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It puts a smile on my tired face that only grows as I slip into her quarters and gift the treat to Melody.
“Yippee!” The child is a constant source of wonder. Her happiness is like a little rainbow peeking out between the clouds of life.
So, even as I want to wallow in pity, I decide that life is not all bad, even for a bondservant. There is a camaraderie in what we are, as in the way the kitchen staff rallied to hide what happened to Pippa. We take care of our own as best as we can within the constraints of our situation.
My heart softens toward the kitchen maid, who is guilty only of being young and gullible. If it were not for Doug, my own foolishness could have cost me my life.
But my trouble is not yet over. Once I have done getting Melody ready for bed, I will need to confess all to my mate and pray that his solution will not see him whipped… that he might have a solution to this cloud over me that does not see me punished as a deserter.
As Melody settles to sleep, she begs Bard to sing to her.
He does. A rich baritone that stirs the hairs on the back of my neck as he weaves a melody in a language unknown to me. The song soothes the tiny child. With her hands under her cheek, her eyes drift shut. Her wings are bound and hidden, but there is no mistaking her little pointed ears, the slight upturn to her nose, and the delicate features that are all fairy.
She will be a beauty when she matures.
As the final notes of Bard’s song fall upon the sleeping child, I feel my worries surface again.
I linger, and as Bard shuts the door to her bedroom and joins me, I see the fresh lines upon his face.
“Do you think they will move us on?” I ask, sensing change is coming for me once again. A part of me craves change, for it might liberate me from Trent’s shadow. But it might escalate matters too, and there is no way of knowing which way fate will fall.
“The only certainty is that we shall move on at some point,” he says. Taking a seat at the small table before the window, shuttered against the night, he indicates the opposite chair.
I take a seat.
“I believe it inevitable. They will seek to use her powers. Tulwin has made his interest plain. At the very least, he will want news on her progress. Edwin met with the warlord earlier. I heard the steward already begins plans for Edwin, who will be leaving within a matter of days. It seems reasonable to assume that our time here is coming to an end. When Edwin goes, all the servants go with him, save a skeleton crew who remain.” His smile is humorless. “I dare say they’ll be carrying on with the building work, but I expect we shall be leaving, one way or another. Whether we shall go with Edwin or Tulwin remains to be seen.”
“It never stops, does it?” I say quietly.
His eyes hold mine. “We are bondservants. We may never forget what we are.” His eyes shift to my throat.
The collar serves as the ultimate reminder that I’m a bondservant. To wear one is to facilitate our management should a situation occur, and they need to chain us up. A reminder that I am owned.
“I swore to Melody’s parents that I would protect her, yet I do not know how to protect her from this. I lurch from one day to the next, feeling like I am failing her over again. I can only do my best to shield her from what transpires. She does not have one bit of artifice. She’s sweet in nature. It will devastate her young mind when she realizes the part she plays in the Blighten war, the consequence of her portal games, and the lives that are being irrevocably changed because of what she does.”
I swallow and feel that familiar sting at the back of my eyes. All that he says is true, yet there is no way out of this. Sorrow wraps around us, an invisible cloak that nevertheless carries a great weight. She is still a young child, but she is of an age where she is transitioning from one stage into another. In my time caring for children, I have seen how they grow. How they begin fearless, but then, at some point around five, they understand danger, death, and what mortality means. Melody is on the cusp of such understanding. She’s not yet six years old. Soon, the tragedy of her life and the dreadful consequences of what she does will dawn upon her.
“She won’t want to do it,” I say. A heavy, cold lump settles in my lower belly, and I feel a little sick.
He nods slowly. “Fairies mature differently to human children. There is some time yet left. But, yes, even fairies do mature and, when she does, the knowledge will break her young heart.” His hand trembles as he rubs his forehead. “I wish I knew what to do for the best. How to coach her. How to protect her. The burden is so very heavy.”
I reach across the table and grasp his hand. It is old and gnarled, yet also warm when he squeezes mine back. We share a look. “Do you believe in the Goddess?”
He nods. “I do, yet her ways are mysterious to me. When viewed from my perspective, you and Melody have both barely begun life. I am old and, were I the one with portal skills, I would view my death as a kindness and relief.” His voice breaks. “I fear for Melody. She is so very innocent, and I fear the day when that will change.”
My heart is aching, for we are all very much trapped.
“You have a good heart, Jasmine,” he says. “But we must remember we are bondservants, and we can only take each day at a time.” He squeezes my hand once more before slowly releasing it. “You were right to remind me to have faith in the Goddess. We are her humble servants and must trust that she has higher plans. She blessed you with a good mate.” His smile is fleeting. “Best you get back to him, for it is late. Knowing Doug, he is sure to worry.”
A genuine smile lights my face. This is my favorite part of the day, when Doug and I can be alone, when we can close the little rickety door of our room and put the rest of life aside.
Then my smile fades as I recall that tonight, I need to talk to him.
“I will see you tomorrow,” I say.
* * *
I leave their quarters, half expecting Doug to be standing outside as he sometimes does if I am late. Only, he is not there. Maybe he is washing up in the cold showers or getting some food after laboring all day. My belly takes a slow tumble as I think about how he came to the room last evening, a little damp from having just washed up. I wonder if he will let me kiss him there again.
