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And yet, he ignores me in a way; he says nothing. I am a ghost, only he can see me.
A ball of relief shrinks in my chest as I make for the balcony. Pulling at the golden rope beside the doors, I peel apart the curtains.
Natural night-lights creep into the chambers—glowing fruits from the trees down in the gardens, the stone balcony itself faintly gleaming like the stories of a crescent moon grandfather told me all about.
Throwing a last-moment glance around me, I realise that my tasks are all finished.
Tucking my chin down, I walk back up around the wall, the long way through the chamber, and head to the door.
I leave—and the prince watches me go.
Sira is waiting for me on the other side, a tense and eager look on her face, as though she’s about to burst. The dark circles around her eyes seem brighter.
I loosen a sigh of relief and slump back against the wall. “I did it.”
A bright smile breaks out across her face and she quietly claps her hands together.
I leave out the fact that the prince watched me. Nothing came of it, and it caused no trouble other than the blush that stretches across my face and down to my breastbone.
Sira sweeps up my hand in hers and tugs me away from the door.
Her smile fades only slightly as she says, “Let’s loot for leftovers.”
A grin of my own inches onto my face.
We rush down the corridor, headed for the now-quiet kitchen and wait for the cook to turn her back.
We manage to pinch two sandwiches, and we take them away to a quiet slave corridor where we sit on the faded carpets and nibble away on our treats.
I think ... I think I can survive this.
2
Sira’s advice about the guards has already saved me in the castle.
One week into this new life, and Stacy—another newcomer—has been attacked. She was washing the floors in the west tower when a guard cornered her.
Before the attack, she couldn’t have been a house slave. Now, she’s not even fit for a backroom slave life. She’s in the kitchens, wearing new scars to her warped, wrinkled-looking neck, and she spooks easily.
At any clatter of a bucket in the basin or slap of a mop on the floor, her muscles jolt beneath her skin and she’s fast to scurry to the cook’s side.
The pity I carry for her is dampened by the relief I feel for myself. I wish the attack on her had never happened—but then on the other hand, better her than me. A beating like that, a guard cutting her up like a fresh loaf of bread, I don’t think I could survive that.
So I do what I can to stick to the shadows when I absolutely must leave the slave quarters. I’m fortunate though, since I’m not on cleaning duties. Most of the slave corridors and stairs lead straight to the rooms I visit—the prince’s chambers, the parlour room, the Hall, his office, and even the pond room at the rear of the castle where he sometimes takes a swim before the Quiet. I only need to venture out into the grandeur and terror of the castle when he’s in his library, and I’ve been rung by the bell to bring him refreshments.
My way keeps me out of sight of the guards. They do notice me when I tend to the prince’s office, or serve in the Hall, but beyond that being a part of their duties, I doubt they have spotted me as a target.
Likely, they recognise that the castle is short on house slaves and that if I was attacked as brutally as Stacy, then my face wouldn't hold up for my duties anymore. We have to be presentable.
That’s why Hilda has taught me how to braid my own hair to frame my face, then twist the plaits into a bun at the nape of my neck, and why I’ve been given a second set of dress (underskirt, fresh cream-toned bodice, new overskirt and all) to ensure that I’m always well-dressed for service every day.
Hilda was also quick to move me from the kitchen’s backroom and up into the slave quarters. I share Sira’s room now. And since I’m a house slave, a small wooden basin has been moved into the room in which I bathe each Quiet among the lavender petals. I have to smell fresh as well as look it.
When I’m not on my duties—like now, since the prince has gone off to the palace—I spend most of my time being fussed over by Hilda (who I think has taken a shine to me) or helping Sira with her chores.
I help her now.
Well, it’s more like I help keep her company.
