Megari rolled her eyes, and under the cover of my bowl, I did the same. At least I wasn’t the only person who recognized a two-faced viper when I saw one.
As if on cue, a twisted smile bloomed on Zairena’s lips once we were alone.
“You’ve charmed Lady Megari,” she said, opening her umbrella and raising it aloft. “But that charm won’t work on me.” She turned on her heel and pointed at a stone structure opposite the castle. Smoke billowed from its chimney, and fire glittered in the windows.
“That is where you’ll work,” she said, then turned abruptly, guiding me toward a brick storehouse not far from the dungeon. A servant was waiting outside, holding a wooden bucket along with a folded blanket and a stack of robes—my new uniform, I assumed. After a hasty bow to Zairena, he thrust the items into my arms and scurried back toward the castle.
Zairena opened the storehouse’s back door. With relish, she gestured into the cellar. “And this is where you’ll sleep.”
My back went rigid. This was not the servants’ quarters, as Lady Bushian had promised.
Inside, a narrow wooden stairwell led to a cavernous chamber filled with sacks of rice and, from the smell, barrels of salted fish. There was no sleeping mat, no hearth, not even a place for me to heat a kettle.
Zairena arched a thinly painted eyebrow. “What, you thought you’d stay in the castle with the other servants? We can’t have you bringing ill fortune into the castle. Besides, no one wants to be near you with thatthingon your head.” She paused. “Except the rats, of course; they like to visit now that the weather has turned cold.”
Anger stirred in my heart. I was no fool: I would freeze sleeping in this place. Likely even fall ill and die.
“Hurry and wash,” Zairena said, stabbing the end of her umbrella into the ground. “Chiruan is expecting you in the kitchen.”
Wash? With what?
There was no water, only barrels of freshly caught fish scattered among the ones of those that had already been salted and dried. The smell was rancid.
Before she left, she lifted her cloak from my shoulders. “You won’t be needing this anymore.”
A chill instantly seeped into my bones, and Zairena shut the cellar door, leaving me in the dark.
At least it was quiet here. Secluded, too.
I peeked into my satchel. Bright light fanned out, illuminating the room. Everything was still inside, the fragile threads of starstroke sparkling as if stained by the blood of stars, the raw nettles still burning with demonfire.
I took one careful step down, then another and another. The wooden stairs were old, some cracked and splintered. Cobwebs clung to my hands when I touched the walls, and I shook them off, repulsed.
Rats squeaked, emboldened by the shadows, and I staggered against one of the barrels of fish. Demons take me, I hated rats. Not as much as I hated snakes, but close.
I opened my satchel wider. A sharp light spilled out, and the rats skittered, frightened by the dark magic I’d brought here. A small triumph.
I shivered as I dressed. It was still day and already it was freezing in here. That did not bode well for the night. Or the rest of the winter.
Something rustled outside, scraping against the wall.
Kiki?I called.
No, it was just an ordinary bird. Likely a raven or a crow.
Worry preyed on me. All week I’d called for her, stretching my mind as far as it could go, but Kiki never responded. Had Hasege found her and destroyed her? Or had she flown to my brothers, looking for help?
Strands of Emuri’en, I hoped she was safe.
I shut my satchel, and as the light from the starstroke dwindled, I raced back to the stairs before the rats regained the courage to come out again.
On the last step, I turned back, my eyes adjusting to the shadows and my ears picking out the skittering roaches andrats. Critters, unbearable cold, and rank smells—those I could deal with. This place was undesirable, which meant no guards, no maids. No one would come into the cellar, especially at night.
Little did Zairena know it, but she’d given me a sanctuary, a new workplace. Until I found a way to reunite with my brothers, it would have to do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The promise of warmth and food had me hurrying to the kitchen. The wooden building radiated heat, and inside, the cooks shouted orders for sesame oil and ginger while servants gossiped, stacking lacquer trays and porcelain cups and copper kettles. But when I entered, all became silent. The servants dropped their plates and waved charms to ward off demons; the cooks shut the lids over their clay pots and grabbed their knives.
