“Serafina.”
My shoulders hitched, the sound of my name brambles that twisted around my legs, rooting me in place. “Master Mortis.”
“Where were you off to in such a hurry earlier?”
I turned to face him, preferring not to have him at my back. “Beg your pardon, sir?”
He closed the space between us in three long strides. “I saw you on the trail to the lower pastures. You weren’t visiting that shepherd boy again, were you?”
Mortis’ build was lean, and yet his height still allowed him to tower over me in such a way that I felt like a mouse before a raptor. His face was hawkish, and his dark hair gleamed with the unnatural sheen of overused pomade. The sickly sweet scent of moth-repellent sachets clung to his clothes, thick enough to coat my tongue.
“Yaga sent me to collect herbs.”
“Herbs, was it?” He tugged the starched collar of his high-necked shirt. “Herbs you happened to find in the pasture, no doubt.” His eyes narrowed to slits, slicing deep into mine as if to carve out my darkest secrets. “What do you and that boy get up to when you’re together?”
“Sir?”
“Come now.” His narrow lips curled on one side. “You know better than to think you can hide things from me.”
I stiffened. Though he was my superior, I’d learned that if I didn’t push back, a tiny bit, his insinuations would only grow more vile. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean. I checked on Speck while I was in the area because he is a youth with a disability whom I am treating.” Also, spending time with him made my meager existence tolerable.
“Youth, you say?” He tipped his head back, granting me an unobstructed view up his nostrils. “By my measure, he’s only a few summers younger than you.”
Gah! And there went that wiggling nose hair.
“Seven summers apart, exactly. And I really must be going. As you know, it’s a busy night,” I said, my tone clipped.
“Always rushing,” he purred in a way he likely believed was seductive. “You do realize, if you’d marry me, I could make you an honest woman. A free woman. The high ruler would bless our union once I paid your bride price.” It wasn’t the first time he’d dangled my freedom before me like a poisoned apple.
Still, I’d no desire to trade one master for another, least of all Mortis. Better to stay chained than shackled tohim. Unlike most women my age, I had little interest in husbands or suitors. Not that I would ever trust anyone with my affections.
“Serafina?” Rose, one of the housemaids, called from the end of the hallway.
Uttering a low growl of annoyance, Mortis stepped back.
“Cookie said to fetch you. You’re, um…” Rose’s eyes flicked to the steward before darting away, “needed in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Rose. I’m headed there now,” I said quickly, seizing her excuse like a woman drowning. I slipped past Mortis, the air between us thick with his irritation.
“Don’t let me catch you dawdling again, Serafina. I’ll not tolerate laziness on my watch,” Mortis snarled to cover his actions, his cheeks reddening. With a brisk turn, he stalked off, the heels of his highly polished boots clipping along the floor.
I exhaled slowly, watching Mortis’ back recede until heturned the corner and was blessedly gone. Only then did I let my shoulders drop.
“You okay?” Rose whispered, giving me a quick head-to-toe.
“Fine,” I answered, hoping she wouldn’t notice the anxious rattle in my voice. Mortis was getting far more assertive in his attempts to persuade me. What would happen when he stopped taking no for an answer? I shivered at the thought. “Let’s make our way to the kitchen.”
Side by side, Rose and I slipped into the narrow servants’ corridors and downstairs to the cramped dining hall. Most of the household staff were already gathered, shoulders brushing in the tight space. Unlike me, each of them was a free soul, earning a modest wage for their labor. Rose and I claimed two seats near the end of the bench, filling our plates and tucking into our suppers.
I’d just stuffed my cheeks with honey bread when Winnie, one of the maids, asked, “Did you hear what happened in Graycott?”
I shook my head, pressing my fingers to my too-full mouth.
Not one to let an interesting story get in the way of good manners, Gingus mumbled through a wad of half-chewed food, “Heard they were attacked. The creatures rose from under the ground, killing their menfolk, stealing their women, and eating their babies.”
Cookie hustled over, frizzy blonde curls eluding her cap, plump cheeks red from leaning over her pots. She dropped a tray loaded with turnips before us and smacked the back of the valet’s head. “Gingus Sheplynn, best you get to putting some food into that belly of yours instead of the mead you’ve been drinking. It’s addled your brain.”
Chuckles sounded around the table.
