmar reached out and crushed her arm in his meaty fist. “We were wondering why the king would waste any magic on making you pretty but I think we have it figured out. I mean, you are his
personal
slave right?”

Durand winked at her. “You are probably good at lots of things now.” He licked his lips and Calia nearly gagged. “Your mother is going to be in that store awhile, maybe you could show us a few.”

“I do not know what you are referring too, but I am not showing you anything,” Calia spat and pulled her arm from Delmar’s grasp.

Both their faces tightened in anger and Durand lunged for her. Calia shrieked and jumped back, just out of their reach.

“Calia!” her mother shrieked from the entrance to the ally. “What are you doing down there? And why are you making all that noise?”

Relief flooded her and she ran to her mother. Delmar and Durand followed, their faces smoothed into kind smiles. “She just wanted to say hello,” Delmar said with an easy lie.

Her mother eyed the brothers suspiciously before pulling Calia away. When they were out of ear shot her mother hissed, “What were you doing un-chaperoned with two boys in an alley? Do you have any idea how that looks? What would the king think?”

“They followed me down there,” Calia protested.

“Do not be ridiculous! What could those boys want with you?”

Calia bit her lip, refusing to answer her mother. She had heard terrible rumors about the brothers but no one seemed to think they could be anything but angelic.

Hurt and angry, Calia followed her mother back to the small house. Her siblings crowded around them as soon as they entered, demanding to know what they brought back for them.

“I have a headache,” Calia mumbled and excused herself to bed.

Her mother did not come to check on her, even when she did not come out for dinner. No one asked if she was all right and no one came to bid her a good night. Calia curled up in a tight ball on her bed, faced the wall and prayed for morning to come.

She hadn’t realized it would be so awful to visit. She had secretly hoped her family would be happy to see her, happy that she was doing well. At worst they might have ignored her or demanded that she clean. But instead they just wanted the gifts the king had sent and her mother wanted to rub her ‘status’ in everyone else’s face.

And the town’s people were just as bad. Not one of them had been kind or friendly, they were just as awful as they had always been. She missed the castle and the other servants. With surprise she realized she missed the king.

Shame flooded her. She shouldn’t miss him; after all, he had taken away her freedom and even locked her in a dungeon. But he had also given her a home and friends. She never had to worry about clothes or food; she did not have to work half as hard as she once had to at home. But it was more than that. She actually missed him. Despite his harshness and the terrifying masks he hid behind, he was a good man and he took care of her.

The clock slowly ticked off the minutes as she waited to be reunited with him. She drifted off to sleep thinking about his dark hair and the sharp, woodsy scent of his soap.

Chapter Eleven

M
orning finally came and Calia
jumped out of bed before the sun rose. She washed and fixed her hair and put on a new gown. She packed all her things and then sat at the window, waiting for Marchello to come take her home.

Her sister got up next and started the fire to make hot water for the tea. Her mother eventually came out of her room to lounge in her armchair while Moli got the little kids up and began making breakfast.

Calia said nothing, did not even turn away from the window.

Finally her mother spoke. “The next time you return, perhaps the king can send you with some cloth and shoes. Oh, and chocolate. And more gold than he sent this time. I am sure he’ll want to properly compensate the woman who raised his servant.”

Calia kept her breathing shallow and even. She did not blink or acknowledge her mother. When she heard the carriage come rattling down the street she jumped up, grabbed her bag and ran out the door to wait.

“Moli, close the door before all the warm air gets out,” she heard her mother snap. The door slammed shut and Calia was left in the street without even a goodbye.

She was standing still as stone with tears pouring down her face when Marchello pulled up. He jumped down in alarm and pulled Calia to him. “What’s the matter my dear? Are you all right?”

“Take me home, please,” she mumbled.

He looked from her to the house, his face hardening in anger. “Of course.”

Calia numbly watched the trees pass by as she rode back to the castle. Marchello said nothing when he helped her down from the carriage, just gave her a sorrowful look before taking her bag in.

The main hall was empty and Calia was grateful not to encounter anyone in the palace. But as she opened the door to her room, the king opened to door to his and stepped out into the hall.

“You are back,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

She took a deep breath, wrapped her arms tightly around herself and turned to face him. If he was shocked by her red rimmed eyes she could not tell because of his damned mask. “Never again,” she said quietly.

He cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

She hiccupped on a sob. “Do not do that to me again.”

The king stepped towards her with an outstretched hand. “Calia—”

She closed the space between them and leaned against him, hiding her face against his chest. The king stiffened in shock and Calia refrained from wrapping her arms around him but she didn’t move away. “I am sure you thought you were doing something nice for me but it wasn’t,” she mumbled against his perfect shirt. “Do not send me away again. I won’t go.”