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“They will get eaten. Never mind all the cakes. And you never mind all your gossip and exaggerating.” Corrin claps her hands at Fikar. “Get to work.”
“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth!” He sets to hanging the clean silver jugs from the hooks on the ceiling. He’s the only one who can reach them. “Ask Manfred. He had to haul the headless body out.”
Gasps sound as servants steal looks to see others’ reactions.
“Whoever it was, surely they deserved it,” I mumble.
Too loud, it seems. As one, they gawk at me, as if they had all assumed my tongue didn’t work up until now. I’ve never joined in any of the chatter before.
But none of them know why Atticus did what he did. I know why. The king himself divulged his secrets to me. A warm glow spreads in my chest with that knowledge.
How long before I can see him again?
A darker thought stirs.
What if I can’t? What if he thinks I’ve made my choice and he’s already in search of someone willing to serve him?
Jealousy burns inside with that thought.
Fates, I was such a fool.
“You shouldn’t be on your knees,” Corrin scolds, bringing a broom over. “You’ll cut yourself.”
“I won’t. And stop mothering me. I’m fine.” I’m more than fine. All those aches and twinges after birthing Suri have vanished since Wendeline’s healing touch. The residual bleeding has ended. Even my stomach feels taut. Aside from my ability to nurse, my body feels like my own again.
And I’m irritated with Corrin. “You went to him?” I whisper with accusation, not wanting anyone to hear.
Her jaw sets with indignation. “Of course I did. On your behalf.”
“Why?”
She crouches alongside me, picking at bits of pastry with her stubby fingers. “Because he needs to know that you have no interest in being a tributary again. Is that not true?”
I swallow. It was true, but that was before I met the king.
Now … I don’t know what I want, except that if I get another chance, I might do things differently.
Corrin’s stare is severe. “Remember your place, Gracen. You are a mortal in a kingdom where we serve, and nothing more. Do not get swept up in fantasy and charm.” She shakes her head and sighs. “These relationships between tributary and keeper are not always like what you faced, but they can be equally dangerous.”
The only relationship I’ve ever experienced was one of abuse and neglect, and all the keepers in Freywich were the same, so I have nothing to compare it to. But I’ve heard tales of mortals who fall in love with their keepers, who are utterly devoted to them. “I don’t know if I would call it dangerous.”
“That is because you have not picked up the pieces of their hearts for them. I promise you, it’s much like this.” She casts a hand over the bits on the floor. “I have seen more than one young woman fall victim to foolishness, caught up in a crown. Look at Sabrina! She was his tributary for mere weeks and already fawning over him.”
“She was,” I admit.
“And the moment she was no longer of use, he cast her into the dungeon.”
“That is different, Corrin, you know that. And he didn’t execute her.” He couldn’t bring himself to punish her for serving him. He told me so.
Corrin harrumphs as if that’s not proof of anything. “The royal family’s tributaries are highly sought-after positions. The mortals who serve can do so for decades if they prove their loyalty and form a bond. I assure you, Sabrina had lofty dreams about her life. I’m sure she dreamed of being his only tributary.” She snorts. “And what kind of life do you think she’ll dream of now, wearing that mark and playing the baker’s nursemaid?”
As if mentioning her name summons her, Sabrina strolls into the kitchen with Lilou in her arms, Mika trailing beside. Her mark glows like a beacon, and people step back and steal wary glances, as if they can catch her disease.
She lifts her chin to feign bravery as she makes her way to me. “Suri is fast asleep, and these two wish to say good night.”
I climb to my feet. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Dagnar put a pallet in the corner of the room for me. It’s a bit cramped in there. I hope you don’t mind that they’ve put me with you.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Though she might. Her new home is a far cry from her tributary quarters.
Her demeanor is subdued as compared to the Sabrina of the past. Maybe she needs a good night’s sleep after spending days awaiting a noose. Or maybe Corrin is right and her heart was left in pieces on the dungeon floor.
“Thank you, Sabrina.”
She nods solemnly and smiles, but I see the sadness where earlier, tears of appreciation masked it.
