Cat and Mouse

Callie couldn't bring herself to return the atelier that day. She walked unsteadily back to her bedroom, and it wasn't until she closed the door behind her that she realized she was still trembling. She had never been so profoundly terrified in her life. The sequence of events kept playing over again and again in her head. She had given the King the benefit of the doubt that, while he may have been a rake and seducer, he surely wasn't a predator. She had gone to his room, all reservations pushed aside, believing he would not be the kind of man to take advantage of a woman's trust and vulnerability. Clearly she had been mistaken. There was no question that she had resisted him. Not only resisted, she had literally fought him, but he still would not relent. He ignored her pleas and seemed to even relish her struggles, like they were no more than an obstacle for him to overcome. Had he not been interrupted, Callie knew he would have gone further still. The very thought made her sick to her stomach.

She could still feel his hands on her when she threw his jackets on the bed and went into her washroom to begin filling the tub with water. She needed to wash him off of her; she needed to calm down. She slipped out of her skirt and petticoat and began unbuttoning her blouse. She removed it along with her corset and chemise before slipping into the tub. The water was lukewarm, if not cold, but it still felt good against her skin. To take her mind off the King, her thoughts drifted to her mother.

What an amazing woman… That she could waltz into a strange kingdom, turn the whole thing upside down, and bring a king to his knees to rescue someone that she loved. Callie could only dream of having a fraction of such bravery and strength. But something about it gnawed at the corner of her mind: if her mother had gone to such lengths to rescue her brother, why had she not done the same for her only daughter? Had she been barred from the kingdom? Had it not occurred to her that the King might have taken her? Then a morose thought crossed Callie's mind: perhaps she just wasn't worth saving.

Callie felt her heart sink to its usual melancholic depths. She had always questioned her own worth, even before she was taken Underground. Her brothers were always so loud and demanding, never questioning whether they were actually deserving of the things they felt entitled to: their parents' attention, an extra serving of dinner, a ride in the front seat of the car. But Callie was never so sure. A voice in her head was always accusing her: who are you? Who are you to make such demands? Who do you think you are? The answer would come almost immediately, I am no one. I am a stagehand. I am a shadow in the background of everyone else's lives. My place is out of the way, behind the curtain, neither seen nor heard. That was how she lived her life. It was lonely, but it was easy. It was mute, but it was quiet. It was constrained, but it was safe.

Or so she thought.

Callie lifted herself out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. Though it was barely five o' clock in the evening, she felt exhausted. The events of the day weighed so heavily upon her that she didn't even bother putting on her nightgown before collapsing on the bed. She laid on her side, facing the door, her heavy-lidded eyes fixed on her mother's music box. Reaching her hand out, she lifted it off the nightstand and wound the key as far as it would go. She listened to the lilting melody, watching the doll turn in endless circles, until she couldn't stay awake any longer.

The next day, she got an earful from Arachnus for not returning to work after the fitting, but Callie found it difficult to concentrate on his reprimand. She could only mutter an apology and fall into her seat at the sewing machine to begin the alterations on the jackets. Even taking her time and going as slowly as possible, she finished the work within a couple hours. After tying off the last stitch, Callie just sat idly at her machine, staring at the detestable garments as she fidgeted nervously with a pair of fabric shears in her hands. When Arachnus looked over to see that she wasn't working, he began to lose his patience.

"Callie!" he snapped, causing her to jump, "Are you finished with the jackets?"

"Yes," she answered feebly, still looking on in weary daze.

"Then hang them up!" he demanded. He shook his head, returning his attention to the cutting table. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately," he muttered.

Callie did as she was told, hanging the jackets up on the rack, but just as sluggishly as she had performed the alterations. Arachnus scowled at her, then picked up the center front piece of the newly cut ballroom jacket and handed it to her.

"Here," he said, "Cut a strip of fabric and sew binding to the buttonholes. Once you're done, you can take the finished jackets back to the King."

Callie took the piece and sat down again at her sewing machine, a creeping feeling of dread falling over her. He wanted her to deliver the jackets to the King, to be alone in a room with the King… A cold sweat broke out on her back. She continued to fidget with the fabric shears as the previous day's events flashed through her mind, her heart racing, her vision swimming. She felt like she was still there, still fighting him. Her hand now gripped the shears, the open blade pressing into the palm of her right hand. She could almost hear him whispering against her ear, feel him dragging her beneath his looming form. She could feel the petrifying terror, gripping her. She counted her breaths as they came shallow and shuttering. One… two… three… Squeezing her eyes shut, she jerked the shears back with full force, slicing her palm wide open. She cried out in pain, doubling over as she cradled her now bloody hand to her chest.

"Callie?" Arachnus called out with concern. He rushed over to her and saw the blood dripping off of her hands onto her skirt. "Heavens, child, what happened?"

"I don't know," Callie groaned. Arachnus jumped up and scurried back to the cutting table, quickly tearing off some strips of cotton voile to wrap around her palm.

"You won't be able to work like this," he said shaking his head as he wrapped her hand tightly in the cotton, "Go back to your room, and keep pressure on the wound. Try to move your hand as little as possible."

Callie nodded and stood up from her seat, drifting slowly toward the door. As soon as she stepped out into the hallway she felt a flood of relief wash over her. Her hand throbbed painfully by her side, but she would not have to see the King today, and for that she could have almost wept for joy.

The King waited in his chambers, shifting through papers on his desk as he sipped a glass of wine. He usually attended to important matters of state in his study, but his tailor had informed him that the jackets would be done by midday, and that he would send Callie to deliver them. The documents detailed the new taxation guidelines and trade agreements with neighboring kingdoms, but he could hardly concentrate on any of it. His mind was constantly consumed by thoughts of the Champion's daughter. Sarah's daughter.

She had been easy to ignore as a child. She stayed out of the way, attending to her duties, hardly ever leaving the atelier. As a child, she served only as a double-edged source of both satisfying vengeance and bitter resentment. Though her presence in the castle meant that he had finally gotten the upper hand over the woman who jilted him years ago, she was also a constant reminder that his beloved Sarah had married and born children for some other man. That alone was enough reason to loathe her, making her existence within the castle as miserable as possible. But as the years passed, he noticed her less often and eventually forgot about her altogether. That is, until the day he saw her at the lily pond.

He had thought the gardens were empty and he could finally get a moment's peace to himself without having the address the problems and concerns of an entire kingdom. The gardens were, in fact, built for that explicit purpose and most of the castle's inhabitants knew to stay well away from them. But that's where he saw her, slipping out of her dress, running her fingers through her coset lacing before peeling it right off. The sun shining through the garden revealed a shadow of her delicate figure through the long, loose-fitting garment she retained. Then, stepping down into the pool, she laid herself out across the water like a dark-haired Ophelia, only her thin, white chemise still clinging to her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was like his Sarah had never left.

He couldn't help himself. He had to lure her away; he had to be alone with her. When he cornered her in the hallway that day and kissed her, she squirmed in his arms so prettily, it stirred up all those frustrated passions that had long laid dormant. She was clearly frightened of him, but that only made it all the more enticing. His Sarah had also been frightened, she had also been resistant and defiant, but that was just all part of the allure. After all, only the strongest of wills are really worth breaking.

He almost gave into temptation yesterday, all that talk of her mother reopening old wounds as she stood so very near to him. He would have had her right there if the captain of his guard hadn't picked such a horrendous time to discuss issues of security. But he knew he would see her again soon. In a matter of minutes she would be knocking on his door, all timid and demure, jackets draped over her arm. He wouldn't have to wait long.

However, when the knock finally came at the door, he jumped up and rushed to answer, only to find, much to his disappointment, the tailor waiting on the other side instead of Callie.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he greeted him, "We have completed the changes to your jackets."

"Where's Callie?" the King asked with a frown, "I thought she was supposed to deliver them."

"Callie sustained an injury at work today," the multi-armed man answered, "A pretty bad one at that. She will likely be out of commission for a couple of weeks."

"I see," the King replied, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's no worry, Your Majesty," the tailor assured him, "We're ahead of schedule right now, so even without Callie working, we will still be able to have your jacket ready in time for the ball."

"Well, that's good to hear," the King answered, not sounding particularly pleased. "Go ahead and hang them in the closet."

"Wouldn't you like to try them on first?" the tailor inquired.

"I will try them on later," the King replied dismissively, returning to his desk.

"As you wish," the tailor answered, going over to the closet to hang up the jackets. He gave the King a brief bow before exiting and closed the door behind him.

The King sat at his desk, now tapping a gloved finger at his jaw as he glowered. The timing of Callie's injury struck him as especially odd. He knew that, after their encounter the day before, she would be reticent to return, but having made his expectations explicitly clear, he had little doubt that she would comply. Would she really go so far as to purposefully injure herself just to avoid him?

The thought brought a smirk to his lips. How fun. He always did enjoy a good game of cat and mouse. Her mother had always been a runner so why should he be so surprised to find that Callie is too? Clearly the peach doesn't fall so far from the tree. Yes, he would let her run, he would give her a head start even. So much sweeter the victory when she was finally caught.

Callie sat by the pond's edge, watching the calico-scaled carp kiss the underside of the water's surface. Her hand still stung, throbbing through the bandages as she cradled it in her lap. She hadn't meant to cut herself so deeply. Now she would likely be unable to work for weeks. Not only would she have no part in the construction of the ballroom jacket, but Arachnus would now have to do it all on his own. As relieved as she was to be out of the King's reach, she also couldn't help but feel guilty. Hopefully after a few weeks of her absence, the King would forget about her and move on to some other diversion, leaving her to live and work in peace.

"You're certainly off early," she heard a voice behind her say.

Callie jumped and turned her head, relieved to see Artemisia standing behind her.

"Hi," she said, smiling weakly at her before turning back towards the pond. Artemisia sat down next to her.

"You didn't come to see me yesterday," Artemisia stated.

"I'm sorry," Callie replied softly, "I wasn't feeling very well." She kept her eyes downcast kicking her bare feet nervously in the water.

"What happened here?" Artemisia asked, pointing to her bandaged hand.

"I cut myself on a pair of scissors," Callie answered. "It's pretty bad. That's why I'm not at work right now."

"Can I see it?" Artemisia asked.

Callie gave her her hand, allowing Artemisia to gently unwrap the bandages until the wound was in view, no longer bleeding so profusely, but split wide open in an angry, red gash.

"Good lord, Callie!" Artemisia exclaimed, "How on earth did you manage this?"

Callie shrugged. "I can be pretty absent-minded sometimes," she said with a weak chuckle, "I wasn't really paying attention."

"This might need medical attention," Artemisia told her in a serious tone.

Callie pulled her hand away and shook her head, still keeping her gaze averted. "No, it's fine," she insisted, "I'll just keep it bandaged and it should heal in a couple of weeks." She wrapped the bandages back around her hand, and returned it to her lap.

Artemisia regarded her intently. Something was definitely off. She was far more withdrawn than usual and she wasn't even looking at her. She had been that way since their chance encounter in the King's chambers just the day before.

"Callie," Artemisia said seriously, "What happened yesterday?"

"I told you," Callie replied, "I just wasn't feeling very well."

"No, I mean what happened when you were in the King's room?" Artemisia asked.

Callie didn't answer. Her brows furrowed as she kept her eyes fixed to the pond's surface.

"Callie, did he…" Artemisia tried to find a way to word it delicately, "Did he lay his hands on you?"

Callie closed her eyes, furrows deepening in her brow as a pained expression crossed her face. She hesitated a moment, then nodded slowly.

Artemisia clenched her fists. "How far did he go?" she questioned further.

"Pretty far," Callie replied, her voice breaking a little bit. "I will always be grateful to you for showing up when you did. If you hadn't, then I know he would have…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the statement.

"Why didn't you tell me, Callie?" Artemisia asked, feeling a little hurt.

Callie shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I had… invited it," she murmured.

"Invited it? Why the hell would I think that?" Artemisia demanded.

Callie lowered her head. "Perhaps I was a little too eager when we were together the other day," she said softly, "I didn't want you to think that I am that way with everyone."

"Callie, I told you before, I've known the King for years," Artemisia explained, "If there's one person to blame for what happened, it's certainly not you."

She was livid. She had always known the King was something of a libertine and chasing the skirts of servant girls wasn't entirely beneath him, but she never thought he would stoop so low as to use force on someone unwilling. And Callie of all people. Hadn't he told her that he was planning on making her his bride? Why would he treat a woman he planned on taking to wife with so little dignity?

Artemisia turned toward Callie and stroked the side of her face with her hand.

"Callie," she said softly, "Please don't believe that I think any less of you because of what we did that day. I'm glad we did it. You were so beautiful."

Callie smiled and pressed her hand over Artemisia's. "I'm glad we did it too," she whispered.

"I will do whatever I can to keep you safe from the King," Artemisia assured her, "Have you told Arachnus yet?"

Callie shook her head.

"Why not?" Artemisia asked in frustration, "If you don't let him know, he's just going to keep sending you to the King by yourself."

"How can I tell him?" Callie murmured softly, turning away. "It's too shameful. It was hard enough telling you."

"Let me talk to him for you," Artemisia offered, "You don't have to deal with this on your own, Callie. You have people who care about you."

Callie lifted her gaze to her, a soft smile on her lips. "You care about me, Artemisia?" she murmured.

Artemisia turned to Callie and brushed her fingers through her hair, tilting her head up so she could look into her eyes. She leaned in, kissing her tenderly as she stroked her fingers down the nape of her neck. For a moment, Callie felt all her anxiety melt away, her whole world completely absorbed into Artemisia. When she pulled away, she gazed again into Callie's eyes, pressing her forehead against hers.

"Yes, Calliope," she whispered, "I do care about you."

Arachnus was putting the kettle on the range as he scooped a spoonful of tea leaves into his teapot. He had finally settled in for the night after working a few hours overtime in the atelier, trying to keep on top of his workload. He'd forgotten how much longer everything took without Callie there to help him. As strangely as she'd been acting lately, she always had been a big help to him. Even before meeting her, he had always been wrapped up in his work, not really caring so much about other people as the clothing that they wore. When he first learned he would be receiving the Champion's daughter as his assistant, he was irritated. He didn't have a fondness for children, and he never married, so he never had much of a chance to develop one. Surely he did not possess the patience to babysit some petulant brat while he tried to focus on getting work done. But Callie did not turn out to be what he expected. Even as a child, she was so very quiet and withdrawn. She was eager to help and always did as she was told. Then, as she got older, she developed an interest in the craft that almost rivaled Arachnus'. He was only all too happy to teach her, having never met anyone who shared so intense an interest in tailoring as he had. The more she learned, the more indispensable she became, to the point that even a week or two without her help felt impossible to accomplish.

The sound of the kettle pierced the air, and as he reached over to remove it from the heat, a knocking came at his door. He growled under his breath, annoyed to be receiving visitors at this time of night, especially after such a long day. After pouring the boiling water into the teapot, he shuffled toward the door as the visitor knocked a second time.

"I'm coming!" he grumbled, before reaching for the handle. He opened it to see the lady soldier from His Majesty's guard standing at his threshold.

"Do you know what time it is?" he demanded.

She regarded him with a cool, unwavering expression even as he scowled at her.

"I'm here to ask you a favor," she stated simply,

"Who are you to be asking favors of me?" he snarled, nearly slamming the door in her face. But she caught the door before he could close it, now looking more intensely at him.

"Not a favor for me," she told him, "A favor for Calliope. I'm here on her behalf."

The mention of his apprentice caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes at her, taking a moment to consider her request. Finally, he sighed and opened the door, inviting her inside.

"Take a seat," he told her, pulling out a chair for her at his kitchen table. She sat down as he poured two cups of tea, offering her one before taking the seat right across from her.

"What is this favor you need?" he asked, puffing at the steam over his cup.

"I need to ask that you stop sending Callie to fit the King by herself," the soldier answered, taking a sip of her beverage.

Arachnus blinked all four eyes at her blankly. "May I ask why?" he inquired.

The soldier raised her hazel eyes to meet his, wearing a sober expression. "The King, as of late…" she began with some hesitation, "has been behaving ungallantly towards Callie." She tapped the side of her teacup nervously. "During his last fitting, he took one too many liberties with her. She fears that if she continues to do his fittings on her own, he will only continue to… escalate in his advances."

"Nonsense!" Arachnus barked, "The King is an honorable man. Callie must have misunderstood."

"An honorable man, but still a man," Artemisia continued. "You'd be surprised what becomes of honorable men when you put them alone in a room with a pretty girl."

Arachnus was silent for a moment, considering her words. Callie had been so reluctant whenever he sent her to assist the King, but he'd always just dismissed it a result of her natural timidity. It hadn't even occurred to him that she might have other reasons for her objections.

He let out a heavy sigh, scratching his head with one of his hands. "I should have known," he said, "She was always coming up with excuses. She usually just does as she's told, but when it came to the King…"

"She said she was too embarrassed to tell you directly," the soldier told him, taking a sip of her tea, "so she asked me to tell you on her behalf."

"So why did she send you in particular to tell me?" Arachnus asked, "Who exactly are you to Callie?"

The soldier looked taken aback, clearly unprepared for that question. She shifted her gaze to the side as a faint blush crept across her olive complexion. "Callie and I have become very close over the past few months," she answered cryptically.

"Ay, and I heard that you've been very close with a couple of the King's chamber maids as well," Arachnus stated accusingly, "You're the Captain of the Guard, correct? Your reputation proceeds you, madam."

She looked at him speechless for a moment, before furrowing her brows and shifting her gaze downwards. "It's different with Callie…" she murmured.

"Of course it is!" Arachnus scoffed.

"It is," she insisted, raising her gaze back up to meet his, "Do you think I would be here at this time of night to entreat you if it wasn't?"

Arachnus crossed a pair of his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I've known Callie since she was a small child," he told her, "I practically raised her on my own. She's like a daughter to me. I will gladly do whatever it takes to protect her from the King if that's what's required of me. But don't give me a reason to protect her from you as well, because I won't hesitate to do so."

"I won't, sir," the Captain answered earnestly, "And I promise to do my part to keep her safe as well. But as her guardian and employer, I wanted you to be aware of what was going on before it spiraled out of hand."

"I appreciate that," Arachnus said with a nod.

The Captain emptied the contents of her teacup and stood up from the table. "Well, I've said what I came here to say, so I won't impose on you any longer," she told him, "Thank you for the tea."

Arachnus remained sitting at the table, arms still crossed. "May I at least have the name of my ward's valiant, young suitor?" he inquired.

"It's Artemisia, sir," she answered.

"Artemisia…" he repeated. He stood up from the table and walked her to the door. "Thank you for coming to speak with me. Please take care."

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir," Artemisia said with a bow. Then she turned and stepped out into the darkness, disappearing from view.