The Cold King (4 page)

Pain and loneliness overwhelmed her and she turned her back on the food to curl in a ball on the floor.

When the Cold King came the next morning she did not stir. She heard him pick up the old tray but then there was a long moment of silence.

“You didn’t eat what I brought you,” he finally said.

Calia didn’t respond and there was another long moment of silence. “You will stand in my presence and respond when spoken to. You will also eat the food I bring to you.”

Calia turned her head to glare at him. “I wasn’t hungry, thank you.”

His mouth turned down in anger. “You are already too thin. You must eat. I do not care if you are hungry or not. And you will stand in my presence. I do not tolerate insolence.”

Calia waited for whatever punishment he had in mind but he just turned on his heel and left. She stared at the door for a long time, her hatred for the king burning hot inside her. After a while, her traitorous stomach growled and she approached the tray as if it were a rabid animal. But under the fine silver cover was just a plate filled with tiny, spiraled pastas covered with a thick, meaty sauce. She ate every bite.

When the king came that night he brought company. The two of them talked as they came down the stairs, their warm voices bouncing into her cell. She could hear something banging along the hard floor and fear flooded her. Was she to be punished for her earlier defiance? What sort of punishment required assistance and an instrument of some sort?

When the door opened she was up and pressed against the wall furthest away. The Cold King entered carrying… a table?

Fear made her eyes swim until a lithe young man followed with two chairs and arranged them in the center of the cell. The men ignored her as she shivered against the wall. Finally the king took one seat and the young man bowed before leaving without even a glance at Calia.

She watched the king sit at the table as he seemed to wait for something. She didn’t move, didn’t utter a word as she waited with him. Finally another man entered the cell. He was different from the first, dark and tall with kind eyes, and he brought two trays of food. He arranged them on the table and bowed to the king. “Can I get you anything else, Majesty?”

The king waved him away. “No thank you, Cato. This will be fine.”

When the man, Cato, straightened up he looked to Calia and gave her a sympathetic smile. Calia jerked her eyes away from him and were instantly drawn back to the bright mask. She suddenly realized she was beginning to truly hate it.

“Won’t you sit?” the king asked as he unfolded a silk napkin over his lap.

Calia cautiously inched over to the table and perched on the edge of the free seat. She did not touch her napkin, just stared at the king.

He gave a little sigh. “I see we are going to have to work on your manners. This will never do at any dinner I host.”

Calia said nothing, just watched him remove the cover from his tray. The smell of roast meat and vegetables filled the room and Calia’s mouth filled with saliva. But she didn’t move to lift the cover from her own tray.

“I can see you are hungry,” the king said. “Why won’t you eat?”

Calia could only shrug. She knew she was being horribly rude, although she considered locking someone in a dungeon much ruder than poor table manners.

The king shrugged back, mocking her. “No matter. You will eat eventually. I saw you ate your lunch.”

With a little sigh Calia pulled her own napkin onto her lap and took the cover from her tray. The same delicious meal had been prepared for her as well and the shock must have shown on her face.

“Did you expect a heel of bread?” he asked before taking a bite.

“I suppose I did,” she said quietly.

He smiled at her response. “I treat my servants very well.”

Anger swelled in her. “Really? Do they all have to sleep in cold dungeons as well?”

“At first they did. Now they all have fine rooms.”

She fought between shoving the food into her mouth and asking more questions. Curiosity won out, as it usually did with her. “Why?”

He toyed with a carrot before answering. “It eases the transition.”

Calia barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Well, if I fail to be at ease in this cold cell, you’ll have to forgive me.”

He did not rise to her baiting. “Your old life is over, you must accept that. The sooner you do, the easier it will be to begin your new life here. I require utmost loyalty and obedience and I cannot get that from servants who still yearn for their old home or life or family.”

Calia began eating to give herself time to think. She assumed some of the chosen people would have tried to run but the penalty was death, so it could not have been many. And as unhappy as she was, she did not wish for death. “So you lock them up for a few days to make sure they don’t run?” she asked around a full mouth of hot vegetables.

The king sighed and shook his head a little. “That is part of it. It gives the new servants a safe harbor to sort out their new lot in life without the danger of giving into panic and running.”

“How very kind of you,” she said with a purposely full mouth. She knew she was being disgusting but it was worth it to get a dig back at her captor.

“What will you miss most?” the king asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

“My freedom,” she said without hesitation.

He cocked his head to the side. “Not your parents? Your family? What about friends?”

“I did not have any friends. My father is dead. My mother used me as her chore girl and then threw me away as soon as my younger sister was deemed eligible for the job.” She did not mean for such bitterness to ooze from her words but it did.

“I see,” he said quietly. “And you said you had no prospects for marriage?”

“Correct,” she bit out.

The king nodded and leaned back in his chair, his dinner finished. “In time you will come to find all of my servants have been cast out in some way and have come to be very happy here. I know you find this process cruel but it’s best to break all of the bonds from your old life before moving forward.”

“Like I told you, I do not have any.”

“I wasn’t finished,” he said, and Calia could hear a cold anger in his voice. She shivered and snapped her mouth shut. “That’s the first reason for this. The second is that must learn to depend on me for everything. Everything you will have, I will give to you. If you do not have something, it’s because I chose to withhold it. I demand perfect loyalty and obedience and I get it from the servants that come to rely on me entirely.”

Calia’s stomach twisted with fear. The man was clearly sick. He wanted to break her down and build her up into something that would worship him. ‘No,’ she vowed to herself. She would serve him as required but he would never have anything more from her than that.

The king was still speaking and she struggled to process his words. “You will be generously rewarded for your service and in time, I believe you will be happy. As my personal servant, I will rely on you most heavily so it’s important we build the correct relationship from the start.”

Calia nodded numbly. She was going to spend the rest of her life tied to this mentally ill man. Leaving him would mean her death and staying could mean the destruction of her heart and mind. Tears pricked her eyes and she was relieved to see him stand from the table and go to the door. “Soon,” he promised before he shut the door and slid the bar home.

“Yes,” she promised herself. “Soon.”

When the king returned in the morning he was surprised to find Calia in such an improved state. She had washed, straightened her clothing and brushed all the dirt from it. Her hair was free from hay and snarls and woven back into a braid. Sitting at the table she looked a little less like a ghost of a girl.

“My talk seems to have done wonders for you,” the king told her.

“Yes,” she forced herself to say. “I am ready to begin my new life.”

A smile twitched over his lips. “I see. Such newfound resilience, it’s very admirable.”

Calia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She thought he would be happy to see her ready to take on her duties.

Without another word he took the trays from their dinner and left a new one. Her heart sunk. She had thought he would let her out.

He must have seen it on her face. “I will know when you are ready to come out, have a little trust in me.” And with that, he left.

Calia sat in stunned anger for a moment before forcing down every bite of food he had left. For good measure she drained the water glass. Afterward she tidied up what she could and resumed her waiting.

At nightfall the slot in the door opened and a tray was shoved through. Surprised, Calia grabbed it before it could crash to the floor.

“Hello?” she called.

Her only answer was the echo of footsteps on the stairs. She worried over this new development as she ate. Did he suspect she was holding back? How could he know? And why did he care? So long as she served him and was loyal it could not make a difference how she felt about it.

But it must have made a difference to him because he did not come to her in the morning. Instead, another tray was shoved through the slot in the door and again she barely caught it. The trays and dishes were beginning to pile up and Calia itched to clean them, to clean herself, to put on fresh clothes.

In the evening a third tray was shoved through door and it brought Calia tears of frustration. Why hadn’t the king come back? Did he find a new servant, someone better than her? Was he going to leave her in the cell forever?

When the slot opened to admit another tray the next morning Calia was ready. “Please let me out!” she cried, trying to get a glimpse of the king. The tray almost crashed into her face and she hastily grabbed it and set it on the floor. The slot was closed again when she looked back up. “Please, I am ready!” she screamed at the door.

The footsteps hesitated but did not stop.

Panic filled her and she banged on the door and tore at the handle. It didn’t move and neither did the little metal door covering the slot. Crazed with fear, she attacked the giant metal pins holding the door to the frame but they would not budge. She continued to dig at them until her fingers were slick with blood and the door was stained with dark rusty patches everywhere she thought it might have a weakness. Finally she gave up and collapsed in front of the door, exhausted and spent.

Weak sunlight woke her later. After one blissful moment of not knowing what was going on, her memories flooded back in and she struggled to her feet. Pain lit up her fingers and hands when she tried to shove off the floor and she fell back down with a sharp cry.

Her nails were torn and ragged and caked in blood and she slowly remembered tearing at the door in a frenzied panic. Careful not to use her hands, Calia got up and made her way to the bucket of water. Raw pain rocked her as she submerged her wounds. She left her fingers in the water as long as she could tolerate before fisting them in the blanket. Though she felt destroyed on the outside, inside her mind was calm and logical. She would wait until the king brought her a meal again and then she would shove her hands through the slot to show him she needed to be let out. He had to believe her, he had to help her.

But her breakfast did not come the next morning and the dinner tray did not come in the evening. She sat in a chair at the door for hours, waiting for
him
to come.

When the sun set and she was left in perfect darkness she began to wonder if he had forgotten her. Or maybe he just did not want her for his servant and was going to leave her until she died.

Panic welled again and she forced it back. Her hands were already swollen and throbbing with pain, she did not need to injure them further. Eventually she drifted off, her chin slowly dropping to her chin.

She stayed that way, in the dark, for a long time.

Chapter Three

T
he slamming of the bar
startled Calia from sleep as well as from her chair and she crashed to the floor as the door was flung open. She was blinded by the glaring light but could make out a silhouette that could only belong to him.

A tiny sigh of relief escaped her. “You came back.”

The king reached a hand out to help her from the floor and Calia gratefully accepted it. She hissed as his hand tightened over her sore, throbbing fingers but didn’t let go.

Her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to let her see his face, or as much of it as the mask would allow, but she heard his low growl when as he looked over her raw wounds.

With his help, she lurched to her feet and the king steadied her when she swayed. Pain, heartache and a lack of food compounded the confusion she felt in her heart and mind. He was the enemy. This was his fault. But without him, she had no hope of ever leaving the dungeon.

Tears slid down her cheeks as he led her out the door and up the stairs. He still held her one hand gently and patted it. “I fear I may have pushed you too hard, or too fast.”

She did not know what to say, wasn’t even sure her voice would obey her after so many hours and days spent silent. So she walked lamely next to him, praying he wasn’t leading her to some new horror.

At the top of the steps an older woman dressed in stark black met them. She was almost as severe as the Cold King and her shockingly light hair was swept up perfectly. Calia tensed, not knowing the woman or how she would be treated by her. But then she saw the look of pity and compassion on her handsome face.

“Abelina, please see to the girls care. And when you are finished, have Iago come up to tend to her hands.” The Cold King released Calia and she stumbled against the woman.

“Your Majesty,” the woman grated and Calia shrank away in fear. But Abelina threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Look at the state of her! You should not—”

“Abelina,” he cut in sharply.

She huffed and glared up at his glinting mask but said, “Of course, Your Majesty, right away.”

Calia let herself be pulled away with the woman, grateful for her kind and strong presence.

“Now my dear,” Abelina was saying. “Tell me your name.”

“Calia.” Her voice creaked but worked.

“I am Abelina, my dear, the housekeeper. But of course I take care of many things.” She squeezed her arm around Calia’s shoulders again and led her up a grand stair case.

Calia stared around her as she walked, dazed by the opulence and sharp contrast to the surroundings of her last several days.