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“That woman,” I interrupted her, tired of hearing my maids crying, begging me to allow them to stay at the castle. Not once had I relieved any of them of their duties. Not even the most incompetent ones, like the one who had spilled hot soup all over me on not one but three occasions. Three!
The maid looked up at my reflection in the mirror. “What woman, Your Highness?”
“The one in the courtyard with the two little boys.”
The maid turned toward the window, which was now filled with droplets of rain.
“Go after her and offer her work.”
“E-excuse me?” the maid said.
“There was a woman in the courtyard asking for work. I want you to go after her and give her work.”
The maid and Frida exchanged looks.
“Work as what, Your Highness?” the maid asked, her tone almost a whisper. Frida, who had resumed torturing my head, cleared her throat.
“I think the girl is wondering as to where Your Highness would like to employ the woman. From the kitchen to the stables, the house has too many hands already.”
That was true. My father had filled the halls with desperate souls eager for work.
Frida frowned. “Your Highness is very kind but—”
“Kind?”
No! Not that word. No, no, no!
Against my will, the sentence that haunted my nightmares as much as my daydreams ran through my head.
The gods show kindness to those who show kindness first.
And with the phrase came the images of my mother’s empty eyes staring into nothingness as her red, swollen face was robbed of its beauty during those last, desperate breaths.
“It has nothing to do with beingkind,” I snapped at Frida. “More so with the uselessness of my current maids. Your hands are shaking like an earthquake, and whoever that is over there isn’t capable of entering a room properly.”
Silence set in. The maid by the door was trembling. They both knew better than to speak when I was upset.The Night Queen, the servants called me, with a heart as dark as the night itself. Maybe they were right.
“As far as I’m concerned, this woman is greatly needed. Now go,” I ordered the young maid, “before I give her your position, and it will be you journeying from town to town begging for work.”
The maid bowed, eyes wide in fear, then she twirled around and slammed the door behind her. The stomping sound of her feet echoed down the hallway as she ran as if her life depended on it. Which, in her mind, it did.
Frida sighed, then continued with my hair. “Are you quite finished, Your Highness?”
I frowned at her in the mirror. “Quite so.”
“Then let’s get you ready for your father. I will change the bun to the one your mother used to favor. It won’t take long.”
I let my silence be a sign of agreement. As much as I hated how it made me feel needy and weak, I did enjoy seeing my father. Even if those feelings hadn’t been mutual since the day my mother died.
