AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is that a question?” I tease half-heartedly.
“Give me that,” Yvette says, bustling forward to take the tray. “Make yourself useful and empty the bucket.” She lifts her chin at my toilet and I grimace. “And then get some wood up here.”
Yvette doesn’t even notice the exasperation in Bron’s jerky movements as he obeys her orders. She calls out to him when he gets to the door. “Oh, and if you catch his holiness, the deve, in a good mood, be sure to press for whatever you think he’ll allow.”
Stifling a snort, he tells her, “You’re going to get us all in trouble, Yvette.” He has to go around a woman hovering in the hall.
“Good morning, Kata,” Yvette says. “Come and hold the lady’s tray, will you? I need to make up the bed.”
The new woman cautiously shuffles forward. She’s short, not much taller than I am, with dark hair and the same pale complexion that everyone seems to share here. Her blue eyes blaze in the natural light from the window, but there are dark shadows under them and the drab homespun dress she wears washes her out. Thoughdressis a bit of a stretch, it’s more of a sack.
Yvette hands her the tray. “This is my cousin, Kata. She doesn’t speak. But she’s volunteered to help us out. Kata, this is her ladyship.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothingher ladyshipabout me, Kata, as you can see. My name is Rina.” The woman, or maybe she’s still a girl, shifts nervously on her feet and only chances a peek at me before she bows her head in greeting.
Yvette is all energy today and quickly unties the bundle she threw on the bed. My gasp echoes in the room, and she nods with approval. “Yes, I was most heartened by the deve’s generosity,” she says, arranging the furs over the straw-stuffed mattress.
My late-night visitor has replaced the one fur with three and I can’t repress the gratitude that rushes through me. The cold is so debilitating, both physically and mentally, and the thought of being done with the unending shivering makes me dizzy with relief.
“Come on, in you get. You can eat your breakfast and then get some proper rest.” Yvette holds the edge of the top fur for me and I do as I’m told.
Kata places the tray on my lap as Yvette breezes from the room, calling, “I’m going to make sure the wood is delivered.”
On the tray, is a cup of water and another bowl of gray mush, except today it’s much less watery. Again, there’s no utensil of any kind. Kata, who must decide my reticence is over the quality of the food, nods encouragingly, seeming to indicate that it’s not as bad as I think it is.
Pressing my lips together in a parody of a smile, I hold out my hands. “I just wish I could wash first,” I explain and she lights up with understanding before she gently shakes her head. “Good thing I had my vanity stripped from me long ago,” I tell her as I lift the bowl directly to my mouth and do my best to get the food into my stomach. It’s messy and humiliating, but I manage. When I’m done, I pull the corner of the shirt out from under the fur and very carefully wet it with a small amount of the precious water and attempt to clean my chin and nose. Then I drink down every drop.
I notice Kata staring at me and something pricks at my supposedly non-existent pride, especially when she raises her hand and makes to touch me. Pulling away, I watch her shake her head vehemently. She reaches out again and gently touches my cheek bone and then my wrist, the wrist which still bears the scabs and bruises of the shackle. From there, she places her hand over her mouth and kisses her fingers as if wishing me a speedy recovery.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” I tell her, my dignity still sore.
Again she shakes her head, but this time she also squeezes my hand. I get the impression that she’s thanking me for something. Though for what, I don’t know. Sensing my discomfort, she lets my hand go and takes the tray, heading for the door.
“Kata,” I call and she turns. “Thank you,” I say sincerely. Prickly pride or not, I’ve learned not to take anyone’s kindness for granted.
She gives me a parting smile, and I burrow down into the furs and finally get some sleep.
♦♦♦
Over the next few days, the regular food and sleep help immensely with the healing process. The wound on my thigh no longer wakes me with its ache in the middle of the night and though I can’t take regular steps without my ankle twinging, I feel almost human again. If only I were allowed to bathe. I’m filthy and I can barely stand the smell of myself.
I’m grateful for Yvette’s visits. She’s prone to chatter and her happy stories about her son leave me in good spirits even after she’s gone home for the day. Kata comes too, but her silent regard feels heavy at times.
Otherwise, I sit on my window sill. The stronghold is built around an enormous rectangular inner courtyard. The main building occupies the back wall and from my turret, three stories up, I have a bird’s eye view over everything.
From what I can tell, the stables run along the entire right wall and the warriors’ barracks are on the floor above, and the stronghold staff live on the left. Directly across from me, at the other end of the courtyard are the main gates, and in the center, lies a big ornamental sundial that lets me mark the time. And if I crane my neck, I can see the well, which is always busy, tucked close to the main building below the other turret.
But there’s only so much to see, and with nothing to keep me busy, my mind churns. I fear that because the deve hasn’t returned to ask any more of his questions, I’m officially living on borrowed time. Though Yvette still claims nothing has been decided, I’ve resigned myself to my fate.
It’s too bad that resignation doesn’t equal inner peace, because in the quiet, when it’s too dark see anything, I begin to think ofhim.Curiously, my mind chooses to avoid the realities of my situation and instead focuses on the little details that I find pleasing; his rumbling voice, his passion for horses, his graceful movements despite his size. It’s all a fantasy of course, but one I can’t seem to shake. At my lowest, I even try to imagine what it would feel like to have him put his hands on me, not in violence, but with careful desire, or even love.
I figure there’s no harm in it if it eases some of my despondency. It’s better than imagining his huge fists twisting my head right off my neck.
On one such night, not long before sunrise, I’ve been awake for hours, and to hold the melancholy at bay, I’ve resorted to imagining his smile. It’s purely fictional since I’ve never seen it, but it’s the most soothing thing I can come up with.
Unfortunately it causes me to miss the flare of the coals in the brazier as the air in the room shifts.
I experience a split second of terror between realizing there’s a figure looming over me and when a hand slams down hard on my mouth and jaw. Before I can even begin to fight, he’s on top of me, pinning me to the bed. Panic surges and my muffled screams fill my mind. With my arms trapped under the furs, I buck and twist and thrash, but he’s so heavy that I can barely breathe.
