The Servant's Heart (2 page)

I took a breath, "I will do whatever you ask." It was what I was good at. Doing as I was told. Why the prince's request had rubbed me the wrong way I don't know. Perhaps the free-thinking actions of the other servants were rubbing off on me. I'd certainly heard stories about pranks played at the mutual amusement of servant and noble. Friendly relationships beyond the one I shared with Milady.

Things were...
relaxed
here. In a way they had never been... with him.

Yavin frowned, "I think that is exactly the problem." But rather than explain he walked away. "Take the day, Terence. I don't want to see you working until tomorrow. Someone else can take care of her ladyship."

I knew I couldn't argue with him, so I went back into my room, closed the door and straightened the cot. Maybe I'd finish my book. I kicked at the loose floorboard next to the wall. Or maybe not, I was starting to get out of practice.

***

I splashed water on my face to clear off the sweat and grime. I carefully wrapped my blades and replaced them in their hiding place. The one thing besides my book I couldn't give up were those blades. They had been with me for my whole life -- short as that was -- and were the reason I was in Jorian.

I looked at my hands, touching my fingertips together and whispering softly under my breath, concentrating on just my fingertips. After a moment, they glowed softly, I pulled them apart and small arcs of lightning grew between the spaces. I stretched my hands further from each other, to the length of the space under the board, and carefully laid the strands of lightning over my blades with more whispered words and a slight surge of personal energy.

The lightning flashed a moment after its placement and then vanished to the naked eye -- my personal prevention against anyone discovering this little hiding place.

I put the board back, blew dust into the cracks and settled down onto my cot. Tomorrow would bring something, a beating, a demotion. I wasn't sure. But whatever it was would be better than anyone discovering where I was from, or why I had come here. Nothing they did could be worse than what had already been done.

***

It was early in the morning, the sun was just rising. The haze of half-sleep rested over me. A smiling face cascaded through my mind. Dark brown hair pulled back from her face. Long lashes and bright eyes the same color as our mother's. She laughed, tugging a loose thread from my shirt.

She died, calling my name, begging me not to kill the man who had killed her. Begging me not to seek revenge. There was so much blood, so much blood.

"Anna," I mumbled. "Anna..."

There was a knock on my door. I opened my eyes just as it swung open without my saying a word and the man who entered was someone I'd avoided for the entirety of the time I was in Jorian.

The Royal Weaponsmaster, Iolyn. He was a big man, taller than me and broader -- broader than that friend of the prince -- and more serious by far. A scar ran the length of his right cheek and there were deep pockmarks on his hands, but he still exuded a sort of brute handsomeness. He was the most fearsome man I'd ever seen. I'd never wanted to meet him directly. He had to stoop to enter my room. Well, I did too, but he made it look more impressive. He was less like a bean-pole and more bear.

"You -- Terence, servant to Lady Linnaea." His gravelly voice filled the small room.

I got out of bed, pleased that I'd fallen asleep in my clothes -- I wouldn't want to have this encounter in the nude. "Yes?"

"You are guilty of insubordination against his highness."

I stood as straight as I could in the low ceilinged room. "I suppose you are here to tell me I'm being demoted, sir."                           

He smiled, and it was not friendly. "Under the protest of his highness, Lady Linnaea has refused to demote you. His highness convinced her that you were due a lesson in manners."

I wonder if his lessons were anything as pointed as--
"I see. I shall have to thank milady when I have the chance."

"I suppose you will. Come with me."

It wasn't as though I could say no. I put my boots on and followed him out of the room.

***

I pulled my shirt back on, taking care to cover the mark on my chest. No one had yet seen it, and I preferred to keep it that way.

The "lesson" turned out to be a beating. Iolyn had a firm hand. I knew I would bruise, but he hadn't broken the skin, no blood. I lay my back on the cool stone of the practice courtyard he'd beaten me in and took a deep breath. He watched me from a bench a few yards away. I had plenty of practice in nursing wounds; this was nothing.

He had an odd look on his face, one I was sure I knew from somewhere.

"Copper for your thoughts?" I muttered, sitting up with a wince.             

"You are very well muscled for a houseboy," he said, leaning forward, elbows resting on knees. "Strong wrists, good shoulders. Fighter's muscles." His eyes narrowed. "I'd even say swordsman." His eyes were like silver pieces.

"Never touched a sword before, sir." Which was true, I didn't use a sword. If this man knew what I did use, he would identify me immediately. My blades were unique to my birth land.

"Knives then. I heard a rumor that you came here with a letter of recommendation from the Duke of Terre."

"I did, sir."

"He's not one for keeping houseboys. What did you do for him?"

He was fishing. He was sure I wasn't quite what I seemed, but not sure enough. My last master had arranged for the Duke to provide me with the letter after my disgrace. The good Duke had taken a liking to me and all. It wasn't as though I'd never worked as a household servant before -- I had. It just wasn't my sole occupation, as the Weaponsmaster had begun to hint at.

"I brought him tea, put out his clothes. The usual thing."
He'd never hit me.
I'd worked for him for a short period of time before he sent me to the palace.

Iolyn nodded, but I could tell he didn't believe me. I would have to step carefully around him. "I hope there are no feelings of ill-will between us. I find your treatment of the royal pain-in-the-ass amusing."

I blinked and felt a smile creep across my face.

He smiled back. "You have secrets, but I won't pry." He stood up. "When I woke you up this morning, your accent was pretty heavy."

I suddenly felt numb all over.

He walked over, and squat down next to me, putting a hand under my chin. "Veneseran, am I right?" He smiled. "I know quite a bit about Veneser, and I'd bet three gold crowns that you aren't more than eighteen -- no matter how mature you seem.

"Veneser trains its servants early and I'm guessing you were what, three, four? Just old enough to walk and say yes sir, no sir. Fetch and carry."

I couldn't say anything, speaking would just confirm his suspicions,
not speaking would do the same thing
. Damn it.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything, but I saw the scars on your back when I beat you." He squeezed my shoulder. "You ever decide you want to be something other than a houseboy, you come see me." He stood up, and walked away.
So he hadn't seen the one on my chest?

I felt a chill run all over me and took a shaking breath. All my secrets -- my new life would unravel in moments if he chose to say something. But somehow, I didn't think he would. My interest was piqued. I got up, and headed back to my rooms. I needed to lie down.

***

I hid my book with my blades. I practiced erasing every inch of my accent. I spent my time with milady with the most care toward correctness. I would not be at Iolyn's hands again. The prince watched me with amusement. I still thought he was a fool, that wouldn't change anytime soon.

"Terence, you've been so dour lately, well, more so than usual. Is there anything wrong?" Linnaea asked, sipping her tea. She spent the mornings alone -- to think, she'd told me once. Come afternoon she'd be surrounded by her usual gaggle of ladies sewing and chatting about men. You would think gently reared girls would not know so much about the opposite sex, but on more than one occasion comments had been made that would curl even
my
hair.

"Nothing is wrong, milady."

"You can speak your mind with me, Terence, I won't have you beaten." She frowned, "I am sorry about that. Jasper was most insistent."

"Milady--"

"Are you in love with me, Terence?" Her bright green eyes locked onto mine.

I blinked and tried not to laugh. "No, milady. I am not. Even if I had the inclination, my heart is broken." I closed my eyes and opened them again,
Anna...

"Who did you lose?"

"My sister."
Why did I tell her that?

"Having a chat with the help, Linnaea?" The prince sauntered into her chambers and sat down in the chair opposite her, pouring himself a cup of tea. He lounged, one leg swung over the side of the armrest, which meant I could see the mud on his boots. I held back a sigh. He took a sip and winked at me.

I locked my eyes to the floor and said nothing.

"Leave him be, Jasper. He only said what needed saying, and you had no right to put him in that position," she rebuked.

"Ah, my lily, you protest." The prince took a drink and I could feel his eyes on me. "I just can't help but hate those parties. I don't like to hide behind masks,
pretending to be something I'm not
."

I felt a chill run all over my body. He was talking to me. He knew something... he was provoking me. I took a quick glance up, saw that he was watching me, and I glanced back down at the floor. But I saw him flash a smile.
What did he know?

My throat felt hot. "Is that all, milady?"

"Yes, Terence, you may go."

I bowed, and left the room as quickly as I could.

What did he know?

***

In a temperamental mood, I got my blades out and went out to practice. I practiced in the forest -- in a small clearing near a ruined shrine no one went to anymore. The pair of curved blades were the full length of the curved ebony handles, eight inches of fine steel. Working through the exercises made me feel complete. The blades were a part of me, extensions of my body. Fighting with them was a dance. The music of the blades slicing through the air was comforting.

I finished up and folded my blades back into their handles, tucking them into the back of my waistband, my tunic hid the bulge of the slender blades. I splashed water on my face from the shrine fountain and started back toward the palace. I felt energized.

As I neared the palace stables, milady and her prince rode out. "Your highness, milady." I bowed.

"Terence. I'm taking a ride into the forest with Jasper."

Instinct told me this was unwise. "Are you certain that is wise, milady? There have been reports of bandits in the woods, perhaps a group of guardsmen..."

"Worried about your lady, Terence?" the prince baited.

"You could ride with me if you are worried, Terence," she said softly.

"I am a poor horseman, milady."

"No, you shall ride with us," the prince exclaimed. He whistled sharply and a stableman peeked out. "We need a horse for the boy, a steady one." He glanced at me and smirked. "Something that won't throw him."

The stableman nodded and headed back inside, exiting moments later with a sturdy looking chestnut gelding of elder years. The tack was worn but well cared for. I sighed. The stableman led the horse over to me. "Will you need help mounting?"

"I think I can manage."

He nodded, handed me the reins, and went back inside. I sighed again and mounted, attempting to make myself seem clumsy. I wasn't an expert horseman by any stretch, but I wasn't as bad a seat as many of the petty nobles I'd seen around the palace. Combat riding was part of my training.

The prince smiled at me again, and we headed off the palace grounds and into the forest. I was certain this was going to end badly.

***

The woods seemed peaceful enough, the birds sang and rabbits peered out from under bushes. I didn't lose my sense of unease, and the prince smirked at me. "Still concerned, Terence? I assure you, the guard patrols this part of the road thoroughly; your mistress is safe."

I did not share his opinion, but I wouldn't voice that. I would rather not give him another reason to try me. The further we road into the forest, the worse the feeling got. I'd always had a sixth sense for danger, it was one of the reasons I'd been trained so thoroughly with weapons -- and so young. As Iolyn had guessed. First as a page and then as a bladesmith, I was no soldier as Iolyn was, but a killer, yes.

We came across a darker section of the forest, where the trees branched out over the road like a canopy. The birds stopped singing. The hair on the back of my neck rose. I tensed when the men burst out of the trees. I counted ten, four with bows and three with spears. The rest had swords. Those with bows marked the prince, watching him closely. One with a spear touched its point to milady's neck. My horse faltered and I let myself fall to the ground.

Only to have a man with a sword on me in moments, dragging me to my feet to hold the blade to my throat.

"We just want your valuables; no one needs to get hurt here." One of the men with swords proclaimed loudly.

I sized the group up -- none of them could take me on alone, but I doubted I could do much for the bowmen, not without charring everyone in the vicinity, not to mention confirming to the prince I was not only Veneseran, but hiding a very colorful past. I grimaced; the sword at my throat was dull. Which would hurt more... I looked at milady, the spear at her throat was too close to drawing blood for my liking and the prince was glaring heatedly at the man.

"Do you know who you're dealing with?" the prince spat.

"Well-bred rich folks and a servant boy." The leader smirked. He wore a ridiculous feather in his hat. "Hand over the goods, or the pretty lady gets a new hole to breathe through."