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I lean up on my tip-toes to get a look at it, but it’s all words and letters, and I can’t read. The most I know is how to spell my family name for the taxes, and numbers too. I needed to learn those for my duties back at the village.
In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t know of many in the village who know how to read properly. Even the merchant’s daughter can read and write only the necessary words—silk, satin, cotton, linen, and whatnot.
“Huh,” is all I say as I fall back down onto the balls of my feet.
Guess I’m higher than even the butler now.
Wrapping my arms around my bodice, I wander my gaze from Terry on the windowsill to the heart of the kitchen, where the cook batters dough too harshly, her helpers scurrying in circles like confused rats.
No one meets my eyes.
With a hum, I wander over to Terry and, hitting her legs off the windowsill, perch myself beside her.
Her moody ocean eyes flicker to me. Her jaw clenches.
“What?” I cut straight to the point.
She stares out at the twilight gardens. My favourite are the willow trees whose deep, deep blue leaves glitter like crushed crystals in the right light.
“I have to help Sira,” she sighs after a moment, then twists around to push up from the windowsill.
I stop her with a heavy hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter, Terry?”
A bud of fear that she’s angry with me blossoms in my chest.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” I tell her, my voice dropping. “He made that pretty clear.”
Terry lets out a sigh that’s so heavy, it pushes out her generous bosom. Her eyes are moody as they meet mine. “I know. But that doesn't mean that things won’t change.”
My frown is a question.
She answers, “We can’t ... hang out anymore.” She pauses to shrug lamely. “No more lake swims, running through the castle, stealing sweets,” she adds in a low whisper. “I’ll wait on you, serve you, and that’s all.”
The frown on my face smooths out. Then, after a heartbeat, my face breaks out with a wide grin. “What are you talking about?” I lightly hit her arm. “Of course we’re still going to do all of that.”
“Actually, you won’t.” The butler rounds on us. “Lovers do not associate with the slaves.”
“But I’m still a slave,” I challenge with a dark smirk. “I have less than two months left of slavery. So until then, butt out of it.”
His face whitens a shade lighter. I can tell by the twitch of his jaw, he wants to order Hilda to give me a good beating with the rod. But he only backs off, his boots clicking on the floor, and snatches the parchment out of Hilda’s hands. He stalks over to Archer and Gary to give them a faintly audible rundown of their changes in duties. They are one house slave down, so that means more for the rest of them to pick up the load.
“He will tell the prince,” Terry says as Hilda comes up to us, her chubby arms wrapped tight under her bosom. “And the prince will have punishments for you. You’re not immune to them now.”
I shrug half-heartedly. “I really don’t think he cares if I spend time with you. The only thing he told me was to not help with the chores anymore.”
She looks up at me from beneath her long lashes. Her face softens into that angelic expression I recognise all too well, the false mask she wears to hide her true wickedness.
I smile. “Who’s going to chase fish with me in the lake when the prince isn’t here, if not you?”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “You do that alone. I swim.”
“Not everyone can swim,” I point out with a faint smile.
She warms to me, shifting closer on the windowsill. “You would learn if you ever left the shallows.”
I arch my brows. “Or I would drown.”
“All right,” Hilda cuts in, wearing a faint smile of her own and a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Terry, you should go assist Sira now. Those quarters won’t clean themselves.”
