by Amber Jaeger
“Am I more scared or more hungry?” she muttered to herself, holding a hand over her painfully empty belly. It growled loudly. “Hungry it is.”
Another dig through the luggage provided her the overcoat to her nightgown and she pulled it on. Again she was flummoxed by all the stupid ribbons. “Rot it,” she muttered, tying it as best she could to keep it closed.
The hall was not nearly as dark as she had feared and she roamed silently with her lantern shrouded. The whiteness of the floors and walls seemed to make things glow but also added to the creepiness of the night. She passed many paintings, some of dour nobles, some of bland landscapes, but occasionally there would be a bright, imaginative one. She doubted anyone would think them good, but she enjoyed their cheerfulness and whimsy.
Faintly she could hear a quiet tinkering and followed the noise, eventually finding herself in the wide doorway of a brightly lit kitchen. A tall man with dark hair had his back to her and she waited for him to notice her. When he turned to grab a small jar off a shelf his eyes lighted on her. For a moment, he looked almost as scared as she felt, then he motioned her in before turning back to his task.
Katiyana crept in and took a seat as the long counter. “Are you hungry?” the man asked, not turning around as continued his task.
“A little,” she said, just as a loud growl gave away her lie. The scent of cinnamon was heavy in the air and she sniffed appreciatively.
“This will not be ready until the morning,” he said, covering the dish with a towel. “But I can make you something else, what would you like?”
She could not say what she would really like. Roasted squirrel with fried green tomatoes and Adora’s jam over fresh biscuits… Her mouth watered and she shook her head. The man was looking at her from over his shoulder. “I um, whatever is most handy would be lovely.”
He pulled out a few unusual vegetables and diced them so quickly her eyes could not follow. Next he poured just a drop of hot oil into a pan and threw in a handful of rice. Katiyana watched him make the food, wondering if the palace was so populated they always had a cook on.
From a pan he added some raw meat, probably not squirrel, and the vegetables. As he stirred the food and slid the sauce pan around, she risked a look at him. He was just as tall as Lian but not nearly so wide. His face was quite handsome but around his eye and down his cheek she could see faded white scars surrounded by slightly pinked flesh. She guessed he had been burned but it looked to have been a long time ago.
He must have felt her gaze and lifted his curious green eyes up to hers. Embarrassed she had been caught staring, she quickly looked back down to the counter. With a flourish he tossed the meal onto a plate and sprinkled it with a dark liquid.
Katiyana sniffed appreciatively then took a bite. It was delicious and she murmured her approval. “You like it?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice.
“It is amazing,” she said around a steaming mouthful. “What do you call it?”
The man frowned. “I cannot remember what Jeh calls it. But I am glad you like it.”
The statement was curious to her but she was too hungry to wonder. She only paused to blow on the hot rice before devouring another forkful.
The man slowly cleared away the mess he made and finally spoke again. “Lian has many good things to say about you.”
Katiyana frowned at the casualness with which he spoke about the king but did not question it. Perhaps they were friends. “I am surprised to hear that. He wants me to be a lady but I cannot even figure out how to put this rotted nightgown on properly,” she grumped, gesturing at the mess of ribbons.
The man frowned. “I would not how to either, but I do not think that is how Calia wears hers.”
Uneasy with caressing way he said her name, she took another forkful. “Have you been the cook here long?” she asked, trying to discern his relationship with the royalty.
The man gave a wry smile. “I feel as though I have been here forever but no, I am not the cook. My newest chef has been kind enough to give me lessons. I am finding I rather enjoy it.”
Understanding dawned and her fork clattered to the counter, flinging bits of hot rice everywhere. “You are him? The Cold King?” she gasped.
“I was once,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. He raised his eyes to hers and she saw a faint haunting of pain and remorse in their depths. “But now I am just King Valanka.”
Katiyana scrambled off her stool so fast it knocked to the ground and she tripped over the long legs. “Where is your mask? They said you always wore a mask!”
The king came around the counter, his dark brows cinched together and she struggled to her feet. “He also mentioned you were a bit skittish,” he said, holding his hand out to help her out. Reluctantly, she accepted it and stood, clenching her nightgown in her fists.
“I um, I… Oh rot it, I am never going to get anything right,” she said, slapping her hands over her face.
King Valanka gave a gentle laugh and she finally dared to peek at him through her fingers. “Do not worry, I will not be locking you in my dungeon. From what I understand, it would do no good anyway.” Her face blanched and he laughed again. “Please, I was only joking.”
He put the stool back to rights as she stood there like an idiot. Was she supposed to curtsy?
“Sit, sit,” he insisted, wiping the rice from the counter with his large, strong hands. “No harm done. Finish your meal.”
Cheeks blazing, she sat back down and picked up her fork. He was watching her with an amused smile. “I thought perhaps Lian was boasting when he spoke of you, but I can see he was not.”
“Surely you are joking now,” she said sourly, taking her seat.
“I am not. He said you had the fieriest spirit he had ever come across.”
Katiyana frowned down at her plate. “Well, that is not a compliment. And in any case, that honor should go to him.”
“That was not all he said,” Valanka said gently. “He said were strong and genuine and that with a little help, you could rule your kingdom and be a victor for your people.”
She sighed and stirred her rice around. “I hope so. More than anything.”
“Cheer up, we are on your side. I know very well the evils Sula has committed against your people. Calia has taken up their cause and I cannot tell you how much food we send into the area.”
“They can no longer grow their own at?” she asked, trying to imagine her once fertile land barren. The latest reports were only a few months old and had given some hope that at least a few farms were still surviving. But Valanka dashed her hopes with his next words.
“With what? They have no money for tools or seeds or labor or the taxes. And what they do manage to grow goes to the palace. It comes back out only in trickles, only enough to keep people from the brink of death.” His face shifted into hard planes and for a moment she could see a glimpse of the coldness that was rumored to be inside him. Then he looked up and offered a smile. “But I suspect you want to change all that.”
“I want to change it back,” she said vehemently. “It was not that way when my father was alive, it should not be this way now.”
“Then I would suggest you get your rest, tomorrow will be a big day for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Katiyana managed to find her room again and fell into a fitful sleep. As she slept, she dreamed. Her father was there and she young once again, playing under a table. He was enjoying his dinner and she could hear the soft voice of a woman. When she turned, she could see her father’s legs, his expensive pants and shoes. But there was no gown for a woman, only the thick, coiled tail of a snake, the tip dripping down to the floor.
She shot up in bed, her chest heaving. Light was barely coming in through the window and she stumbled out of bed to reach it and fling it open. Freezing air rushed in, turning the sweat on her brow to ice, but she was able to breath.
After a moment she closed it with numb hands and turned back to the room. Everyone wo
uld be awakening soon and she wanted to make an impression.
Out of her luggage she pulled a deep violet gown made from a light velvet with long sleeves. She debated for a moment over adding the slim breeches and finally decided yes, for warmth’s sake. In the bathing room she plunged herself in the warm bath, relishing the return of feeling to her hands before turning to the task of scrubbing herself raw. Finally she climbed out of the tub and wrapped up in a thick towel.
Determined to present herself as a lady, she dragged comb through her thick hair, wincing the whole time. There was no way she could braid it so instead pushed it back with the little combs in a dish by the sink.
The dress presented its own problems but by standing in front of the mirror, she could see enough to get it on correctly. Fiercely proud of herself, she gazed at her reflection. There was still a harshness to her face and a roughness to her hands but she looked rather presentable.
There was a quiet knock on the door and she moved to fling it open before remembering some manners. “You may enter,” she called.
Alma came in and her eyes widened. “Katiyana, you look amazing. How did you do that?”
She smiled. “It took a while, but I figured it out.”
“Your hair is beautiful, would you like me to put it up?”
Katiyana paused, looking at her reflection. She remembered her step mother’s severe hair, hanging straight down like a wall of black ice cut off at the jawline as if by a razor. “No,” she said, taking in her own soft waves pulled back from her face, “I think I like it this way.”
She nodded. “King Valanka has invited you down to breakfast with him and his fiancée.”
“Thank you, Alma,” she said, heading for the door.
“Do you need me to show you the way?”
“Is the dining room next to the kitchen?” she asked.
“Um, it is.”
“Then I am fine.” She bit her lip. “I mean, no thank you, I can find my way.”
The hallways were a bit less cold and intimidating in the daylight and she stopped to admire the colorful paintings more closely.
Valanka, Calia and Lian were all waiting for her at the table. She rushed to sit but remembered at the last moment to allow one of the servants to seat her. Lian waved him away and instead stood to pull her chair out. “You look very regal this morning, Tree Girl,” he whispered in her ear.
She suppressed a grin and folded her hands in her lap, remembering to put the napkin over it first. Calia gave her a smile and Valanka dipped his head towards her. Remembering her manners over breakfast was exhausting and didn’t let her concentrate on the conversation but she was reasonably sure she had not embarrassed herself.
When the meal was finished, an older woman came to clear the dishes with another young woman following her. Calia rose to help and Katiyana followed suit. Lian frowned at her.
“What? I am not going to sit here and let them wait on me, I’m perfectly capable of clearing a table.” He sighed but Valanka held a finger up.
“I do not think anyone will look down upon her for doing her share of work. Sula does not do any and her people suffer greatly for it. No one will want to put another spoiled ruler on the throne, not if your aim is to show them how independent the kingdom can become.”
Katiyana raised an eyebrow at Lian and he scowled back. “That is not why you did it, it would not have occurred to you.”
Valanka spoke again. “And that is for the best. Again, they will not want to replace the scheming, deceitful queen with another of the same.”
The two men had their heads bowed together when she and Calia came back. They spoke of soldiers and weapons and acres and seed. Plans were formulated to bring stability to the region as soon as possible, as soon as Katiyana was placed on the throne.
She had more input than she thought she would. She knew of the soil and the growing seasons, how the homes were constructed and how things had been dispersed in her father’s day.
The conversation continued through lunch, none of them really noticing the plates set before them. Lian was able to keep his temper as everything seemed to be going his way in terms of revenge. Alma came in more than once to nudge their plates closer to their hands and eventually the food was eaten.
In late afternoon, Calia declared it time for a break and they all stood from the table, stretching sore muscles. Valanka slipped an arm around his fiancée and they strolled away. Katiyana looked to Lian. “I need to get outside. Are you coming?”
He raised an eyebrow and she tried again. “Walk with me?”
They paused at the front entrance while Alma dug through the large closet, finding them cloaks and furs to protect against the cold weather. Outside it was so different than the woods she lived in and the land Lian came from.
Katiyana twirled in the courtyard to take it all in. The heather blue of the mountains stood sharply against the steel grey sky and everything seemed washed in dark tones. But the bright white snow collecting in little piles against the walls and around the large, decorative planters stood in cheery contrast and she knelt to touch the cold powder before sticking her hand back in her glove.
They walked slowly as Katiyana took it all in. “Do you hate it here?” she asked.
Lian looked at her in surprise. “Not at all, why do you ask?”
“It is so different than your home, opposite almost.”
“So I should hate it? No, perhaps I would if I had to rule here instead of on the Sun Throne but thankfully that is not the case.” He led them around the castle to where they could see the village down below. “We may be very different but we work quite nicely together. See the long dark patches out there?”
Katiyana nodded.
“Those are field of cold weather vegetables. We trade for our more hardy vegetables so we can both have a variety all season long. Same as meat. We raise the grazers, they have the more wildish animals.”
She turned to him curiously.
“Goats,” he explained. “When your father was in power, we all traded for your kingdoms pork.”
She smiled at that. “I always loved our pigs. Sometimes we would find wild ones out in the woods and feast for a few days. Ado—” She cut herself, in disbelief she had almost revealed her friend.
Lian sighed. “I do wish you felt comfortable enough with me by now to tell me of your past life.”
“I am comfortable with you. But my past is shrouded in other people’s secrets and they are not mine to tell.”
“Perhaps I can help them as I have helped you,” he argued.
Katiyana did not want to fight but she was not going to let him push her either. “You are only helping me because it helps you. Neither they nor their circumstances could be of any use to you.”
For just a second heat flashed in his darkening eyes, followed by an emotion she had not seen before. Was it hurt? “I cannot say I was not motivated by my need to see Sula removed from the throne. But surely you can see that is for the best?”
She hesitated before speaking again. “I do. But still, it suits your needs. If I needed something and could not return the favor by helping along your revenge, would you have helped me?”
“Of course,” he spat out.
Katiyana shook her head sadly. “No, you would not have had the time for it. Just as you do not have the time to see your farmers needs or even to your own father’s funeral ceremony.”
At that his face hardened and his hand whipped out to grab her by the arm. “You do not know of which you speak,” he snarled, pulling her face in close to his.
“Let go,” she ground out, arching away from him.
His face had gone a pale shade with hectic splotches high on his cheeks and his hair fanned around his granite features. She could feel his tremors through the hand that gripped her too hard.
“Let go,” she repeated slowly. When he did not respond, did not even blink, she spun and ducked under his arm, ripping hers from his grasp. He was even stronger than she had ima
gined but even his arm could not bend backwards to keep his grip.
Frightened and free, she ran faster than she ever had, tearing around the cold stone corner of the castle. There were no trees to climb and she was desperate to be up, away, safe. She didn’t pause as she searched, even though she heard no pursuit behind her. The cragged stones making up the exterior of the palace seemed to call to her.
With one viscious rip, the skirt of her gown was off and fluttering away as she leapt up onto a low sill and began climbing. Clinging to the small stone ledges was more difficult than climbing a tree but she pushed herself, carefully finding holds to pull herself higher. He could not follow her here.
Three stories up, she glanced to the sides, never down, and spied a balcony with a cracked door. Her fingertips and palms burned but she made her way over before slipping over the railing. The beat of her heart was almost painful and the blood rushing behind her ears made her vision waver for a moment. A deep breath slowed it all and she peeked over edge, scanning the ground. No Fire King.
Relieved, she stood and wiped her hands on her trousers, wincing at the sting. Blood in faint trails was left on the fabric. Muttering to herself, she slipped in through the cracked door and stopped dead.
It was a bedroom, complete with a woman sitting on the edge of the large bed. She had frozen in the act of lacing tall boots over her slim trousers, her dark braid dangling nearly to the floor over her shoulder. Her large eyes blinked once and she slowly straightened. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Startled by her language and manner of dress, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Who are you? And why are you not wearing a dress?”
The woman stood and crossed her arms over her chest, a smirk on her face. “I am the horse master. A skirt would not be very sensible in a barn.”
“You tend the horses?” she asked blankly.
The woman stepped closer just as the door opened and Katiyana dove back out the door and nimbly jumped to perch on the balcony railing, her heart in her throat. “Easy, child,” came a vaguely familiar voice. Thankfully, it was not Lian’s.
