The clouds have lightened enough for the sun to shine weakly through, I look up and, in conjunction with the growling in my belly, assess it to be around lunch time…We got here a lot quicker than I expected. The journey back has been long, cold and wet, and by the time we had ridden through the outer vilges, the drizzle had turned to a steady rain and soaked me through to the bone. If it weren’t for the radiating heat from Caspian’s chest, there would be no doubt that I’d be coughing and spluttering by now.

  Arken’s Castle begins to loom ahead. Its stone towers make me sigh a breath of relief, it’s apperance a sign that I can soon get off this damn horse. We ride through the markets and the busy square, people stopping as we pass to salute and wave to Caspian. This is going to cause so many misunderstandings with these people. “Bed warmer”, ugh, what a brat. I can’t believe she called me that.

  …I do suppose that personal maids were quite close with their masters, so riding a horse and sharing a room is quite the norm. I hope it is the same here.

  Caspian rides in silence as we near the castle’s gates. As we close the distance to the outside of the old building, Caspian just flicks his eyes to the guards. No words are exchanged, but the guards nod and allow us through.

  The castle’s courtyard feels like an open hug after days of travel. Horses are stamping in the corner, servants frantically darting between barrels and crates, still preparing for winter and ther—

  Is that Ester?

  Cutting a desperate line across the courtyard is Ester. His usual neatness is gone; his cloak fps wildly behind him, his hair is half-pstered to his face with rain, and a stack of half-tucked scrolls is clutched under his arms. He doesn’t see us at first, his feet pacing towards the main doors. His mouth moves in a muttered manner, as if rehearsing whatever message he has glued in his head.

  Caspian reigns in the horse, his body tightening behind me as he takes in the scene.

  Is he alright?

  Ester reaches the door, only to hear us and spin, his frantic eyes locking onto us. For a second, his mouth opens in relief, only for it to then sharpen in urgency. He pivots, making a beeline towards us, mud spshing up his boots, and his scrolls almost flying from his hands.

  “Caspian!” He calls, voice cracking across the courtyard. “You need to hear this—you need to hear this now!”

  Caspian swings down smoothly, boots hitting the wet ground, and I feel my stomach flip. What is it? What news could he bring?! Have we been exposed? Did someone see our meeting with Pavlore?!

  Caspian hands me down from the saddle without a word; his hands firm at my waist whilst he keeps his face locked onto Ester like a hawk. The moment my feet hit the stones, he’s moving, striding across the courtyard towards Ester.

  “Ester,” Caspian calls sharply. “Inside.” He points to the doorway.

  They move towards the doors and fall into a low, hurried conversation, their voices hard and clipped under the main archway. I catch fragments of the conversation from where I’m standing.

  “Laws… Arrton…procmation…royal decre.” What could it be? Has the king set some new ws in pce? Why are they so clearly— He’s angry. For the first time I’ve met him, I see Caspian’s face full of rage. I’m not sure what ws have been put into pce, but from their expressions, it’s enough to make my skin prickle.

  A stable boy hurries over, bowing awkwardly as he takes the reins. I stand there for a moment, dripping with rainwater, watching as Caspian’s shoulders stiffen and his jaw become hard like stone. These ws may be worse than I thought…

  What could they be? Execution ws? A right to kill someone over anything? Maybe he’s dissolving any sort of council and becoming a dictator? Or is it something trivial like window tax? Whatever it is, it has to be something horrific, to cause Caspian to react like that.

  I pull my cloak tighter around myself and follow toward the doors, but the moment I step over the threshold, I catch Caspian stopping his discussion with Ester to give orders to Ni. Ni stands with her arms crossed, her face full of concern at their conversation. The maids at her sides gasp at whatever Ester said, but Ni shoos them off to carry out Caspian’s orders.

  Her eyes drift and, like a hawk, locks them onto me. She walks briskly towards me and grabs my arm, spinning me in the opposite direction, yanking me to walk. “You are officially under my charge whilst the duke handles matters at court.” I thought Caspian didn’t need to return to Arrton for another couple of days?

  I scan Ni’s face, and it fills me with dread.

  Why does she look so nervous? What did Ester say?

  If he spoke in front of the other maids, then it can’t be that secret? So why is Ni dragging me away? Does she not trust me? I literally went to his dumb ‘secret’ war meeting and even went with him to meet the guy.

  How can she still not trust me, when Caspian seems to?

  Ni’s grip is firm, her fingers biting into my sleeve as she leads me through the side passage. The murmur of the foyer fades behind us as we walk through the long stone corridors and the quiet inner hallways. My shoes squelch faintly on the damp floors, and I’m almost jogging to keep up with her determined strides.

  “You’ll return to your quarters and stay there,” Ni says without looking at me. “The maids will bring you dry clothes and prepare you a room in the servant quarters.” I guess she doesn’t trust me to sleep in my ‘room’ alone, either. Yay. I love sharing a bed with other women who kick. Whoohoo go me!!

  Shoot me in the fucking face.

  Her tone leaves no room for argument.

  I nod slowly as we continue to press down the side corridors, my soaked shoes leaving faint prints across the cold stone.

  The door to Caspian's room looms ahead— well, our room, if you counted the cramped closet at the back.

  I open the door and slip inside. I cross my arms tighter and naturally gravitate to the hearth. The fire crackles softly, its orange light spilling across the wooden floor. Warmth…

  I pluck off the soaked cloak, peeling it from my cold skin and stretch out over the chair by Caspian’s desk. Then, like a cat who found a beam of sun, I sit in front of the heat, taking in the warmth.

  Behind me, Ni stands in the doorway, her silhouette tense and unmoving.

  For a moment, she just…watches me. Her brow furrows and her lips press into a line, as if she wants to say something but can't mouth the words. Does she…want to talk to me about it?

  Then, with a sharp, sudden movement, she runs a hand over her veil, muttering under it. “Dear Gods.”

  She turns abruptly on her heel, her skirts rustling against the stone as she disappears through the door, hand on head.

  The door shuts softly, and I’m left alone with the sounds of fire and the absence of words too heavy to speak.

  I stay there for a while, toes curling against the cold stone, soaking in the heat until the chill under my skin finally starts to let go. For a brief, fragile moment, it’s quiet, in a good way. There are no orders, no cold stares, no Caspian, no Ni and no foreign world breathing down my neck—just the soft crackles of fmes.

  A curt knock breaks the serenity.

  The door creaks open, and a young woman slips in, no older than me, maybe younger. Her brown hair is wrapped in an embroidered ribbon, and her arms are full of linen towels and clothes. As she moves closer to me, the distinct smell of vender and wax emanates from her. She must be a undress…

  “You’re to wash, miss,” she says softly, setting a bundle on the edge of the bed. “The bathing room’s waiting. Best hurry before the water goes cold.”

  I offer a faint nod, too tired to do anything but comply. As the door shuts behind her, I peel myself off the warm floor, grab the clothes, towel, and my st remaining patience, and make my way down the corridor.

  Trudging through the side door into the servant quarters, I make my way to the bathing room. The hot air and sweet smell hit me first as I push open the door. The sauna-like heat crumbles my tired, aching body. The white noise of water spshing, soft ughter, and the hum of voices echoing off the stone only enhances my drowsiness.

  I tear off Caspian’s clothes that are glued to my skin, and discard them in a undress’ basket held out to me. I pce my new bundle of clothes on a nearby stool and mak—

  “Genevieve?”

  I turn, blinking through the mist.

  Amaline? I look at the flushed face of the dark brunette next to her. Leia?

  Relief floods me, and a soft smile perches itself on my lips. Energy seems to surge through me momentarily, and I climb into the rge tub they’re rexing in.

  Amaline’s face lights up. “I told Leia you’d turn up eventually,” she grins, pulling her dripping hair onto her side to brush it. “We were about to bet on it.”

  Leia snickers, sliding closer towards me in the water. “We were beginning to think the duke ran off with you to some secret estate.” She waggles her brows, a teasing spark in her eyes. I huff a ugh and lightly hit her arm.

  I sink into the tub, easing my aching body into the heat as it seeps into my bones. “Trust me,” I sigh, letting the water swallow my shoulders, “I wish it were that gmorous. Try rain, mud, and stale bread.”

  “Oh, poor thing,” Amaline coos, her voice soft but pyful. “Dragged around by the duke like a little steward. You must be exhausted.”

  I dramatically fall the back of my hand onto my head. “My job is so hard. Does anyone want to switch? I think anything you throw at me will be easier than being his handmaiden.” I smirk, the girls ughing with me.

  “I think most women would gdly trade pces with you, just for the chance to be as close to Caspian as you’ve been.” What? People want to be looked at with unreadable expressions and hard stares? Masochists, the lot of ‘em.

  Leia leans in slightly, lowering her voice with a grin. “So…is he really as cold as they say? Or does he melt a little when it’s just the two of you?”

  My brain wanders to when he wrapped his arm around me so I could easily sleep. My face flushes red, and not from the heat of the water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s a duke. I’m a handmaiden, get your head out of the clouds.”

  They both dissolve into giggles, spshing each other lightly as if I have just unknowingly confirmed some conspiracy theory.

  “We’re just saying,” Amaline speaks in a sing-song tone, “he has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.” Not even his ex-wife?... Well, if I remember correctly, she was a horrible woman who abused people. So probably not.

  Leia nods with a knowing smirk. “All stoic with stormy eyes…until you walk by. Then it’s all soft thunder.” She slowly enunciates the st words, causing Amaline to giggle.

  I groan, half-dunking myself under the water to hide.

  Leia taps my arm with a wet finger, grinning like a cat. “We saw, from Sir Leiman’s room. From the west windows.”

  I blink. “Saw…what?” My smile slightly falters. They didn’t see us leave secretly, did they?

  Amaline leans in with a dreamy sigh. “Him lifting you down from the horse. You looked like a fair maiden from one of those old fables. All flushed cheek, delicate hands on his shoulders,” she csps her hands together and holds them to her heart dramatically, “and him, the banished, brooding duke, lowering you like you were painted gss.”

  Leia’s smile grows wider, and she spshes water at Amaline. “She didn’t even struggle! She just let him do it!” She screams in excitement.

  “I was tired!” I gasp at the girls before sinking deeper in the water.

  “Oh, of course,” Amaline teases. “And when you tripped on the stairs the other week, and he caught you by the waist—was that ‘just tired’ too?”

  I cover my face with my hands, groaning into my palms. “Please stop…”

  I’m gd they haven’t seen the bracelet. God knows what they’d think of that.

  They giggle a little more about past events, like the day I arrived wrapped in a Caspian’s cloak, or him helping me with basic tasks. But when the ughter dies down, I rest my head at the edge of the tub, my eyes drifting to the stone wall.

  “...Did you see Ni’s face today?” I murmur. “She looked…worried. Really worried.”

  The girls exchange a brief look, their smiles fading as if Ni hides more than is shown.

  “She carries awful memories from the capital. Whatever brewing news Ester brought from the south. Might be stirring up her unresolved past.” Amaline says quietly, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Unresolved past?” I pry. What’s so tragic that it would cause the sternest woman in existence to break her coolness?

  “Her veil…she wears it to hide the capital’s punishment.” I thought she wore that veil because she’s the head maid? I thought it was a symbol of her rank?

  “What…what did the capital do?” I speak softly, my skin prickling in anticipation.

  The girls look at each other, debating with their eyes whether they should speak further on the matter. But they break, turning to me and grasping my hand, asking me to promise not to share the information.

  “She worked as the king’s handmaiden. She was at his every call…On the eve of Paraman’s second decline of a peace treaty, she spilt his wine.” Amaline stops speaking, the thought of what happened next too dense for her to continue. Leia takes on the task of finishing the story.

  “The king, with his ferra, ripped her hair out. He managed to make the patches of missing hair stay. When the duke found her, he was young in his chanting skills and couldn’t reverse the ferra the king put on Ni’s scalp.” I gasp, holding a hand to my face. That’s horrific, what beast would do such a thing?

  That is no king.

  “Too much time has passed to reverse the damage, the ferra has settled into Ni’s system... It’s permanent. She’ll never regain her hair in those pces.” Is that why she was sympathetic to me when she thought I was a maid at Arrton? Does she think I went through a horror experience like her?

  “I despise the king— Hair is so sacred. A blessing from the Gods, and he tore it from her…so easily.”

  What a fucking monster.