“She poses no threat to the crown. Not to you, my King, nor to the princess.”
“Very well, Gnorr. I thank you for your services and counsel,” Dad says. He barks an order for Jack as his voice grows more distant, echoing off the walls.
“See to it she’s moved into the servant’s quarters, Captain. And that she is kept comfortable. Have Sir Warryn guard her.”
“Sire, what of?—”
“See it done.”
The hall goes silent.
I try to decipher Zadyn’s expression before the door flings open. I jump back and nearly trample the short-haired white cat that crops up behind me. As I steady myself, I look up to see Madame Gnorr and Jack standing in the doorway. Watching me.
“Oh, good, she’s awake,” Jack says dryly, earning a soft smack in the stomach from the healer. He tosses her a look and then fixes those molten eyes on mine.
I should hate him. But even after he stuck a knife in my leg, it takes everything in my power not to run to him, to throw my arms around his neck and drink in that woodsy campfire scent I would know anywhere. But he regards me with not even an ounce of familiarity. It hurts to breathe under the scrutiny of his harsh gaze.
“Come,” he commands me in a cold voice. He doesn’t wait to see if I obey.
I follow him, struggling to keep up with his long strides as I’m led to the servant’s quarters. They smell better than the holding cell, but not by much. Jack pushes open the door to a small living space with a single bed shoved against the wall and a rickety-looking three-drawer dresser across from it.
“Home, sweet home,” he croons as I step inside.
He doesn’t seem to notice the small cat that slips into the room behind us as he waves a hand, and the restraints on my wrists clank to the floor.
“Change out of whatever it is you’re wearing and put these on.” He pulls open a drawer and tosses me a bundle of drab-looking garments. I catch them reflexively, staring at him without restraint until he notices.
“Problem, witch?”
“N—no,” I stammer, “you just look like someone I know.”
“Lucky him.” He hurls the words like an insult as he takes in my disheveled hair, torn clothes, bruising face.
“Dress quickly and meet me outside.”
Without another word, he leaves me alone with Zadyn. I begin to undress and then pause, my shirt halfway over my head.
“Turn around, you.”
He purrs and leaps onto the bed, face buried in his paws while he stares at the door. As I pull my pants off, my phone goes tumbling out of my back pocket. I scramble to pick it up and try to get a signal. Nothing.
Jack knocks on the door to hurry me along. I stuff the phone under my pillow and start to dress.
The clothes he gave me are straight out of the Medieval Times costume department: a long sleeve, shapeless gray shift dress, and a lace-up brown leather bodice. I frown at my Nikes. I’m guessing servants here aren’t allowed to wear name brands. I slip them off in exchange for a pair of slippers lying in the corner. My hair feels like a rat’s nest as I thread it through the elastic around my wrist and tug the ponytail tighter.
“Let’s do this,” I say, more to myself than to Zadyn.
With a steadying breath, I step into the hallway to begin my first day as one of my dad’s employees.
7
I’m shown to the kitchens where bustling bodies rush around shouting friendly orders back and forth. Next, we visit the washrooms where the laundresses are dipping garments into large vats of water and hanging them to dry on lines of string stretched across the room. As we make our way down the hall, Jack barely answers any of my questions with more than one word.
“When can I see the king?” I ask. The question has burned me since I saw his face in the crystalline throne room. Jack doesn’t deign to answer me.
“Where does my—” I cut off abruptly, clearing my throat.Smooth.“Where does the princess reside?”
He peers down at me, his face a mask of disgust as I sidle up to him.
