Chapter 8


Isa lay still, waiting for the hammering to stop, but the rhythmic beating continued on. Desperate for it to end, she tried to speak, to tell whomever it was to leave her be, but her tongue was thick and fat in her mouth. Attempting to open her eyes was like hoisting a ship out of water.

After a while, and with great relief, she was able to crack her eyelids a small bit. Blinding, bright, vibrant light pierced her vision. The chaotic rhythm in her head raged on, sharper and harder, the beat of a thundering drum. She forced herself to stare down the light. The brightness began to fade, slowly becoming tolerable, and then less brilliant, and soon it was at a reasonable level which only stung.

Doctor Carlisle stood over her, his voice sounding like the ting of a glass. Clear tension, an anxiety she hadn't seen in a long while, was in the eyes of the King. Doctor Carlisle maintained a more reserved expression, deep in thought, taking in signs of breath and blood.

"Her pallor is more natural," the doctor said as he focused discerning hands on her. "Can you hear?"

She tried to speak but it was of no use. She could nod slowly.

"Ah. Much more responsive than the last few times she woke." He touched fingertips to her mouth, prying open her lips to run his fingers along her gums and teeth. "Water," he said over his shoulder.

The effort to keep her eyes open was too difficult.

Hands shook her awake.

"Not too hard."

Isa's eyes flew open at the King's harsh tone. Sue hovered next to her, a glass in her hand. The King hovered around the foot of the bed, arms crossed, body in motion—pacing.

"Come. Sit. Try to drink." Sue braced one arm behind Isa's back and urged her to sit upright.

The hammering in her head started anew, her vision pulsed and danced. She clenched her eyes shut and pushed against the stiffness. Another arm wrapped around her, easing the way.

The effort needed to sit was draining. She wanted to lie back down and sink into the softness of the bed beneath her. Once upright, she held still for a moment, breathing deep. The moment she noticed whose bed she lay in she wanted to hop up, but the cool rim of a glass pressed to her lips. She drank deep to slake her thirst. The water tasted clean, refreshingly cool, nothing like the water from the fount near the servant's quarters.

"Do you remember what happened?" the King asked, his mouth close to her ear.

While she drank he had seated himself on the edge of the bed. His bed. The overwhelming sense of crossing too many lines stirred, but when she looked to his face she didn't care. He was smiling, bright and genuine.

"Yes . . . I believe," she managed to say as her eyes fell to the crook of his neck. Stubble ran along his jaw, he was in much need of a shave. She thought back to dismounting a red horse, falcons flying overhead, an icy lake. No, that wasn't the right memory. "Perhaps not."

Still smiling, he explained what had happened, giving only the slightest of details.

Yet all Isa focused on was the way his lips moved when he talked and how, the last time she was able to study him so up close, she was in control of the situation. Now, she lay in his bed, sick, and he stood on his feet, talking so quickly she couldn't keep up.

A dazed chill faded as she realized what more had gone on while she lay sick underneath his covers. Poison. There was a boy who stood guard outside the room? But she couldn't remember his name! "Who was he?" Her mouth was dry like sand.

The King met her eyes for a moment before occupying himself with the blanket around her. She didn't have the strength to ask again.

ooo

The hall outside the bedchamber was silent for a time. Several glasses of water throughout the day had finally worked their way through Isa's body. She needed to relieve herself but refused to wait for help from Sue. With a blend of determination to not be waited on, and the need to be away from the King's personal chamber, she dared to pull herself from the bed.

Feet dangling over the edge, she slipped down from the plush bedding until her toes touched the floor. A strange tingling sensation shot along her feet, all throughout her muscles, coursing and surging.

The poison was highly effective, and she had been exposed to such a small amount. No doubt that the men she served in the Strategy Room would have all been dead if she hadn't discovered it by accident. Including the King. And that thought brought sour tears to her eyes; she pretended it was because of the pain she was in.

Sagging against the wall, sweating profusely, body shaking, cold making her shudder. Legs shaking, panting, she eased herself down the wall, to the floor, waiting for it to pass.

"A'dri!" Sue raced into the room, cursing wildly.

"All right. I only need to . . . ." Breathless, Isa wiped her palm across her forehead, coming away with a wet hand. Then she was in the air, being carried to where she needed to go.

When she was on her feet again it was with horrifying embarrassment that she realized the King had carried her. Using his privy chamber while he was there? She found it quite difficult to put him out of her mind.

Then, when she was finished, Sue called him into the room to carry her back.

Exhausted, she was finally placed in the center of the bed without even the strength to cover her legs out of modesty. She lay shaking, her sweat soaking into the cream coverlets. It was incredibly soft. Her body a bit more aware of things could appreciate that much.

The mattress dipped and jiggled, the covers were slowly pulled out from underneath her.

"What . . . ?" was all she had the strength to say when the King rolled her onto her side and nestled himself behind her.

He said nothing as he brought a cool, wet cloth to her forehead. Lips pressed to her hair and lingered there for a moment. If she had the energy she would have pushed him away, but she did not. She could only let him touch and caress the cloth to her sticky skin.

A shudder rippled through her and he nuzzled close. Her eyes drifted closed. She made a note to herself that they would have to talk about this when she woke in the morning. Until that time was to come, she enjoyed the feel of him against her, pretending that they were simpletons in a quaint home, a village far away.

ooo

Other than Sue, Doctor Carlisle, and the King, Isa saw no one. Once her head began to clear and the memory of the other day returned to her, she thought more about the poison and who would have done such a thing. The boy, the one given the station as a guard outside the room, being found guilty of the poison didn't make sense. If he were to attempt to harm anyone then why stay, standing by to only get caught? And hadn't Gruntie, the kitchen supervisor, decided who would guard the storage and who would not? But there was no talk of Gruntie having been taken in and questioned.

But it was too late, things were done. An innocent boy had already paid with his life. Feeble justice was swift in Masen.

"How's Eric?" Isa asked as Sue helped her to the privy chamber.

"He's well, returned home days ago. Apologized for the mess of your clothing."

That made Isa's eyebrows pucker with a bit of sadness. He had gone without saying goodbye? Neverthemind, she brushed it off. She promised she would aide him if possible and she would still do so.

"And Essica and Angel?"

"They're both well."

That was it, all was well? All didn't feel well, though. All felt horribly wrong. This wasn't how things should be. She turned it over and over in her head and each time she came to the same end conclusion: All was well meant that if she had died, no great loss.

If the King had died, the country would have turned in on itself as it had done before upon the death of King Brisbane. The King's death would have had the young girls weeping in the streets, an entire nation lost.

Perhaps Sue was lying and things had fallen apart terribly in Isa's absence. And Isa quickly surmised that no one was affected by the death of the boy, save for Isa. And no one would have been affected by the death of Isa . . . well, save for Essica.

The effort to reason while her head still ached was a poor use of faculties. She needed more rest.

Upon returning to her bed she caught sight of herself in the mirror and, much to her shocked surprise, she wasn't wearing her shift, but a cream-colored woven number with fanciful cording. How long had she been dressed this way? A memory of her mother surfaced: long hair braided over her shoulder, royal emblems decorating her form, wearing a cream and blue cloak on the eve of the Equinox Celebration at Dua Crescent. The memory was so vivid, so clear in Isa's mind, it brought with it a wave of emotion.

Sue touched cool fingers to her hand. "Is something wrong?"

Isa didn't belong in such things—the sensation was intense. "If my clothes are clean I'll have them now." She took in a shuddery breath.

Saying nothing, Sue helped her back to the bed. Isa resisted, wanting only distance from the bed and the lordly things.

"Leave us." The words were presented to Sue with that authoritative tone that only nobles need master.

Dread filled Isa as Sue left and the King entered. There were other matters to discuss, she knew. Was he here to discuss these things now? She was not well enough yet for this conversation. But she couldn't stand the thought of him daring to bring it up and catch her off guard.

"M'Lord, you've been too kind. I am on the mend, now, and I need—"

"No, you do not need to return to your chores." He leaned against the foot of the bed. "I have assigned Sue to you. Someone else will see to your duties."

Isa scowled at her folded hands. "I have no interest in having my superior wait on me, hand and foot."

"Sue is no longer your superior."

"I have no desire to be your courtesan."

"We will discuss that later. You nearly gave your life for me, the least I can do is relieve you of the burden of your station."

Clenching her teeth, Isa glared at the bedding. As she imagined, it wasn't truly an offer, it was a silver-tongued edict. Salting a wound. First, she was plucked from her home. Then, she was forced to heed a lowly station. Now, he decided that she would be something else. Or more so, nothing at all. How many decisions would he make for her?

"I am no longer your servant?"

"Correct."

"And I am not your courtesan?"

"Do you truly not want to be?"

She sighed, contented. "Very well then. Fetch Sue. I would like to bathe . . . please."

He stepped forward, reaching for her hand. She gave it reluctantly. His eyes searched hers, seeming on the edge of a question, curiosity storming inside. Perhaps he was looking for overwhelming joy or gratitude where there was none.

ooo

The first real bath Isa had taken since she had come here to Masen. The water was deep, warm, and soothing. It smelled of rose and peonies. For however many times she had made bars of soap, she had never used one. Not a full bar, anyway. The water would stay warm for several hours, and Isa intended on making use of every one.

She laid her head back against the sculpted edge and draped a warm cloth over her face. Focusing on her body and her mind, she took all her anxiousness, tension, and unease, and shoved it aside. For a short while she would be listless in the water, mind empty.

"Are you still here?" Angel came into the room.

Isa was too far gone in her small inner world to really take note.

"I heard you're no longer one of us. Is it true?"

Isa sighed, her peace evaporating. She peeled the cloth from her face and blinked in the light. "You heard correctly."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"I was thinking about leaving."

Angel was silent for a moment, and then she let out a thunderous laugh so loud it made Isa flinch. "Leaving?"

"I'm no longer his servant. I don't need to stay."

"Is that what he said?"

"In a way."

"Where were you thinking of going?"

Water drizzled from the cup of Isa's hand into the tub, her thoughts distant. "I was thinking of going home."

"Home? Your home is a long way away. It's winter."

Isa wrung the cloth out and draped it over her face again. "Perhaps I'll die on the way there, then."

Fabric rustled and rushed softly. "The King sent these with Sue. I wanted to see how you were so I brought them for you."

Silence hung around for a while.

"Well then," Angel said. "I guess I'll go. Essica was asking about you. Do you want me to send her up when you're done?"

"Up where? Her room's right down the hall from mine."

"No, Isa. The King's given you a new room."

And that made Isa open her eyes wide and look to Angel in disbelief. "What?"

"Right next to his. I don't think I'm supposed to tell you, though. Sorry."

"No, I'm glad you did. He thinks I'm going to live next to him?"

Angel nodded. "I've been there to make the bed. It's beautiful. You'll love it."

With the peace thoroughly destroyed, Isa stood.

"I have no intention of moving into the palace. Don't be facetious."

"Why not?" Angel handed Isa a towel. "If the King were to ask me to be his Lady of the Night I'd jump at the chance."

Done with the conversation, Isa ruffled her hair with the towel before realizing what Angel just said. She knew.

"How did you find out what the King wants from me, anyway?"

"I've read the letter," Angel said, matter-of-fact. "We all did."

ooo

Standing in the doorway to Essica's room, Isa couldn't believe what she had heard. "You think I should say yes?"

Essica nodded, fussing over the contents of a small box. "Not many will have the opportunity to step above their station. And here you are, doing exactly so, and you don't want it."

Isa cursed Angel's name, that nosey little fool. "My station?" she snarked. "Indeed."

"This is your chance, our chance, to reclaim what was taken. Yet you don't have a goal for yourself, no purpose. You, in fact, seem quite content to be merely a servant. It didn't make sense at first but now I know why."

"I don't know what to say to that." Isa's mind was buzzing.

Essica now held a small strip of fabric between her fingers. It danced about as she punctuated her words with her hands. "Angel believes you've come to care for him quite a bit."

"Angel told you I loved the King?"

"She used the term, "infected by affection," but yes."

Isa's frustration with Angel turned into anger at that. Essica crossed the room, took Isa by the shoulders and then spun her around. The trees danced in the wind across the way. The landscape was dreary, gray, and cold.

"I feel no such thing toward him," Isa said after a while.

"Is that why you're still here?"

Isa didn't bother to answer.

"It's all right, Isa. We can make plans together."

"Plans for what? My whoredom?"

Essica bundled Isa's hair and began to string the blue ribbon through it to hold it in place. "You were willing to take on the role of the Fianta. Now, is it that much better to be only a servant? Powerless?"

With a great amount of shame Isa had to admit, "I'm no longer able to be your Fianta."

"Isa," Essica sighed and turned her back around. "Your road is water."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you don't have a choice. You being a Fianta or not isn't for you to decide. Your road is water. You either cross it, or you get swept up in the current."