The Cold King (21 page)

Calia bit back a sharp retort.

Marchello looked between them again before bowing. “Whenever you are ready, my dear.”

“Might as well get it over with,” she grumbled, trying to keep the pain from her voice.

Cato came skidding out of the kitchens as they passed. “If you are going to town I need more…” he trailed off.

Jos came up and elbowed him in the side. “Put your tongue away,” he snapped. “She’s not even your type.”

Cato shook himself from his stupor and gave Jos him a wicked grin. “No, but I can still appreciate.” Calia looked at him questioningly. “Um, cinnamon. Can you bring me back more cinnamon?”

She nodded mutely and followed the Marchello out to the carriage. The ride was long and bumpy and Calia was glad she did not have to share it with anyone. Her thoughts wandered from her hateful family to her peaceful time with the king to her uncertain future and back to the king again.

When they came to the center of town Marchello pulled to a stop and helped her out of the carriage. With a grimace he looked her up and down again before speaking. “Please, tell me what is going on?”

Calia tucked her face into her shoulder. “The king finds me so delightful he wants me to find a husband.”

“A
husband
?” Marchello questioned. “That’s ridiculous! He never sends servants away. And we all rather thought…” he trailed off.

Calia’s heart leapt. “You all thought what?”

“Well, we thought perhaps he was falling for you. He’s become a different man since you arrived. I cannot imagine he would want to send you away.” The butler shook his head sadly.

Calia felt better knowing she wasn’t the only one who had thought the king had grown fond of her but it did nothing to change the situation. With a heavy heart she said, “He doesn’t want me. No one does, no one ever has. Maybe he’ll see no one here would want me as a wife and let me stay on as his servant?” she wondered hopefully.

Marchello shook his head. “I cannot imagine what he is thinking.”

Calia gave a sad shrug and pulled out the list the king had given for her. “I do not think I’ll be long. He wants buttons and ink and quills in addition to my stupid yarn.”

“Do not forget the cinnamon.”

Calia forced a smile. “Of course not. Where shall I meet you?”

“I’ll be at the tavern,” Marchello said with a wink. “Our little secret?”

Calia frowned. “I am not going in there after you. I’ll wait in the carriage.”

“Fair enough,” he replied.

Calia garnered much more attention than she had bargained for in her saucy outfit. Every shop keeper seemed determined to sell her things she did not need. She wondered if the kings former servant had been as young as her that maybe they wouldn’t have ignored her when she fell in the mud so many months ago.

“Calia!” she heard shouted as left the seamstress shop. “Calia!”

She sighed and looked around. Sure enough, her mother was hurrying up the street. She was wearing the gown the king had gifted to her and her frizzy hair waved about her cheeks.

“There you are girl! I was looking everywhere for you.”

“Why? I do not have anything to give you.”

Mrs. Thorn’s face fell a little before she noticed all the people leaning in to listen to the conversation. “Can’t I just wish to visit with my eldest daughter?”

Calia sighed and led her mother to a less crowded store. She looked over the yarn while her mother fretted and tapped her foot. Finally Calia turned to her. “I meant it, I have nothing for you.”

Her mother huffed. “Isn’t the king grateful to me for bringing up his prized servant?”

“Not anymore,” Calia snapped. “He’s sending me away.”

Mrs. Thorn’s face paled in shock. “What have you done now, you stupid girl?”

Calia clenched her jaw. “Nothing,” she said through gritted teeth. “Nothing expect be the best servant and kindest girl I could be. I earned his respect and affection but not his love. And he doesn’t want mine so he doesn’t want me around. He wants me to find a husband.”

Her mother grimaced. “Surely he knows I cannot afford a dowry for you.”

“I am sure he’ll take care of it, he is desperate to be away from me.”

Mrs. Thorn looked around to make sure no one was listening in. “Do you think he’ll announce it?”

“Announce what?” Calia asked impatiently.

“Your disgrace as his servant!” her mother hissed.

“I did not know falling in love was a disgrace,” she retorted.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Falling in love is for fools. I married your father for money and I made a good catch. If I had married for love, I would probably be poor!”

“You
are
poor,” Calia reminded her harshly.

“Yes, but only because your idiot father had the nerve to die on me!”

Calia could take no more of her awful mother. She reached into the purse the king had given her and fished out a fistful of gold coins. “Take these and leave me be.”

Her mother eyed the money greedily, snatched the coins up and stuffed them into her own purse. “Do not come crawling back to me now that you’ve messed your job up, I have no room for you,” she said over her shoulder haughtily.

Calia stood for a long time in front of the yarn display. The colors swam together as her vision blurred from tears. When she finally composed herself she picked the darkest, gloomiest colors and brought the skeins to the cashier to pay for them.

The sky was darkening and Calia glanced up to see rain clouds moving in. “Of course,” she muttered.

Rain began to patter as she ran to the general store. Everyone else was running home or ducking into their own shops. Her dress was soaked and her hair hanging down around her ears by the time she made it into the cramped store.

It smelled terrible. Not foul, but like every good thing all at once. The scent was overpowering. Determined to have everything anyone in the town could need, and thus beating out his competition, Mr. Horatio had filled the building with towering, over filled shelves spaced too closely together. The feeling was claustrophobic.

Calia pushed past saddles and tacks and then reams of fabric. Disoriented and frustrated, she shoved towards what she hoped was the front of the store. Finally she made it the long counter.

There was no one in sight and she browsed along until she found a large canister of cinnamon. She waited and waited before tapping on the counter. “Hello? A little service, please.”

The swinging doors to the store room crashed open. “Sorry ma’am what can I…” Delmar trailed off as he caught sight of Calia in her dress. “Well, well. Come to your senses finally?”

She bristled and wrapped her arms around herself. “I just need cinnamon,” she said tersely.

“Sure,” he said slowly, eyeing her up and down. Her nerves began to fray and she glanced around, already knowing no one else was in the store. “And how much did you need?”

“Oh. Um, I am not sure,” she said shakily.

He leaned over the counter and leered at her. “You so desperately need cinnamon but you do not know how much?”

“No, I do not,” she snapped. “I am a servant, not the cook.”

She stiffened as someone brushed into her backside. “I hear you are not even that anymore,” Durant purred into her ear.

Calia whirled away from him, desperate for someone to enter the store.

“Really brother? Do tell,” Delmar asked with false enthusiasm.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I heard from someone who heard from someone that Miss Calia here has been dismissed from the king’s services. I guess she is not as pleasing to the eye as she thinks she is.”

“I haven’t been dismissed,” Calia retorted. “He’s expecting me back!”

They both laughed. “No,” Durant purred. “He isn’t. And no one here cares what happens to you.”

“I am just here for cinnamon,” she said evenly, looking for a way around him and out the front door.

Delmar cocked his head and traced a finger over the counter. “Yes, but you do not know how much you want?”

“I think she’s looking for a double helping,” Durant said, his eyes as sinisterly dark as his voice.

Fear weakened her stomach but strengthened her legs and Calia spun to run down the closest aisle.

“Grab her!” one of them shouted.

Calia shoved past the over flowing wares, running as fast as the crowded store would allow her. She could feel their boot heels thumping on the wooden floors and prayed to make it to the front door before they could. At the end of the aisle there was the shimmer of a window and she pumped her legs faster.

Then Durant stepped out in front of her. “Can I help you find what you’re looking for?” he jeered.

Calia skidded to a stop and turned around, running right into Delmar’s chest. His arms were instantly around her like steel bands.

“Let go!” she shrieked.

He pulled her head back with a viscous yank of her hair. “I do not think that’s what you really want.”

She shoved a knee up into his groin and he doubled over but she could not get past him in the crowded aisle.

She spun to see Delmar rushing up the crowded pathway and in desperation began climbing the unsteady shelving. Her dress hung and clung to everything, impeding her escape but she struggled on anyway, terrified for her life.

A cold, hard hand dug into her thigh and dragged her down to the ground. She hit the floor with a painful thud and was yanked back up to her feet almost immediately. Delmar pulled her in roughly and buried his nose in her hair, taking a deep breath before shoving her at his recovered brother.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Before someone comes in.”

“Help!” she shrieked, suddenly reminded of the hope of rescue. “Somebody, please—”

Her cries were cut off with an iron fist smashing into her mouth. “Shut up,” Durant growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her forward.

Calia gagged on the blood flooding her mouth but still fought. She poked at his eyes but he easily batted her hand away before slapping her and she felt her cheek split under his thick ring.

“Hurry up,” Delmar hissed.

“A little help?” his brother asked sarcastically. Delmar lunged forward and kicked Calia’s legs out from beneath her, causing a sharp crack in her ankle.

They both ignored her cries as one took her by the legs and the other took her by the arms and carried her to the back of the store.

She fought and twisted and heaved but they just clamped down harder. In one, nauseating swing they lurched her over the counter she had been standing at only a moment before and the whole world spun before coming to a painful, jarring halt.

Her head swimming, Calia scrambled to her feet as fast as she could but the brothers were over the counter faster and grabbed her again.

Then the little bell over the shop door jingled.

Calia opened her mouth to scream and Durant clamped his hand down over it. He looked frantically at his brother who motioned to the swinging doors leading to the back. They swiftly dragged her through them and all the way to the far wall of the building.

Durant never took his hand from her mouth and pinned her down while his brother roughly bound her hands and feet with scratchy twine.

“Her mouth too,” he hissed. “She’s just gonna keep yelling.”

Delmar gave a savage grin. “She cannot yell if she’s not awake.”

And then he swung his heavy fist into the side of her head and Calia felt no more.

She came back to reality slowly. Her mouth was bitter and everything hurt. She shook her head from side to side, trying to gain her vision before realizing all was dark.

Panic seized her and she fought it, trying to remember what was going on. A voice floated to her. “You boys finish up with sweeping and mopping so we can get home before the rain comes again.”

“Mother,” she heard Delmar say sweetly, “we had promised to help Mrs. Peepers close up shop and see her home. You don’t mind, do you?”

She heard his mother titter. “You boys are so sweet. I’ll just help you finish.”

Calia jerked against her bonds. She could yell out but knew it would do her no good. Mrs. Horatio was blind to her son’s sins. Either that or she had purposely turned a blind eye to them.

The twine binding her hands slowly loosened as she sawed her wrists together. Calia ignored the burn as the rough twine dug in and was soon rewarded with enough give to slide one bloodied hand free. She frantically pulled at the ropes around her ankles before calming enough to pick the knot apart. It finally loosened and she eased her feet out. The sounds of laughter and cleaning up continued to come from the front of the store and Calia stood slowly.

The room was dark and hot and stale. It was barely illuminated by the high windows along the back wall. Shadowy mountains were lumped everywhere and Calia reached out with a shaky hand to poke the nearest one. Cloth.

The entire back room was a dark maze of haphazardly placed stock. Fear froze her for a moment. If she wandered around in the dark she was sure she would knock something over and alert her attackers.

Calia shook her aching head. Her eyes had adjusted slightly and the heaps of wares stood out just a bit more. Unsure of where to go, she slowly just made her way to what seemed to be the clearest pathway and followed it along far wall. A small gleam caught her eye and her heart lurched in her chest when she felt the cold, smooth doorknob. With abated breath she eased it open and was rewarded with cool night air.