by Amber Jaeger
“Across the hall then,” he said sharply, shooing her away. The servant rolled her eyes and motioned for Katiyana to follow her.
The young woman stopped as soon as they were out of the doors and turned to look her up and down. “My king seems quite taken with you,” she fished.
“Me?” Katiyana squeaked. “No, he just thinks I can help him with get rid of the queen.”
“And how would you be able to do that?”
“I have no idea.”
Alma said nothing, just eyed her a moment longer before turning to lead her up the stairs. She opened the door across from the kings and ushered Katiyana in. “This is not the nicest room we have, I do not know why he wanted you in here. I have not even had the time to open it up.”
Katiyana stood in awe as Alma rushed about opening the windows and pulling sheets from the furniture. The room was larger than the entire hut she had lived in with the girls in the forest. The fireplace, faced with glazed tiles, was large enough she could have fit her whole mat in it. The bed and dressers had all been carved from a honey colored wood that complimented the sandstone walls and were polished to a high shine.
Alma opened a small door and ducked in. Katiyana followed curiously when she heard the running of water. “I thought you might like a bath.”
The idea of being naked and vulnerable in an unknown place had her shaking her head before Alma could even finish the sentence. The servant took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face a tall mirror. “I think perhaps you should,” she said gently.
Katiyana flushed as she looked at her reflection. Her face was dirt smudged and her hair was a wild tangle. Her clothes showed grime and wear and tear. “I do not have anything to change into,” she said reluctantly.
“I think I can find something suitable.”
“No dresses.”
Alma raised an eyebrow. “I am not sure where you have come from, but it is most typical for ladies in this region to wear dresses.”
“Well,” Katiyana said firmly, “I am not a lady and I do not wear dresses. They get in the way.”
“Of what?”
“Running, jumping, climbing, everything really.”
“I see,” Alma said quietly. “I will see what I can find while you clean up.” She flipped the taps on the now full tub and pulled a cake of soap off the shelf along with several towels and a comb. Katiyana took them reluctantly and waited for the outer door to close before she stripped off her dirty clothes. She glanced in the mirror again and winced. Her alabaster skin was nearly blinding and she had to be careful not to burn in the hot sun. Scrapes and scars marred her hands and arms and legs and her nails were worn down to their nubs. Even her feet were ugly. Summers she went without shoes and in winter she grudgingly shoved them into her boots. “No,” she said to her reflection, “definitely not a lady.”
Katiyana slipped into the tub up to her neck and gave a happy sigh. Bathing in the hut had consisted of heating ridiculous amounts of water to fill a tiny tub she had to crouch in. And while Adora was adept at making soaps that looked pretty and smelled nice, they never really seemed to make her truly clean.
She lathered and rinsed and then laid back, enjoying the warmth until it was gone. Wrapped in a towel almost bigger than she was, she plodded back into the main room to find Alma arranging an outfit on the bed.
“What is that?” Katiyana asked warily.
“It’s perfect! I found it stuffed away in the attics.”
“It has skirts,” Katiyana said pointedly.
“They’re riding skirts,” Alma amended, lifting the fabric. “See? They are divided and have pants underneath.”
“Why would I wear a skirt over pants?” she asked, dropping her towel.
Alma quickly turned her back. “So that you will look more like a lady,” she said over her shoulder.
The sage green fabric was soft under her fingers and Katiyana thought back to the last time she had worn such nice clothes. “What are all these other things?”
“Undergarments and a blouse to go under the jacket.”
Katiyana looked at the silky things doubtfully before shrugging and pulling them on. “How does this one work?” she asked, holding up the tiny, wired shirt.
“Turn around, I will help you.”
Katiyana obliged then yelped as Alma fastened it. “It is uncomfortable, I do not like it.”
“You cannot prance around without a brassiere,” Alma said firmly, handing her the white blouse. “You are having dinner with the king and his guests, you must be presentable.”
“I can eat in the kitchen.”
“The kitchen is not for eating in. And the king requested your presence, although it is not really a request.”
Katiyana fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons for a moment before giving up. Alma shook her head and stepped in to help. “Really, where did you come from that you do not know how to dress properly?”
She bit her mouth into a firm line and Alma just sighed again. “There, now the trousers.”
Katiyana slid them on and was pleased with the perfect fit. The jacket was also fitted and she didn’t like the way it restricted her arms but it had a lot of pockets to hide things in.
The skirt stayed on the bed. “I am not wearing that.”
Alma squeezed her eyes shut. “Please?”
“No.”
“Fine,” the servant snapped. “If you will excuse me, I have to go argue with the king about his outfit.” She stalked over to the door but before leaving said, “And do something with your hair!”
The brush was lying innocently on the mirrored table but Katiyana approached it like she would a wild animal. Normally Adora had combed and braided her long hair for her. She had been tempted many times over the years to just cut it off but Adora had always pleaded and won.
The combing wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be but the braiding was impossible. Finally she just flipped the wet strands over her shoulder and sat on the bed to wait. A knock interrupted her wandering thoughts and she got up to answer it.
Lian stood on the other side with a strained look on his face. Alma stood behind him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, fuming. “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked.
“Neither one of you are,” Alma said sharply. “I cannot understand why you two refuse to dress properly.”
Lian scoffed. “I have on the clothes you picked out.”
She lifted the jacket she held tightly in her hand. “Not all of them.”
“Woman, I told you, I hate those things, they are too tight around my shoulders.”
“I agree,” Katiyana said thankfully, slipping her own jacket off.
Lian’s eyes widened. “You cannot wear that to dinner.”
Katiyana lifted her chin. “I can wear whatever I want.”
“It would be indecent for a woman to appear at a formal dinner in just a blouse and pants, of all things. Why does she not have a gown on?” he asked Alma. “Surely there is something in the castle to fit her.”
“She will not wear one. I brought her a riding outfit and she refuses to put on the skirt.”
The king rubbed a hand over his eyes. “A gown would be best but I suppose a riding outfit will do.” He fixed his eyes on Katiyana. “I realize you have obviously been out of society for a long while but please trust me, you will want to dress properly for your own reputation.”
“You are not wearing a jacket. I remember enough of society to know a man not wearing a jacket to dinner is distasteful.”
“Fine,” he said through gritted. “I will wear my jacket if you wear your skirts.”
Alma made a pleading face behind the king and Katiyana groaned. “Fine, I will be out in a moment.”
The skirt was just as bad as she thought it would be. The waist was tight, the length was in danger of tripping her and bulk of the fabric was obnoxious and cumbersome. Finally she gave up trying to make it feel better and opened the door again. The king looked just as unhappy in
his jacket but Alma was beaming. “You look very handsome,” Alma was saying, straightening his lapels.
Katiyana began to wonder just how close the two of them were.
Declared presentable, Lian extended his arm for Katiyana to take and she looked at him blankly. “I am not some simpering consort that is going to hang off your arm,” she told him and took off down the stairs. She could hear Alma’s exasperated sigh.
Lian caught up with her and put a hand out. “We need to talk. People will wonder who you are and why you are here. We will tell them you are visiting from another kingdom and nothing more.”
“Surely they will ask for more details if they are so curious,” Katiyana said doubtfully.
“Then pretend to be shy.”
The formal dining room was lovely, with dark furniture and numerous candles in tapered, silver holders. It reminded her of all the meals she had shared with her father in her own castle. Lian pulled a chair out for her and as she sat, more people entered the dining room. She heard a soft sigh from behind her and the king pushed her chair in with a little more force than was necessary.
Wilemina stood in the doorway with a couple that was clearly her parents. Her mother was as lovely as she was but she had gotten her wide, blue eyes from her father. The man looked formidable but Lian greeted him kindly enough. “It is good to have you back with us, Kent, how was the stay with your daughter?”
“Wonderful,” the older woman interrupted. “She’s just had her second baby, another boy and he is so adorable.”
Wilemina gave a pinched smile. “Yes, adorable.”
The king didn’t offer her his arm but she took it anyway. She simpered as he seated her between her parents and across from Katiyana. Her smile was friendly but her eyes were icy.
“I did not realize you would be joining us,” she said, her voice tight.
“Neither did I,” Katiyana muttered.
“I am afraid I did not get your name.”
She looked to the king for help but he was busy seating the mother. “Kat.”
“Cat? Like the animal?” Wilemina asked, incredulous.
“No, not like the animal, like the, like the name.” The linen napkin was a twisted mess in her hands under the table.
“What did you say your name was, my dear?” the mother asked.
“Kat,” she repeated, forcing herself to look up at the woman.
“Oh. Well, it’s lovely to meet you. You may call me Angelica.” Her smile was a false as her daughters and she eyed her up and down. “Tell me, are you here just visiting?”
Wilemina looked to Katiyana with interest and she understood what the question really was. She gave a wicked smile of her own. “For now. But who knows how long I will end up staying?”
Lian looked up at that with a smile and she had to hold back laughter as Wilemina turned a furious shade of red.
“And where are you visiting from?”
Panic welled up as she searched for answer to the question. “Um.”
“From here and there,” Lian cut in. “Her father is an excellent advisor of a particular nature. She will be staying here while he completes his current task.”
Katiyana had no idea what he meant by that but Kent seemed to understand. He laid a finger against his nose. “I see. Well, welcome to the Sun Palace, Kat. I am sure you will find it as lovely as we do.”
“Who is your father?” Wilemina asked, her eyes fierce.
“Ah ah, dear. That is a sensitive matter, if you understand me. No more questions.” His daughters face looked as if it might explode but Katiyana was too relieved to rejoice over it.
Servants brought out the first course and she spent as much time as she could with food in her mouth and her eyes on the table. The other two women ate as if it were an art and a competition. They sectioned off the tiniest bits of lettuce and brought them daintily to their mouths before chewing forever. Before the salads were half finished, they were pushed away. Katiyana looked hungrily at her own plate and ate as politely as she could. She could feel the disgust rolling from across the table. A glance at the king showed he looked as unhappy as she felt.
Kent carried most of the conversation between the courses and Katiyana learned he was some sort of financial advisor to the king. He was not happy about the price of the water project but reluctantly agreed it had to be done.
Katiyana longed to get up from the table and run from the castle, straight back to the forest. But the queen had to be taken from the throne and her people helped. The only one who could help her do that, who really knew who she was, was Lian. So she stifled another sigh and prayed dessert would go quickly.
Wilemina and her mother refused the berry crumble but Katiyana happily accepted hers. Steaming cups of a darkest brown liquid were served and the men had brandy poured in theirs. Curious, she took a sip. “Gah!” she said. “It is so bitter.”
Wilemina eyed her over the rim of her own cup. “Of course it is, it is café. Where do you hail from that you have never had café?”
“Her father dislikes it,” Lian interjected quickly. “I doubt he would offer his daughter a drink he detested.” He pushed the sugar bowl over to her. “You might like it better sweetened.”
Katiyana dumped a few spoonfuls in and stirred before trying it again. It did not taste any better but it was palatable. She was determined to sip her drink as elegantly as Wilemina and her mother did.
“Have any royal messengers been your way recently, King Lian?” Anjelica asked politely.
He frowned. “No. Should I be expecting one?”
“Indeed, we all should. My daughter lives so much further north now, and while we were visiting, we heard word King Valanka is to be married.”
Katiyana spewed her café out over the pristine white table cloth and gave a wet cough. “Someone agreed to marry the Cold King?” she gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
Lian frowned. “I would appreciate more civility from you. He is royalty and should be addressed as such. And how do you even know who he is?”
“Everyone knows who he is, he is a monster,” she said, faking a little shudder. “Mothers everywhere tell their children to be good or they will send them to the Cold King to be slaves forever and ever.”
Lian slammed his hand to the table, causing all the cups and Wilemina and Anjelica to jump. “Enough.”
Before Katiyana could open her mouth, Wilemina cut in. “So you have never had café and for some reason might not have heard of King Valanka? Truly, you intrigue me.”
Katiyana swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was this angry, jealous woman digging around in her past.
Lian seemed to realize his mistake and cleared his throat. “And do the rumors tell us who the lucky woman is?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Some servant,” Wilemina answered snidely, and Katiyana noticed the king did not correct her rudeness.
Finally the drinks and dessert were finished and the king rose from the table. Katiyana followed suit, eager to be finished with the terrible dinner. Anjelica cocked her head. “Do you enjoy riding, my dear?”
“Me? No, I would never trust one of those dumb animals to cart me around. Why?”
The woman’s eyebrows had risen so high they were nearly to her hairline. “I judged by your unusual choice of dinner wear you were an equestrian enthusiast.”
Katiyana flushed and brushed down the unwieldy skirts. “Right. I um, I liked the color.”
The king exchanged pleasantries with Kent and Katiyana took the opportunity to rush from the room and up the stairs. She was nearly safe inside her room when the king caught up. “What was that?” he demanded.
“What was what?”
“Your performance at dinner. You are a guest, and royalty yourself, yet your manners are atrocious.”
She felt her jaw drop open. “Says the man who has had more temper tantrums than I can count in the few days I have known him?”
“You act like country bumpkin, not a princess.�
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“And you act like an angry bear, not a king!”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I am beginning to form a plan, but it involves uniting other kingdoms around your cause for the throne. That will not be an easy task if you cannot present yourself as a queen.”
“I am not a queen and I do not want the throne! I want her punished for her crimes and my people to be free to live the good lives they once did when my father was alive.”
“And who will rule them when the queen is gone? You are the heir, the only heir.”
Katiyana rubbed at the tense muscles of her neck. “That is not what I want.” Not anymore, she silently added.
“I fear it does not matter what you want. You can either help your people or not.”
“Fine. And what is your grand plan for this?”
“I am not sure yet, but King Valanka’s wedding has given me an idea. We will be attending, together.” He turned towards his door then said over his shoulder, “And you will wear a proper gown.”
Katiyana scowled and slammed her door shut. But her anger quickly gave way to exhaustion and she began digging around the massive dresser to find something suitable to wear for bed. Alma knocked and entered. “I thought you would be looking for one of these.” She held up a white, frothy thing, dripping with lace.
“What is that supposed to be?”
“A nightgown. What do you normally sleep in?”
“You want me to sleep in that? I will get tangled up in all that lace and die!”
“You will not,” Alma scoffed. “Really, do you not remember how to dress and act from all those years ago?”
Katiyana froze and Alma snapped her mouth shut, realizing her slip.
“I do not know what you speak of,” Katiyana said woodenly.
“I am so sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I promise, I have told no one, I will tell no one.” Her heart shaped face was pinched with worry.
“Did Lian tell you? He is the only one that knows.” Her heart was racing in her chest. The only thing that kept her safe was secrecy and she had so foolishly trusted the revenge driven king to keep silent.
Alma watched the emotions run over her face and grabbed her hand. “He did not speak of it, I swear. I guessed. I have been his servant for years, I know his obsession with the queen and plotting her downfall, I have listened to him for countless hours go over everything known about her. I put it together.” She looked down guiltily.
