The Cold King (14 page)

Calia held her breath. A union with this girl could make her personal life hell and she had no idea what political ramifications it could have for her people. Thankfully the Cold King did.

“As flattering as your offer is, I must decline.” Calia winced at the cold, flat tone of his voice but was glad. The lesser king was not. She watched as the red in his nose bloomed out over his cheeks and down his neck.

“Surely you can see how advantageous this arrangement could be?”

“To you? Yes. To me and my kingdom, a hundred times no. Dealing with your little minx of a daughter would be a chore I would wish on no man. And you have brought nothing but poverty and war to your people. I would never risk infecting my kingdom with such vile things.”

The king puffed and huffed and his daughter first tried fake crying then desperate sobs before quickly turning to seething silence. Throughout the whole thing the eldest daughter stood stoically and kept her eyes on a point above all their heads. Calia felt badly for her. She could not imagine such a terrible existence with family like that.

King William flung his hand out to point at Calia. “Then why the rose?” he thundered.

“Oh, that?” the Cold King asked lightly. “That’s just because I think it’s pretty.”

“The rose or the girl?” the younger daughter sneered. “Have you no need for a real wife when you can roll in the hay with that little strumpet whenever you like? I bet you can command her to do things no real woman would submit to!”

Calia gasped and nearly dropped the tray. Her face quickly grew to an ugly shade of red and tears pricked her eyes. Of all the horrid things that had ever been said about her, that had to be the worst.

The Cold King stilled so perfectly Calia wondered if he was even breathing. Then he slowly stood to his full height and stepped down the carpeted stairs. The weaker king wobbled slightly but did not back away.

“Take your awful daughter and leave. Never return here again.” They all heard the warning in his deadly tone and Calia was grateful for it.

With a tight, grim smile the oldest daughter turned and left and after a moment her pouty, foot stomping sister followed. Their father swallowed hard a few times, as if trying to think of something to say before finally turning and leaving as well.

The king did not turn to face Calia when he spoke. “You know I would never ask those sorts of things of you.”

She nodded before remembering he could not see her. She cleared her throat. “I do.”

“And you know I would never think you would oblige such things.”

Calia wiped her tears away. “I do.”

“Good. Then we both know where you stand.”

He finally turned to look at her. “You mustn’t let others get to you so much. You need to be stronger, grow a thicker skin. Stop crying so much.”

Calia nodded but did not see how that was possible.

The Cold King sighed. “Come, I still have work to do and my treasures aren’t going to dust themselves.”

The weeks that passed after that were quiet, peaceful ones. As Calia grew more comfortable in her role she needed less direction from the king and began to do things more freely. One day she finally entered his personal sleeping chamber and found it to be in shambles. The bed clothes were twisted and lumped together in the middle of the mattress and in dire need of changing. The floor was filthy and dust covered everything, including the drapes. It was dark and depressing and Calia slowly backed out.

“My King,” she called.

He looked up from his desk.

“Why is your sleeping chamber in such disarray? Why have you not asked me to clean it?”

He watched her for a moment before answering. “I thought you would find it improper.”

A little laugh burst out before she could stifle it. “It’s just a bedchamber. Assuming I’ll be cleaning it during the day while it’s unoccupied I cannot see anything improper in that.”

He gave a little nod but still watched her warily.

“Would you like me to clean it now?” she hinted.

The king gave a little sigh of relief. “I would like that very much.”

Calia shook her head in amusement. If the mess had bothered him so much he could have just ordered her to clean it.

As she dragged the dirty bed clothes out and began dusting and wiping and mopping, she thought. He was such an unusual man. He had lived in a dusty, untidy bedchamber for fear she would be uncomfortable but had no qualms about taking her freedom.

She slowed to a stop as she knelt on the wet tiles.

He was trying.

The entire situation was ideal for no one and yet he was trying, for her sake.

Calia thought back and tried to remember a time anyone had been so considerate of her feelings and could think of none before she came to the palace. Saddened but uplifted, she returned to her cleaning and was glad for the smile on her king’s face when he saw his fresh, clean room.

“Thank you, Calia,” he murmured.

It continued on like that, her doing something nice for him and him returning the favor with kindness. It wasn’t friendship and her fear never fully abated but it was something warm and comfortable and Calia began to appreciate her new life and home despite mourning her freedom. The more she thought about it the more she could not think of what she would do with it anyway. Go home to be her mother’s slave and not treated half so well? Go out into the world, a penniless woman traveler?

Both ideas seemed wretched compared to living in luxury and serving a cold king in the simple ways he commanded. Over time it grew to a point the Calia felt there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be and could not ever imagine leaving her new home. She threw herself into her tasks, into her new friendships with other servants and into her time with the king.

The most surprising result of her joyful efforts was that she finally managed to replicate the complicated silk shirts his previous servants had sewn for him. When she finally held the perfect garment in her hands she almost couldn’t believe it. She inspected every seam, every button, searched all the fabric for any loose threads before finally presenting it him.

Calia stood in front of his desk with the shirt folded in her outstretched hands and waited for him to notice. He eventually looked up and took in her goofy grin. “Did you finally manage it?” he asked.

“I think so. Here! Try it on.” She prayed the fit was right and twisted her hands together while he inspected the shirt.

“It looks fine,” he said doubtfully before walking over to the mirrors near his dressing area.

Calia followed and he turned sharply. “A little privacy, if you please.”

Calia’s cheeks flushed. “Of course. I wasn’t trying to… I’ll be just outside.”

She waited in the hallway, full of self-loathing. He thought she was trying to watch him… She slapped her hands to her face and tried to shake away the embarrassment.

“Come,” he finally called. She took a steadying breath and opened the door.

The Cold King looked exactly the same except for a small smile. “It’s perfect,” he said. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He watched her for a moment. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Calia shook her head. “Oh no, you have given me too much already.”

“I meant something I cannot pull out of my vault or pay for with gold.” He rubbed a hand along his perfect jaw. “I think you are due for a visit to your family.”

Calia’s stomach turned in on itself. “Oh no, I do not think that’s necessary.”

The king took her by the shoulders and squeezed. “You are too selfless, Calia. Even servants deserve a break. I will be fine without you for a few days and you can assure your family you are well.”

“I am not sure they care,” she mumbled.

“It will be good for them to see how well you are,” he said softly. “And it will be good for you to just be Calia for a short time, and not a servant. So, pack enough things for two overnights and in the morning Marchello will take you down to the village.”

Calia thought for a way to decline his generous gift but could not find one that did not outright disobey him. He had told her to go so she would have to.

Calia slept poorly that night. No one had cared when she had left, no one would care she had returned to visit. She wondered if her mother would a have a list of chores for her or if her youngest siblings would even remember her. She wondered if she would even be allowed in the house.

In the morning her anxiety was double.

She fixed her hair and dressed in a gown of muted grey to match her mood. Marchello greeted her with a sad smile when she met him in the courtyard at the carriage.

“It’s only for a few days,” he promised. Abelina stood next to him, barely holding back tears.

“He’s right, just a few days and you’ll be back with us.” She sniffed and dabbed at her cheeks before pulling a jar out of her pocket. “Iago asked me to give this to you. It’s a calming tea.”

Calia gave a little smile. “Being with my mother for the next few days I am probably going to need it.”

Abelina folded her into a tight hug and then Marchello helped her into the carriage.

She fought with her stomach the whole ride. How would she be received? Clearly the king was unaware of how reviled his servants were by the townspeople. If he did, he wouldn’t have sent her. She shuddered with the thought of what he might do to right that wrong.

Calia almost had to call for Marchello to stop so she could empty her stomach but she managed to keep its sloshing contents down. With a groan she sunk her head into her hands. She did not want to go back to her old life, even for a day. She had spent a lifetime being a servant girl to her uncaring mother and invisible to the town’s people; she had spent the last several months making friends and being appreciated.

When they pulled up in front her old house Calia could not make herself get out. The carriage shifted as Marchello got down and she flinched when he opened the door. He held a hand out and she looked at it with tear glazed eyes.

“It’s quite all right my dear,” he said gently. “In two mornings hence I will return for you.”

She nodded mutely and finally extended her hand to let him help her down.

The door to the house cracked open and after a second was pulled back. Her mother stood in the doorway with a look of shock on her face. “Calia?” she asked. Two little faces peered out behind her skirt. “My word,” she groaned. “You’ve been dismissed so soon? Can you not do anything right?”

Marchello shot the woman a hard look. “Miss Calia is home for a short visit. I will return for her in two days and the king expects to see his servant refreshed and of good cheer.”

Her mother shrunk away from his steely words and glanced back to Calia. She seemed to really see her daughter this time and her eyes widened. “Of course.”

“Quite,” Marchello snapped before turning to unload the carriage. He set three bags down on the doorstep.

“Wait,” Calia said. “I only packed one.”

He smiled. “The other two are gifts for your family, from the king.”

At his words the twins popped out from behind their mother and descended on the luggage. Calia laughed and snatched them up. “Can you wait until we are inside?” she teased.

She turned back to Marchello. She was pretty sure he would die of improperness if she threw her arms around him so instead she whispered, “Two days?”

“Two days,” he whispered back. “I promise.”

She nodded and turned back to face her family.

Her childhood home was not as clean as she remembered, not as clean as she had kept it. It was also much quieter. She wandered about the small main room and her family silently watched her. It saddened her to see there was no memento of her, no reminder that she had ever been there or been a part of the family. She stuffed her sadness down and turned to the younger children. “Shall we see what’s in the bags?” she asked them.

They squealed with delight and fell on the bags like rabid dogs. Even her mother had a predatory gleam in her eyes as she watched them pull things out.

There were wooden toys and dolls for the children and a book of poetry for her sister. There were fine clothes for everyone and a large canister of tea. Tucked in were packets of spices they could never have afforded, a ream of thick paper, little jars of ink and one heavy bag filled with gold coins. Calia watched in wonder as everything was pulled out. It was as though the king knew exactly what her family was lacking and her heart surged at his kindness.

Her family greedily tucked their new treasures away before finally acknowledging to her. Her mother awkwardly gestured for her to sit before turning to the teapot. Calia watched her hesitate over her new treasure of tea and sighed. “I have a small jar in my bag. Perhaps that would be most agreeable.” She hoped the calming effect was strong and swift.

Her mother gave a forced smile and fretted over her dishes while she waited for the tea to brew. Finally she had nothing to do but sit down opposite of the daughter she had given away.

“So my dear,” she finally said in a falsely bright voice. “I can see my decision for you was the best one.”

Calia choked on her hot tea. “How do you mean?”

Her mother fluttered her hands up and down. “Well, look at you. Life at the castle has certainly agreed with you. You must be so glad I was able to give you this life.”