Page 55 of The Thirteenth Count

Fern didn’t gasp. She didn’t jolt awake. Her eyes opened to the same cold ceiling they had opened to every morning for weeks now, already bracing for the distant thrum of the underground pumps that bled through the walls and into the heavy iron legs of the bed. She knew that sound now. The hiss of steam in the pipes. The faint mechanical pulse beneath the floor. The whole mountain breathing around her.

That was the part she hated most.

The Keep was no longer unreal or temporary. The velvet drapes, the wardcandle’s amber glow, the polished floor beneath her feet, the bruised twilight pressing at the window—all of it had settled into a routine her body understood before her mind could fight it. Familiarity had not made the place gentler. It had only organized her captivity.

Ashford Cross had never been further away.

Below her, the veins carried on with their sinister work. The Keep’s elegance rested on the backs of those deemed lesser, and every polished surface reminded her of it.

Sprout stirred against her shoulder and blinked up at her with large, nocturnal yellow eyes. He was curled into a tight ball of black fur, ears swiveling toward the door. He hated the vibration of the pumps.

“I know, little love,” Fern whispered, stroking his velvet-soft head. “The mountain is growling again.”

Sprout let out a chitter of agreement and burrowed deeper into the silk pillows.

Fern swung her legs out of bed, and the chill of the floor climbed straight through her bare feet into her bones. The latch clicked, and her shoulders tightened before she could stop them.

On the bed, Sprout lifted his head just as Lina slipped through with a copper pitcher in her hands, steam curling from its spout. The young maid moved so silently she might have materialized from the shadows of the corridor.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you both. I oiled the hinges,” Lina said. “High Blackwell does not appreciate squeaking metal. He says it disturbs the concentration.” She crossed to the basin and poured the water in. Steam rose in soft white ribbons. “Come. The water will not stay hot for long.”

Fern walked to the basin. Lina dipped a cloth into the hot water, wrung it out, and began scrubbing Fern’s face, neck, and arms. When she reached for Fern’s hands, she worked at the callus on her thumb with a rag slicked in fat.

“You’ll need gloves until this softens,” Lina said.

Fern frowned. “For a callus?”

“For what it says,” Lina glanced up. “Hands like these draw notice, and not the right kind.”

“I held a rather tricky vine yesterday in the solarium,” Fern muttered, trying not to remember standing terrified before High Blackwell.

“That wasn’t labor. That was a lesson.” Lina patted Fern dry. “Here, they’d rather see gloves than rough skin.”

Lina crossed to the wardrobe, drawing out a dress of heavy emerald fabric. Severe, high-necked, long-sleeved, with gold buttons. Then she pulled free a pair of black silk gloves.

“Why not my usual grey?” Fern asked, touching the delicate fabric. “This isn’t… me.”

Lina didn’t look up as she unbuttoned the dress. “Willem passed me in the hall. You’ll be meeting with Lady Blackwell today for lessons.”

“Does it matter what I wear?”

Lina stopped. Her careful servant’s blankness slipped.

“Everything matters,” she whispered. “Lady Blackwell is especially fond of a polished appearance.”

She helped Fern into the dress. “Use your silence, Miss. She breaks things that fight.”

Lina dressed Fern and set to work taming the mess of her curls.

“Lina… I’ve been wondering something. Where does the door in the grand staircase lead?” Fern asked before she could stop herself. “There are always guards coming in and out of it.”

Lina’s hands froze just as she was pinning a curl back.

“Don’t ask about below,” she said quietly.

Fern turned her head. “Why?”

Lina wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Because there are places in this house servants do not discuss, and wise girls do not wonder about aloud.” She finished pinning Fern’s hair back, her fingers suddenly too quick. “Especially not before breakfast.”