And for what? So the king can show all these people that our family is the richest in all the realm? Everyone already knows. Kumulus is the largest of the five kingdoms and sits in the dead center of all the others, giving us easy access to trade from everywhere. There is no need for such petty boasting.
Boris leads me into one of the alcoves lining the far side of the room. The masked servant posted there hurries past to afford us some privacy.
“Are you trying to make me look like a fool? Like I cannot control my own brother?” Boris snarls low enough that only I can hear. His gaze sweeps from my ancient boots that are, admittedly, a little too small, to my unbuttoned collar. “You look like a bloody beggar.” He opens his mouth to say more, but then the minister from Nimbiss decides to join us. I’m so happy for the interruption, I could kiss the man’s balding head.
“Pardon the intrusion, sire,” the minister says, giving me a pointed look down his beak-like nose, “but I was hoping to have a word with Prince Senan before I retire.”
The king gives the man a curt nod. “Of course, Minister Donnell. He is all yours.” Boris throws me a final warning glare before stalking out of the alcove.
I turn and offer the newcomer my undivided attention, even though his beady little brown eyes are quite distracting. “Minister Donnell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I stick out my hand, determined to be friendly despite the man’s scowl.
The minister glowers at my hand. “We met when you were in Nimbiss.”
Did we meet in Nimbiss? Surely I’d remember those teeny-tiny eyes. “Again, I mean. A pleasure to meet youagain.”
He doesn’t seem swayed by my lie. No matter. I don’t give a shit what he thinks of me. As a matter of fact, the more he disapproves, the better.
His gaze seems to snag on the jam stain across my ribs. “Are your laundresses on strike, Prince Senan?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Is that what you wished to discuss? Our laundry?”
The man’s wispy eyebrows arch. “Why would I want to discuss your laundry?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who brought it up.”
A deep red flush creeps up Minister Donnell’s jowly jaw. “I have never experienced such insolence. When our princess arrives tomorrow, it would beinadvisablefor you to greet her in such a sorry state and with such poor manners.”
“I shall endeavor to remember that, Minister Donald.”
“It’s Donnell.”
“Right. Of course. My apologies. If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.” If the man calls me back, I don’t hear. I’m too busy celebrating tonight’s victory.
One way or another, I will get out of this marriage.
The princess of Nimbiss deserves someone who can care for her, love her even.
I am not that man.
And I’m determined to do whatever it takes to save us both.
Seventeen
ALLETTE
Shadows still consumethe darkened walls as I don my worn boots and tie the laces with frigid fingers. Downstairs, I use my last two coppers earned during my shift at the factory on salty ham, runny eggs, and a glass of orange juice.
Stepping out into the persistent mist, my heart sinks when I realize this is the best I’ll feel all day. After hours of stirring a boiling hot vat of dye filled with cloth, my arms will be limp as wet noodles and my feet will be swollen. Don’t even get me started on my back. In one day, the posture Aunt Marjory drilled into me has gone to pot. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. The black stain on my fingers doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the blisters and splinters from the stick I use to stir for hours on end.
I worked hard in the human realm, but not like this. And for only a fraction of the wages.
My boots slip on the sludge-coated cobblestones, but I manage not to fall and ruin my dress. Not that there is much to ruin when the hem is already stained with mud. As I weave through men in caps, women pushing prams, and Tuath browsing shops, I notice a crowd near the market.
Although there isn’t much time to spare, curiosity gets the better of me, and I wedge myself between two women to see what’s caught everyone’s attention.
A line of Tuath stretches from the bakery, down the street, all the way to the bronze statue of King Taranis and beyond.
“What is the line for?” I ask no one in particular.