Chapter 34
If she had to dust in one more bedroom in the entire pox-ridden palace, Ruth thought, she was going to get her revenge by relieving herself in the sheets. It wasn't like they could do anything about it either, was it? Not when she was five months along with the bastard spawn of a dead king and needed to take a piss every five seconds!
She hadn't meant to go and get herself pregnant. She'd been called to Joseph some time ago and he'd declared that it was time for her reward. Then he'd cleared a space on his desk and told her to hoist her skirts and bend over, because the Royal Barge was coming into port.
She'd kept her mind on the gold, which was on the surface in front of her, the whole time.
He'd tossed her the coins as soon as he'd refastened his breeches, of course, and then he'd told her to get out. Then, she'd heard nothing from him, until she was called in for another quick shag (and a few extra coins) two weeks later, when Queen Marie was holding out on giving the king anything other than the cold shoulder.
And that was when it had...happened. But by the time she'd discovered that it'd happened, it was too late to do anything about it. Joseph had said it "wasn't his problem" what she did with it, and had threatened to have her flogged when she'd insisted that he do anything to provide for the little runt he'd created in her.
He'd sent her away after that, brooding and gnashing at her own teeth. It was something she still did, whenever she thought about having to take care of this problem by herself and not even getting so much as a bag full of coins to show for it!
It was the Lord's own work that the fat, syphilitic pig was dead. He deserved it, for leaving her stuck with this mess and intending on just going on with his life, as though he didn't have any responsibility for her current situation.
As though he didn't have gold he owed her.
Still, that didn't help her problem – she was still stuck with the little parasite inside of her. She was sure even the most unscrupulous of backstreet abortionists wouldn't want to touch her problem at this late stage, either, and she wasn't such a fool that she'd throw herself down the stairs to get rid of it personally.
This knowledge made her feel even more annoyed and ready to explode every day. And as such, whichever poncey noble bitch found the surprise was going to have it coming, and Ruth might get some satisfaction over the fact that everything else was all so fucking difficult all of a sudden.
She took a paused moment in her dusting to glare hatefully down at her belly; huge, bloated and ugly to look at. Just like the Babcock girl had to have been by now, if she was still knocking around somewhere.
If looks had been able to kill, Ruth knew she wouldn't have been a mother any more at that moment. Why did she have to have...this? It wasn't as though the thing's so-called father would ever so much as look at it, or hand over even a measly sum to keep her quiet. And the king hadn't so much as glanced in her direction, either – not even with that Babcock slut out of the way!
But why would he, she supposed bitterly, when she was so...hideous?! Her stomach entered a room half a minute before the rest of her did, for God's sake!
Well, that hadn't exactly mattered when it was his own personal whore he was lavishing attention on, but apparently it must have done when it was any other available warm body who might have been ready and waiting. If he'd ever so much as looked up to check if there was anybody waiting to jump into his bed, that was!
How could he want some fat cow of a woman, falling and fawning all over her like she was the most sublime and adorable creature on Earth, and then act as though another, more beautiful woman who also happened to be round, did not even exist?!
She knew she'd go back to being the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, too, and get what she deserved as soon as he snapped out of the stupid little trance he was in and started paying attention to what was important.
The maid really didn't understand it. Why did he insist so much that the slut had to be found? He never stopped to think about anything else – not food, or wine, or women, even though he could have had his fill of all three for every day that she'd been gone. The bitch was stopping him from taking his rights as both a king and a man, even when she wasn't there!
He was ignoring everything else, too, even if Ruth didn't particularly care about that. The memory of the slut he'd insisted everybody would one day recognise as his "one and only" (even if that would obviously never be the truth) took front and centre stage compared to affairs of state.
It would be better if she never turned up, dead or alive. The Babcock bitch and whatever little lowborn filth she spawned could disappear forever, as far as Ruth was concerned.
It enraged her to think she'd been wrong, when she'd imagined that the king would immediately jump out of trying to make eyes at that whore as soon as she was out of sight. Telling his father may have gotten the Babcock girl out of the picture, but that picture was, unfortunately, still in the king's mind.
As soon as this mewling pound of flesh fell out of her, Ruth would make sure to wipe that image from his head permanently.
That, she concluded as she finally finished dusting the bloody room, was a much happier thought to have in mind. It wasn't like she had too many things to be happy about or look forward to, anyway. Quite the opposite, really...
She glared down at her pregnant stomach – a new mouth to feed, she thought to herself, and all on her meagre income. An income that she'd almost lost, mind you. She'd come within a hair's breadth of being fired, back when her superiors had found out about the baby, but upon some pleading on her part and promising she'd continue to work until the very moment the kid popped out, she'd saved herself from being kicked to the curb.
She only hoped the child was a boy – the little runt could be started in service in only a few years, but if she was unlucky enough to birth a girl, then Ruth thought she might as well abandon her on some dingy church doorstep. Maybe even sell her to one of the other maids; those who either wanted another kid (God knows why) or couldn't have children of their own.
The possibility of keeping a girl was absolutely out of the question – she'd be both a nuisance and a burden, and it would be years before she could sell her to men, in order to bring a few extra pennies at the end of the day.
"Oi, settle down in there!" she barked at her belly, just as the growing child moved in her. "You horrible pain in the arse!"
As if the little urchin was rebelling already, she felt a dull but hard jab in her insides, making her jolt and flinch and grunt in discomfort.
It also resulted in her nearly dropping the duster she'd been using, and that had been the final straw in her mind.
"Why, you––!" she nearly raised her arm to strike out at her own stomach, but remembered she'd only really be hurting herself at the last moment and lowered it again. She then pointed one warning finger at the point where she had been kicked. "You'll pay for that, as soon as I can get my hands on you!"
That seemed to shut it up for the time being, as best she could manage. That meant that she could at least try to finish tidying up the room, before moving onto the next one...
And the next...and the next, in an endless pattern that she was angrily doomed to repeat, for the rest of her days. All while being held back from doing anything fun or useful to her while she had this little bastard around her.
Of course, her back started its usual routine of aching through the work (with so many rooms still left untouched!), too, just seemed like the last nail in the coffin of anything she could possibly enjoy or feel comfortable about in her life.
Her only remaining consolation was that even if she was confined to this life, with the prospect of dragging a burden and a waste of space around for as long as it took them to either learn to muck out a stable or take a roll in the hay, she had it better than that Babcock slut. Nobody had taken her away, or called her out for being a whore, and she was going to get back in the new king's good books – and his bed – sooner or later.
Ruth grinned. She could see the little bitch now – screaming and crying, begging and pleading for it all to stop, end, finish in whatever way was quickest, as her own little bastard was taken away...
She could've avoided it all, had she known her place and simply understood that Ruth had had the king first. And she was the best he'd ever had, too.
That made her more important, no matter what any so-called "marriage" said! She knew everything the king liked, all the ways that could possibly please him and she had never once gotten it wrong. That little bitch he'd made pregnant hadn't ever so much as looked at a man before His Majesty had turned his eyes on her – how could she possibly do anything to truly please him, or know what he liked without doing it badly?
It had probably only ever made him bored, on most occasions. And, quite frankly, the more bored he'd been in bed with her, the better.
That meant he'd invite Ruth back all the sooner...
A sudden blast of loud fanfare echoing around the palace, coming from the open window, interrupted her (very pleasing) thoughts. She knew immediately who it was, of course – the king would have returned from whatever official business he had been away on, and he'd get back to his work from home for a little longer.
Ruth pursed her lips thoughtfully. The king had been gone for about a week now – was it too much to think that maybe he'd had a girl or two in that time? Maybe more? He'd once bragged aloud within her earshot that he'd had four in four different places in under a day, so it was not beyond his capabilities.
Perhaps he'd moved on from this nonsense about his pregnant whore and had returned to behaving as he should?
She hoped so. She knew those two-a-bit brothel birds weren't up to scratch; she's heard so from plenty of guards and stewards who preferred coming to (and on and in) her. And she knew the Babcock slut had been a virgin before – she'd know nothing about pleasing a man and would have bored him senseless in no time at all.
The king would be aching for the real deal by now. She could feel it. All she had to do was see the look on his face to get it confirmed.
The carriage had pulled up by the time she made it to the window (cursing her belly and the child inside it under her breath), but she immediately caught sight of the man she had been hoping to see.
King Niles, in all his...strangely joyful-looking glory...as he extended his hand back into the carriage doorway, and placing it underneath the elbow of...
Of...
Ruth wasn't sure if the scream of rage she felt at the sight and understanding was just in her head or if it was actually leaving her mouth. She didn't really care, either.
How could she, when she could clearly see that Babcock whore getting ready to climb out of the carriage, the king supporting her from beneath?! And the only reason she was currently having trouble getting out by herself was because her arms were full – full with not one, but two little disgusting bundles!
She'd somehow lived, and so had the little brat she'd been carrying. No, the two little brats that she'd carried! The two that should have been dead and buried in some shallow grave with their mother right at that moment, while she showed their father what a real good time looked like!
How the hell had that slut survived, not only the treatment she'd deserved as a prisoner, but also pushing those two royal bastard brats out of her own miserable excuse for a womanhood?! Why did she get to birth two of the king's children and live, while Ruth couldn't even get him to stay inside her long enough to finish?!
Not that she envied the whore having to shove those two little mongrel pups out – just the fact that she was getting this special treatment, despite the fact that she'd never be worthy of it!
She wasn't worthy of her life, and yet somehow she'd been given it back. And Ruth suddenly felt a surge of anger unlike any she'd ever had before, as she hurled the feather duster she'd been using at the window, directly at the happy little family that she knew never should have existed. Unfortunately for her anger, the feathered side hit the glass, causing it to bounce off without leaving a mark and landing on the floor with a clatter.
"Well, that's bloody fantastic, isn't it?!" she huffed, glaring down at the duster she knew she'd somehow have to pick up.
That in itself was easier said than done, in her current state. Bending over with ease was one of the many things her pregnancy had taken away from her, and it had brought with it some very unpleasant little features: water retention, mood-swings and swelling.
Life truly wasn't fair. She knew that as definitely as she knew she'd sooner cut out her own womb than go through any of this again. At least she knew, right in that moment when her rival had returned, that it couldn't possibly get any wo–
Slam!
The door to the bedroom burst open, revealing Annie, one of the younger maids who had only recently joined service and therefore still retained her idiotic enthusiasm (no princes or kings had fucked that out of her yet). Her eyes were shining and her mouth stretched into a wide grin, which was obviously aching to burst with an unnatural and unnecessary squeal.
Ruth held back the urge to roll her eyes at the pathetic specimen in front of her, "Is there a reason for this intrusion on my work?"
"Forget about that for now!" Annie cried out, before seemingly remembering her place and ceasing to hop all over the place like an agitated rabbit. She coughed awkwardly. "Oh! Uh, forgive me, I got...overexcited. It's just that Her Majesty has been found and is home, at last!"
Ruth turned a dark look towards the window, "I saw. But it affects me how...?"
Annie jumped again, in optimistic realisation and duty this time, "Oh, yes! His Majesty has ordered us to come down and greet her, and to declare our loyalty with bows and curtsies!"
There was a silence after that, only pierced by the increasingly loud and fast breathing coming from Ruth. Had she heard it right? She couldn't have, could she? This stupid little girl, who had only been saved from some filthy sheets and all the men a brothel would take by sheer luck, couldn't have told her that the king expected them to be loyal to his slut!
"What did you say...?" Ruth whispered dangerously.
Annie didn't have a clue, and actually gestured urgently to the door, "We have to go down to Their Majesties now! They will be expecting us all, with bows and curtsies. Like I said."
Had the maid still not picked the duster up from the floor, she would have chucked it straight at the little fool's head.
Bow?! Curtsy?! Who did any of them think they were, to expect her to declare herself lower than a whore?! In front of everybody, as though it were right, or just, or fair! How could they get away with something so insolent, so abhorrent? She'd sooner die than willingly bend any part of her body to that slut, or the bastard children she had given birth to!
And the king...
There was once a time where she'd have gladly bent over before him, but now...
Well, suffice to say she didn't bow to foolish, lily-livered idiots. The king currently fit all categories.
But what choice did she have? It wasn't like she could refuse direct orders, and she couldn't use her pregnancy as an excuse to have a lie down. Common, down-to-earth people didn't have that privilege, unlike some very lucky whores that had managed to dig their claws into foolish men's hearts. She had to obey, whether she liked it or not.
"Fine then," she said and dusted herself off. "Where are we supposed to go?"
"The Great Hall," Annie replied. "Everybody is on their way as we speak."
As much as Ruth would have liked to reply that everybody was a dolt and could throw themselves in a ditch for His Majesty the Fucker and Her Majesty the Slut to walk on, she knew she couldn't. If she didn't go, it would stand out, and then there would be consequences.
There would also most likely be consequences for the names she'd called the king and his whore in her head, as Annie would probably be empty-headed enough to go around telling everybody. It would take the threat of death to shut that girl up, but even then, Ruth didn't think it would hold for long.
Then she'd have to get running, if she didn't want to be in for it more than Annie would already be. They needed to get moving as it was, so she started her long, lumbering march towards the stairs.
"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" she didn't even hold back from snapping that time, pushing past Annie as much as she could take a detour to achieve. "Let's get down there before we're missed!"
She eventually left the room, not stopping to look back and see if the girl was following her. She didn't have to – Annie soon overtook her in some sort of self-proclaimed race. She'd always make it there before Ruth did, given that she wasn't carrying the bastard spawn of anybody.
Yet, anyway. Ruth could already predict that some young buck who spent more time in front of a mirror than the ladies-in-waiting, would have his way with her within the year. That could mean she'd end up stuck with a little creature of her own. If not, it would be the next one, or the next...
She'd be ruined eventually. They all were.
And she herself thought she'd be ruined in a completely different sense, if she didn't go carefully enough down the stairs! The only spark of bright outlook she could take from it was that concentrating on not falling and breaking her back kept Annie's inane chatter from invading her mind.
She let the girl get far enough ahead to not be heard, when they eventually reached the ground floor. It was going to be bad enough having to see the slut in clothes she didn't deserve, carrying two children who should've been no more than seed spilled onto skin or dripped onto bedsheets or the floor...
It was going to be Hell, seeing that creature just dance into a life that Ruth had spent her entire existence trying to get.
It definitely was Hell, when she made it through the doors and saw the servants gathering there, somehow crowding around but also trying to keep a "respectful" distance all at once. Not that Ruth knew why they were bothering. It wasn't as though a whore was entitled to respect. Or reverence. Or adoration. And yet, the more the maid looked and saw, the more she realised that was exactly what the others were giving her, even by standing excitedly in her presence!
Her seated presence (the cow had clearly demanded to be sat, even though she had no right to call herself tired), with those two awful little bastards clutched to her torso as though someone would snatch them from her at any moment. Ruth wished someone would – take them right from her arms and throw them into the palace well. Perhaps they'd vomit their last feed over her golden dress, too, and as she rose from the shock and horror of it all, that unlawful crown upon her head would fall to the floor with a clatter and roll upon it...
Then everybody would see past the "magnificence". The beauty and luxury that the bitch had stolen from her.
The others murmured apologetically as Ruth made her way through the crowd, which kept on jostling her in their own enthusiasm. A feeling the maid did not share in the slightest, of course. She just wanted the best vantage point possible, because if she had to be there, then it was only her right, wasn't it? She was carrying the previous king's bastard, after all, so that had to mean something.
Especially seeing as the other woman around with two bastards got to sit down, be fawned upon, and treated like she was pure gold when in reality, she was no higher than the dirt. She should've been in the dirt by now, Ruth thought bitterly as she finally found an elbow-free space in the crowd. Said space seemed to grow twice as large when she turned up, but she ignored that. It was better to not have to be surrounded by idiots, anyway.
Speaking of which, it wasn't long before she turned her hateful glare towards the king himself. He was also sat, looking like a cat who'd eaten all the mice in the pantry and had just been told he got to enjoy the cream as well. That fat cat would probably go back to enjoying the mice again, once he realised he was done with the cream.
And Ruth knew she could be there in a heartbeat, looking like the most succulent mouse of all. She thought she might even get a few more things out of him – perhaps a title, or a yearly payment – for birthing his little brother or sister. Again, it had to mean something, didn't it? There was no way the little runt could be completely useless.
But that would all have to wait. For now, she had to stand and scowl as the king clearly leaned over to speak to his undeserving whore. All of Ruth's days spent eavesdropping had meant so much practice that she could single out individual conversations if she had to. It was just unfortunate that she could hear it all, in this case.
The most nauseating things were coming from the king's lips.
"Are you sure you are quite alright, darling? You don't need another cushion for your back, or for me to hold one of the little ones? We are going to be here a while..."
Of course they would be! That idiot was going to have all of them kiss the slut's arse, over and over, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Ruth couldn't believe she was saying this, but she missed the days when the Prince was nothing but a self-serving cad. Back then she could at least make a few extra coins out of him, and she didn't have a parasite growing in her womb.
She had another royal bastard to thank for the latter, but given that the late king was no more, Ruth was more than willing to direct all her hatred towards the royal couple – the fool and the slut, as she'd dubbed them. Still, for the life of her she couldn't comprehend what was so special about the Babcock bitch – her cunt had to be something else for King Niles, no less, to decide to tie the bloody knot.
Not that she'd admit it to anyone (let alone to the king himself) but she was a few years older than he was, and she still remembered the young prince he'd once been: a witty and ruggedly handsome young lad, who had cared little for rules and ignored propriety whenever it suited him best. That's why Ruth had gravitated towards him – he was easy prey. Men like that only need a little nudge here and there and some ego-stroking for them to do as she pleased. She'd believed herself the one woman who'd had him eating from the palm of her hand…
Clearly, she'd been wrong. And she burned with envy for not having manipulated that bastard like the Babcock bitch had. The sly little serpent had had more tricks up her sleeve than she'd cared to share.
She must have buried her true intentions very deeply indeed, to slip by unnoticed for so long. It was surprising that someone of her skill in the art of charm had waited so long to act on her plan. But perhaps that had been part of the plan as well? To look as though she'd had no interest and would never give up the chase, simply to make herself into an unobtainable prize that the king couldn't help but want?
She didn't know. She couldn't say.
But it certainly looked as though even Ruth had failed to see the slut for what she was, or how well she had been doing it. But that didn't really make much sense; the maid took great pride in her ability to judge other people. Character, in particular. Not that there seemed to be any other option – the whore and the king couldn't have truly been in love. Love was nothing more than a fairytale pushed onto people who hadn't yet seen the ugly truth. Everybody learned it, in the end – some just learned it sooner than others.
And it might have been ugly, but that didn't make it any less necessary to tell. Love simply didn't exist.
Ruth knew it for a fact; she didn't have to be told – she'd never felt it once in her life, so it couldn't be real, could it? Love didn't exist beyond men telling women the word so they could play on their fantasies to get them into bed, or so women could get free trinkets from fools, or for parents to trick their children into not hating them.
The former two former had worked for a time, until the bitch she was glaring at had muscled her way into the front of the queue, when it came to the prince's favourite bed warmers.
And the whore was still smiling, all sickly and warm like honey that had been in a pot over the fire, up at the man she was sharing this delusion with.
"No, darling – I'm quite alright, thank you. It's more than enough just to be sat comfortably at all...!"
It picked away at the maid to not know how they could both be so taken in by a disgusting lie that did nothing to benefit either of them. No one was gaining more than the other – it was almost as though the entire thing was at a stalemate!
But she had to stop listening, before the entire dialogue between them made her throw up on the person in front. Of course, she could use being pregnant as an excuse to "let out her feelings" wherever she needed (or wanted), but at this point, she thought she'd rather just get the whole affair over and done with. She didn't want it stopping for any reason, and becoming the centre of that kind of attention was the last thing she currently needed.
She might've been safe in King Joseph's court as long as she made room for two orbs and a sceptre, but this wasn't his court anymore. This was a new court with new rules and new players, and Ruth had yet to find her place. She'd once been the preferred whore of the English nobility; it was only a matter of time before she was back on top (both literally and figuratively).
It was frustrating that she was back to square one with the king thanks to his bitch of a wife, but she'd climb her way up eventually. She knew the king – it was only a matter of time before his urges overtook him, and she knew just how to whet his insatiable appetite for women.
It was a few more minutes until the last of the palace inhabitants had arrived at the Great Hall, but eventually everyone was there and the doors were closed. Ruth silently thanked the Heavens – she couldn't really be on her feet for long, and she was already longing for this to be over and done with so she could go and have a lie down while pretending to dust one of the countless guest rooms. She'd done it a few times before, and honestly those beds were something else! Nothing like the rickety cots the servants had to make do with.
Ruth sometimes wondered if those noble arseholes knew just how good they had it. How utterly privileged they were. And all because someone at some point had licked enough royal bottoms to warrant a title and some land. What made them better than the rest of the mortals? She wasn't a good person, by any means, nor she wished to be one, but neither were most of the men she slept with. They had the same rotten moral compass as her, and yet they got to sit at the table with la crème de la crème and be waited after by a slew of poor devils who tripped over themselves to please masters who couldn't care less about them. It was ridiculous, all of it. The pomp, the circumstance, the idiotic notion of social superiority just because a person just happened to have popped out of a noble vagina…
The whole system could just go rot. Or burn – God knows she'd like to see that! So she was going to lie, cheat and swindle; abuse and fool the system as many times as she bloody could without feeling an ounce of regret or guilt. She'd put the middle finger up at every single one of them, over and over, until she was no more.
To Hell with the consequences.
Now, if this latest display of arrogance and stupidity could be over, she'd be in a better mood. Everybody had filed in, obediently and like good little children, so now it had to be time for their oh-so-noble king to stop making eyes at the slut he'd fucked in the dirt before lifting her out of it, and get on with telling them all why they were here.
It wasn't so much that he didn't disappoint, when he came forward to speak; it was more that Ruth's patience had been wearing so thin that all she could to was hold back a groan and the word "finally".
King Niles seemed to study each one of them – that he could see, anyway – carefully. He looked like he was trying to scrutinise them, for some reason, before he finally addressed them.
"Ladies, gentlemen, friends of all ranks within this household – I bid you welcome, on this most joyous and happy of days. My beloved wife, your queen, has been found miraculously alive, and has been returned to the palace, to rule by my side."
Ruth rolled her eyes when everybody else started to applaud and cheer. Did they even know who, or what they were cheering for? Some little slut who had pulled some sort of strange wool over the king's eyes, and had tricked him into filling her with enough seed to create those two bastards she now held in her arms!
And he was continuing as though there was nothing wrong in the world.
"As part of that miracle, and as a testament to her strength, she has fought through a terrifying ordeal to give birth to our two children. Your new prince and crown princess – William Andrew Stewart and Charlotte Marie Beatrice, respectively."
Crown Princess. Ruth had forgotten about that little detail – the royal donkey had changed the succession law, probably to please his whore. As much as she would love to be a royal and do nothing all day long, she wouldn't want to be in that runt's shoes. She'd much rather be an accessory to a powerful man than wield power herself, for power entailed responsibility and hard work. That kid would have to deal with Parliament and all the burdensome tasks of reigning a land – hardly something to be envied.
"From this point onwards," continued the Royal Ass, "your allegiance to me translates into your allegiance to my wife, as the new mistress of the house and queen of this nation."
Fat chance, Ruth thought to herself. If he expected her to serve, respect and pledge loyalty to his favourite slut, then he was going to be disappointed. The most she'd do for that bitch (if she was having a good day) was not spit in her drink when she served her afternoon tea.
In an ideal world, she'd be allowed to watch each time for the moment the Royal Slut was about to take a sip, and then she'd describe – in graphic detail – everything that His Idiocy had done to Ruth. Every part, position and things he'd cried out while he'd done them.
She'd get to watch as the bitch spat it out, spraying tea down herself and maybe even dropping the cup in her lap. Or on the expensive rug beneath her feet. Either way, it would be utterly delightful to see the whore humiliated and hurt by it. And Ruth had plenty of stories to tell...
But before she could get comfortable day dreaming about telling the slut any of them, something the idiot said made her prick up her ears and pay attention to the conversation again.
"Those who kidnapped my wife are traitors to this nation and shall be punished accordingly," he said, eyes piercing the entire room at once. "As will those who aided and abetted them. One person of which, I know for a fact, works in this very palace."
Gasps echoes around the room immediately, followed by a mixture of worried and excited chatter. It was immediately silenced when the king raised a hand and spoke again.
"It was this person who gave my wife, your queen, away to my father. It was this person who allowed her to be found and kidnapped, which in turn threatened to end the royal bloodline, had my wife and our children never been found," he lowered his hand, curling it into a light fist at his side. "And I fully intend to find out who this person is. If anyone present has information regarding this person, I invite them to come to me personally. If you have information and do not, then you will be treated exactly the same as all those who have betrayed us over these last dark days."
The chatter came back again almost immediately, panicked and slightly angry-sounding. Like bees that thought their hive was being threatened.
But Ruth didn't join in. Not even to scoff or roll her eyes. In fact, she was practically frozen to the spot, and had only just been able to move to check that she had neither gone into extremely early labour nor pissed herself in the middle of the room.
Traitors. Punished. Information. How was she supposed to hide from any of that?! If she tried to run, they'd catch her right away – it would be so obvious it was her if she attempted to pack up and leave, and the guards would have her arrested before she'd even finished putting her things in a basket to take with her!
She was stuck. Caught like a rabbit in a snare, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She'd have to lie low from now onwards – probably until her child was born. The birth would give her the perfect excuse to walk away from the palace; after all, who would suspect a young new mother? Needing a break after delivering a child was something women did, so why would she be any different?
That would be her cover.
She'd be without a job and without shelter, but running away would be better than being sentenced to death. Everybody knew traitors' deaths were never fast – they were dragged out and painful, and Ruth didn't wish to suffer the same fate as any of them. The runt she'd give birth to would have to be disposed of (she had herself to feed first, before thinking about feeding a second mouth), but until that moment came she had to play the part of a happy expectant mother.
One that absolutely didn't regret having a bloody parasite growing inside her…
"Now," the king said, the Hall reverberating to the sound of his powerful voice. "All of you will come forward, bow to your queen and, afterwards, you'll be dismissed."
Immediately, the servants all began to organise themselves into some form of system that would get them in front of the slut. Ruth found herself jostled again as she was placed directly in the middle of the line, rolling her eyes when no one was looking at the state of it all.
They had to be moving fast to get the Hell out of there, didn't they? They couldn't actually be looking forward to pledging their allegiance to the king's whore...! She certainly wasn't, even as the queue in front of her got shorter and shorter...
Until she was finally called up.
And the moment Niles saw that it was her turn, his eyes watched like a hawk. Scrutinising, speculating, suspicious at all times – why would he not be, when that awful cow of a woman had proven herself to be nothing but a liar and a thief?
She was more than that, too, if the size and roundness of her stomach was anything to go by. It must have been a very long time since he'd seen her wandering anywhere near him while he had been in the palace – he didn't remember her being so pregnant she had to waddle herself up the way towards the throne where his wife was sat!
She could barely curtsy before her queen, when the time came. If she was truly trying, that was. It was plain as day that she had never forgiven him for dismissing her, once she had stolen C.C.'s bracelet, and it was clear to a man with no eyes that she hated his wife with every fibre of her being.
She held a grudge, that was for certain.
It didn't really surprise him to see her so pregnant, either, what with her...reputation...but it did make him wonder.
Wonder so much, that when Ruth had turned to leave (making her way moodily through the crowd at the back), he called over one of the other, younger maids who had already sworn her loyalty. The girl (Annie, he'd learned was her name) was practically a squirrel – small and fast, with enough vocabulary in her lungs to fill an entire library several times over.
"Your Majesty! It is an honour, truly, and...well, what can I do for you...?!"
Niles immediately hushed the girl, not keen to have his plan ruined by a new maid who clearly got overexcited easily. As long as she could carry the task out, that was all that mattered.
Besides, she was so young, he hardly thought Ruth would even notice.
"I wish for you to keep an eye on her," he told her, indicating clearly to Ruth so she couldn't be mistaken. "Do not let her realise you are watching what she does. If she says anything, or does anything suspicious, you are to report it to me immediately. No exceptions."
After he had confirmed once more that the girl had understood (and it was hard, considering her excitable chatter had returned to how it had been before, at first), he was satisfied. Annie seemed ready for it, too, dashing off to tail her mark.
Meanwhile, he returned to watching the procession. It didn't take long for him to turn a loving smile on his wife again. Soon to see the traitor who had sold her down the river meet a not-so-swift end.
If his gut instincts were correct, that was.
And if the one enemy he knew for sure C.C. had in the palace tripped, or slipped up, and exposed herself for all the residents to see.