Dropping my hands, Orla steps back, head bowed. “I didn’t mean…” Her voice trembles with the fear of having overstepped.
“It’s all right.” I gentle my tone. Orla did nothing wrong. She spoke from her heart. I am not one to punish courage, whatever form that might take.
Regardless, she is absolutely right. If I continue to cower in my rooms wallowing in pity and self-loathing, the Frost King wins.
Swinging my legs over the bed, I announce, “I will dine with the king.”
Her face collapses in relief, and the flush gradually recedes from her skin, returning it to its semi-transparent hue. “Wonderful. I’ll fill your bath—”
“I’m not taking a bath.”
She halts on her way to the door. “But…” Her jaw unhinges. “You haven’t bathed in days.”
Yes, and if I smell atrocious, all the more reason to dine with husband dearest.
For the last three days, I’ve worn a loose tunic the color of a corpse and woolen trousers ripped at the knees. My hair is the exact texture of a bird’s nest. My breath absolutely reeks.
This man will regret calling me to heel like a damn dog.
“I’m going to wash my face,” I all but sing, skipping behind the divider. Orla tosses the dress over, but I ignore the offensive sight and lather the soothing lavender soap onto my hands above the small washing basin.
When I emerge from behind the divider wearing the same filthy attire, Orla moans in horror. “My lady, please don’t.” She shoves the dress into my arms, her expression stricken. “The dress. Wear the dress. It will look magnificent on you.”
“Please don’t fret, Orla.” I rest my hands on her shoulders, give a comforting squeeze. “No harm will come to you, I promise. This is something I must do for myself.”
“Could you not do whatever it is while wearing the dress?”
Oh, I do like this pluckier version of my maid. “No, I can’t.” Pulling her close for an apologetic embrace, I go to meet my fate.
I take the stairs two at a time, strangely eager for the evening. To add insult to injury, I’ve draped my threadbare coat over my shoulders.
As I enter the dining room, I brace myself for the ire that is sure to descend at my appearance, but the Frost King’s chair is vacant. It’s socold my breath spills white before me. Two servants stand against the walls, ready to refill a glass at a moment’s notice, yet no one thinks to light a fire?
By some miracle, I find flint and steel atop the mantel, covered in centuries’ worth of dust. The dry kindling catches, and fire whooshes up and out, forcing me back a step. It’s a beautiful sight.
“My lady.” One of the servants shuffles forward, glancing at the flames nervously. “We’re not allowed to use the fireplaces. The lord has forbidden it.”
Of course he has. “Did you light the fire?”
“Well, no,” she whispers, frowning.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Heat licks at my skin, driving back the chill that is potent and undying. “Do you know when the king will arrive?”
“No, my lady.”
Does he expect me to await his arrival? I wait for no one where hunger is concerned. “Can you show me to the kitchen, please?”
With obvious reluctance, the woman leads me through a door, then a stairwell that descends to a set of double doors belowground. Curious, I push open the right door and step inside.
Wooden countertops frame the large room, nicked and burned and stained from countless knives and spills. It smells divine. Garlic? A red sauce bubbles in a pan atop one of three woodfire stoves. One of the many apron-clad specters stirs it with a spoon.
I remember that Orla cannot enjoy the taste of food. If the kitchen staff have been sentenced to serve the Frost King, does food turn to ash in their mouths as well? Or has he revoked that punishment for them, since their palates are needed to ensure the food is well-seasoned?
Aside from the stoves, hefty barrels filled to the brim with various grains and roots occupy the space, as well as a large basin sink, where a tower of dirty dishes leans precariously. In the center of the chaos, a rotund, kind-looking man with a gray beard barks orders. The cook, I assume.
“Excuse me.”
His eyes widen as he turns. “Apologies, my lady. I did not see you.”
