She hated this.
Hated the man her husband had become.
Hated these disgusting captains with their raucous voices all trying to vie for Leon’s favor.
She hated that she had nothing to contribute, no voice to express any thought or conversation. Besides the short visits to town to politely chat with shopkeepers, and the few and far between conversations with Marlo, Lenna couldn’t remember the last time she feltheard. The crushing realization made her screw her eyes shut, forcing out a short breath. Which in turn, made her head throb again.
Lenna’s thoughts subsided as Marlo appeared, silent as a ghost. He placed a plate in front of her that held a good helping of pheasant meat that had been set aside, avoiding the groping and ripping by the captains and Leon, who were now passing around the platters, wolfing down the pheasant with their fingers, snapping the bones and sucking the small remaining fragments of meat off. With a sympathetic look, Marlo slid out of the dining room.
The rest of the meal went by without a single word from Lenna.
After the pheasant was rendered down to its bones, and the rum bottles lay empty, Leon suggested they take this “meeting” to the study while boasting about his prestigious brandy collection, earning boisterous approval from the captains, who all stood when he did. A couple swayed a little–as if they were still on a boat and readjusting their limbs to land.
Drunks, the lot of them,Lenna thought, biting down on her lip to keep disgust from showing on her face. As they all stumbled out of the dining hall, not even one turned back to look her way.
The voices grew distant, and Lenna did not dare breathe until she heard the satisfying thud of the study door shutting, muting out the rowdy group. Lenna forced herself to relax, unclenching her jaw, loosening her hunched shoulders. Servants were not in the room yet to clear dinner, so gathering her wits back about her, Lenna began collecting the platters. The dinner had been so delicious, and she wanted to personally thank the kitchen staff for all their hard work.
Leon wouldn’t.
As Lenna carried dirty cutlery and empty bottles to the cart in the corner, the door to the kitchen creaked open. She looked up, expecting to see Marlo peeking into the room.
She was not expecting to come face to face with a bruised Orla.
Lenna gasped, dropping one of the bottles in her hands. It clattered to the floor, the noise causing the woman in the doorway to flinch. Orla’s face was a mottled mess of bruises, her stormy grey eyes bloodshot and puffy. Her black hair was slicked back and tied in a low bun against the nape of her neck, where ringed bruises that looked likehandprints marred her throat. Orla lowered her eyes, embarrassment heating her golden-brown cheeks.
“Orla,” Lenna breathed, all thoughts eddying out of her mind as she beheld the woman in front of her, “did Leon do this to you?” Heart pounding, she reached her hand out. Orla did not meet her gaze or take her hand.
Olivera had lied.
The thudding in Lenna’s head grew into a roar. Orla hadn’t been sick. She’d been hiding out of Lenna’s sight so Lenna wouldn’t see the damage her husband did. Lenna’s blood turned to ice in her veins, her ears rang as she took in the wraith-like young woman in front of her. Lowering her voice, Lenna slowly took a step towards Orla. “Tell me what happened. You won’t get in trouble. I just… I need to know.” Without any fuss, Orla allowed Lenna to steer her over to the table where Lenna quickly pulled out a chair. Orla took it, grimacing when she sat, still not meeting Lenna’s worried expression. Lenna took the seat next to her, clasping her hands in her lap.
Olivera’s daughter was roughly the same age as Marlo. But where Marlo had vibrance and life behind his eyes, Orla’s eyes held nothing but pain. “Orla, look at me. Whatever is going on with Leon, I can stop it. I can help you. I need you to be honest with me. Did he do this to you?”
Tears welled up in Orla’s pain-wracked eyes, streaking down the purple marring her cheeks. Orla lifted her head slightly, cringing at the movement. “At first, everything was fine, but when he started getting drunker and screaming at me, I wanted out. Lord Leon threatened my mother’s position, and mine, if I didn’t do what he wanted. He said if I stayed, he would double both our wages, but my pay never changed, only my mother’s did. And if I tried to run…” Another wave of tears streamed down her face. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, and the little money I have… It’s not enough to book passage to Bardon. Besides, mother said she’d never allow me to leave. I tried to, but she stopped me. She said I needed to stay and do my duty for this house. For her. No matter what.” A strangled half-sob escaped, choked back by Orla’s gritted teeth.
Lenna sat in shocked silence as the small sense of balance she felt in this world kicked up and off its axis. There was no doubt in her mind that Orla spoke the truth and Leon was a bigger monster than Lenna ever surmised. And Olivera… The woman fed her daughter to the wolf for extra salary.
Extra salary that she spent on what?Lenna mulled the thought around as her anger towards her husband grew. None of the extra money went to Orla.
With some gentle prodding and reassurance from Lenna, Orla poured out the whole sordid story. She spoke of late nights where Olivera forced her to work in Leon’s study when he was already drunk to bring him more drinks and stay for the aftermath. She spoke of the abuse she was told she had to endure, forced to stay silent by her cruel mother. Olivera served Orla up on a silver platter–just to gain footing above the other servants in the house and better pay from Leon.
“Olivera knows all of this,” Lenna stated slowly, her blood pumping loudly in her ears, her voice flat. “Oliveraencouragedthis.”Orla nodded once, twisting the hem of her white apron in her tawny, trembling, hands. Guilt wracked through Lenna as she realized this had escalated drastically while she hid away in her room. Even though it was due to the unbearable migraines, Lenna hated that she had no idea what was going on just a few hallways away. “Do any of the other servants know what happened?” Orla shook her head. Lenna stood up, the woman in front of her scrambling to her feet, a flash of fear shooting across her bruised face. “Come with me.” Seeing thepanic on Orla’s face, Lenna added gently,“Please.”
Lenna stormed into the kitchen, a hesitant Orla in tow. Shouting for Marlo, Lenna ushered Orla forward, weaving between the low preparation tables. Against the back wall, Marlo stuck his head up from the pot he was washing in the sink. His face paled when he took in Lenna and Orla. Quickly drying his hands on a rag tucked into his belt, Marlo hurried over. “Whathappened?” he asked in a strangled tone, gaping at Orla’s busted face, before quickly shaking his head and steering both women into a large walk-in pantry where none of the other servants could overhear.
“Leon’s been doing more than just slapping her, Marlo. And Olivera knows. He’spayingOlivera to keep quiet about it. Do you have any idea why Olivera would stoop so low for extra money?” Lenna hissed, quieting her voice to a mere whisper. Orla averted her eyes, scuffing her worn leather flats against the tiled floor of the pantry. “Why wouldn’t she just come to me?”
Marlo searched Lenna’s face before glancing back at Orla, his lips tightening into a thin line. Lowering his voice, he leaned closer to the women, the seriousness in his normally carefree tone giving Lenna pause. “Olivera owes money to someone. I don’t know all the details, but apparently she had very dangerous friends in the past, and they collect from some sort of debt she owes them.” Marlo sighed and shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands in the pocket of his trousers. “Olivera doesn’t talk about it, and I daresay she wouldn’t have opened up to you, either. I saw her when I was picking up an order from the butcher. She was arguing with a tall man dressed in some sort of mercenary armor in an alley. She handed him a bag of what I assume was payment for something, and I heard him say it wasn’t enough.” Lenna watched Orla carefully as Marlo’s brows knitted together. “The armor stood out to me. I have never seen the design aroundDoortan before. It was copper with an odd sun symbol engraved on the chest plate. I don’t think that the man was fromhere.”
Lenna closed her eyes, pinching the skin at the nape of her neck. Her headache was pounding now. There was so much deceit, right under her nose, and she knew nothing about it until now.
“Did Olivera see you?” Lenna prodded. Orla stayed silent, monitoring Marlo like a hawk from under her thick lashes. Lenna knew that look–it was the look deer gave as they froze in a field after hearing a branch snap–one wrong word and Orla would dart off.
“No,” Marlo breathed, holding up his hands, “The man left, and she went into a bar at the end of the alley. I tailed her there but couldn’t find her again. It was weird, but I couldn’t stay and do more digging. I had to pick up the meat order before the butcher closed for the evening.”
“When was this?”
“A couple months ago.” Marlo cocked his head, his blond hair gleaming in the dim light from the crack in the pantry door. “Right before Orla got pulled from kitchen duty and moved to Leon’s personal maid.”
