by Kara Jaynes
So why did the thought of him and Jillian together make her unhappy?
29
Isabelle finished her evening chores, not going to her rooms until she was quite sure Lady Ilysa and Jillian had everything they needed before they settled in for the night.
She stifled a yawn as she shuffled back to her apartment. She never felt like she got enough sleep since her suspension. She would have to be extra kind to any servants she might have after this. Though she was beginning to wonder if it was ethical to even have servants. Not if one treats them horribly, like harpy-lady-Ilysa.
Entering her room, Isabelle closed the door behind her, locking it. It was dark, and she walked carefully toward the small table, hand reaching out for the candle she knew she’d find there.
Only it wasn’t there. Isabelle frowned in the darkness. Had she moved it? She couldn’t remember.
She jumped at the sound of a match being lit, and a light flared behind her. Spinning around, she came face to face with Jack. The man was holding the candle, it’s light flickering across his face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly. Her stomach twisted in knots. She was happy to see him. Why?
Jack was silent for a moment, his face expressionless in the candlelight. “Who’s Silvan?” he asked quietly.
Isabelle stared at him as the hammering of her heart changed from an excited patter to the gallop of anxiety. How did he know?
A memory flitted across her mind, when Jillian had faked her sprain. Isabelle had suggested Silvan carry the girl. I’m an idiot.
“I . . . he’s a friend.”
Her voice hitched on the last word and Jack’s eyes narrowed, the temperature dropping in the room. “What do you mean by ‘friend?’”
Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, trying her best to look unconcerned, but her gaze slid away from his, unable to look him in the eye. “It can hardly matter to you.”
“Who—is—Silvan?” Jack hissed. Ice began to creep up the candlestick.
“I already told you,” Isabelle shot back. She shivered, her skin prickling from the cold. “He’s a friend, and one that doesn’t simper all over me like fool Jillian does to you.”
The ice stopped. “What are you talking about?” Jack’s anger turned to an expression of bewilderment.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and you do nothing about it.” Isabelle glared at him. “If you don’t like her, why don’t you discourage her affections? Why do you come to call on her? Not that I care,” she added hastily. I don’t, she thought stubbornly. But she needed to distract him from Silvan. Besides, they’re supposed to be together. That’s why I helped Jillian fake a sprain. Jack needs to break his curse, and I can’t help him with that. The thought filled her with a melancholy she couldn’t explain. “But it shouldn’t bother you that I have other friends.”
“I come to see you.” Jack’s voice was quiet, almost sad.
Isabelle stared at him, her voice caught in her throat. “To see me?” she finally spluttered. “What are you talking about? You hate me, Jack.” Her eyes narrowed. “I see. You come to gloat over my lowered position in the world.”
The corners of Jack’s mouth twitched. “Maybe a little. You needed humbling.”
Isabelle looked away, fuming as she crossed her arms.
“And I don’t hate you.”
“You could have fooled me,” Isabelle shot back.
Jack tilted his head, considering her. “I can hardly help what Jillian thinks of me.”
Isabelle bit her lower lip. She’d already said too much. “You’re supposed to love her.”
“Well, I don’t. I’ve come to ask you to attend the royal ball with me. As my partner.”
Isabelle stared at him, unable to hide her shock. “The ball?”
Jack rolled his eyes, the candlelight flickering shadows across his face. “It’s a dance.”
“I know what it is,” Isabelle snapped. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill. “You need to go with Lady Ilysa’s daughter. Jillian will be thrilled to dance with you.”
“I don’t want Jillian,” Jack whispered. With a sharp intake of breath, his face went rigid in the half-light, eyes widening with the realization of what he’d said.
They stared wordlessly at one another, Isabelle’s heart thumping wildly against her ribcage. “I can’t, Jack,” she said at last. “Servants aren’t permitted to attend as guests.”
Jack lifted a brow, his expression turning arrogant. “Sir Reginald can invite whoever he likes.”
“Let him try,” Isabelle said, her frustration rising, “and see how long it takes for the king to see through the Mask of Enchantment. The real Sir Reginald would never spend time with a servant.” Not for long, anyway. And not where he’d be seen.
“Not even if that servant is a Hunter?” Jack’s jaw was set stubbornly, but Isabelle could tell from the set of his shoulders that he knew she was right.
Isabelle compulsively reached out, patting him on the shoulder. “Perhaps my suspension will be lifted before the ball. If that happens, I’ll go with you.”
Jack’s face brightened. “Okay.” He blew out the candle and turned toward the window. Isabelle stifled a laugh. Jack didn’t use the door like a normal person.
Pushing open the large windowpane, Jack straddled the sill, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Stay away from this Silvan character.”
Isabelle’s anger flared again. “I’ll visit whoever I want.”
Jack sat as if frozen, staring silently at Isabelle. “What is he to you?”
“He’s promised to take me away from here if I ask him to.”
“Is that so?” Jack’s voice was devoid of all expression, and without the aid of candlelight, she couldn’t see his face. “And why haven’t you left?”
“I . . .” Isabelle paused, her insides twisting, “ . . . because I’m a Hunter. I’m loyal to the king.”
Jack mulled over this bit of information, head tilted in thought. “Is that the only reason?”
“What? Yes. Why else would I stay here?”
Without another word, Jack threw himself off the ledge. Isabelle scrambled forward, her throat constricting in fear as she peered over the sill, worried he’d fallen to his death. “Jack!” It came out a squeal.
There was no sign of the fool man. Isabelle bit back a curse. Leave it to Jack to scare her half to death with a dramatic exit. She closed the windowpane and locked it.
Her thoughts drifted to Silvan. What was he to her? Merely thinking of the man tied her stomach in knots, her skin prickling with awareness. She missed him all the time, and when she was around him, the man muddled her mind to the point where her brain felt like a useless organ. She sighed, getting ready for bed. I wish he were here. She blushed at the thought. Well, I mean, if we were married and everything. She shook her head, banning thoughts of the silver-haired shapeshifter. Isabelle, go to sleep!
30
It had been over a month since Isabelle had been suspended. She now hurried through the city, a small parcel clutched in her hands. It wasn’t much, something she’d bought with almost a week’s worth of servant wages, but she hoped Jack would accept it.
Why am I doing this? She knew already knew the answer, though. The animosity between them was lessening, and now that she could see a glimmer of their lost friendship, she felt an unexplainable desire to get it back.
She had to dodge to narrowly avoid getting run over by a four-horse drawn carriage. Everyone tried to spend as little time as possible out in the cold. It was still fall, but winter seemed to have come early, the nights cold enough to freeze. It was with chattering teeth that Isabelle lit the fire in Ilysa’s quarters every morning.
A young woman with a soot-streaked face scuttled by, her cloak seemingly made of different pelts and furs, and a peddler tried to convince Isabelle to buy a pair of worn-out boots that would supposedly take her anywhere she desired in an instant, for a ‘mere’ five gol
d pieces.
Isabelle ignored him. She was used to seeing all sorts of people and creatures in the city. Someone in the crowd jostled her, and she stumbled, nearly dropping her parcel.
The air warmed considerably once she was inside the palace. Jack wasn’t in his apartments, though, or at least didn’t answer when she knocked.
Isabelle bit her lip, considering her options. She was running out of time. Jillian was still at the library, now one of their weekly excursions and the young woman had no idea that Isabelle had left the building.
Where could he be? She hadn’t seen Jack at the library.
The training halls. That was the only other place Isabelle could think and she turned, running back down the palace passageways. She’d be in the berry brambles if Lady Ilysa caught her now.
Jack was there. He was running around the perimeter of the largest room in the Fabled Hunters training halls, his long stride eating away the distance. He skidded to a stop when he saw Isabelle, watching her intently.
Isabelle felt suddenly small, clutching the wrapped parcel to her chest. Her gift seemed utterly insignificant. “I . . .” She bit her lip, feeling foolish. “Never mind. I have to go.”
She turned, practically fleeing from the halls. She took a shaky breath of the cold fall air once outside. She’d better get back to the library.
“Isabelle.” Jack pushed open the doors, joining her. “What’s wrong?” His gaze fell on the small gift Isabelle still held. “What’s that?”
Well, nothing for it now. “It’s for you.” Isabelle shoved it at him, her heart thumping with nerves. “But if you don’t like it, that’s okay.”
Brow furrowed in puzzlement, Jack pulled the twine loose, carefully unwrapping the plain brown paper.
It was a small tin whistle, six holes in the slender tube. When Jack continued to stare at it, Isabelle spoke in a rush, pushing her words out. “You mentioned you used to have a whistle, and that it broke. A whistle was your first instrument. I couldn’t afford a new harp, so I . . .” She trailed off, turned and walked down the steps, disappointment making her ears burn.
She paused mid-step as music pierced the air. She stood as if frozen, the high melody hauntingly beautiful.
Spinning around, Isabelle saw the whistle pressed to Jack’s lips. His eyes were closed, his long, pale fingers deftly playing the instrument. All the pain, all the anger that lurked about his face was gone. This was Jack, the real Jack.
It was an old lullaby. Isabelle recognized the tune as one her mother used to sing to her as a child. The memory brought tears to her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away before Jack could see.
He played for a few moments longer, finishing the tune, then lowered the whistle, smiling faintly, his expression strangely tender. “Thank you, Isabelle.”
Isabelle’s heart fluttered at his words. “You’re welcome.”
They looked at each other, comfortable in the silence, and for the first time Isabelle began to feel that maybe, just maybe, they could close the rift between them.
Jack broke the silence first. “I’m going to the library. Want to come with me?”
The library. “Oh, no!” Isabelle exclaimed. “I left Jillian there, and I’m late.”
She turned and ran. Jack caught up to her in a few strides, easily keeping pace with a long-legged lope. “Why does it matter?” he asked.
Isabelle ran harder, gritting her teeth as her breath quickened. She didn’t have time to answer.
It was almost ten minutes before she stumbled through the massive library doors, clutching a stitch in her side. Jack still trailed her. “You okay?” He glanced at her curiously.
Isabelle would have glared at him if she wasn’t so busy trying to catch her breath.
“Isabelle.” Jillian came over to meet her, a look of sulky disapproval on her pretty face. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” Isabelle gasped. She leaned against one of the tall marble pillars that lined the front room of the library. “I went out for a walk and lost track of time.” She glanced over at Jack with feigned surprise. “Oh. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Quite the shock,” Jack drawled, back to his arrogant self. He inclined his head politely. “Lady Jillian. How is your ankle?”
Jillian blushed, sharing a glance with Isabelle. “It’s quite well, thank you.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.” Jack bowed again. “Good day.” He strode past them, walking further into the library.
Jillian watched him go, a heartsick expression on her face. “Do you think he likes me, Isabelle?”
“Of course he does,” Isabelle said. “Everyone does.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Jillian sighed, gliding gracefully to the exit. Isabelle followed, twisting a corner of her apron in thought. Jack was polite to Jillian, kind, even. Certainly nicer to Jillian than he was to her. But his interest clearly did not go past politeness.
Could Isabelle get them to fall in love? And did she want them to?
31
Lifting her skirts a little, Isabelle hurried alongside Jillian who moved just as quickly, the two of them walking down a long hall.
They came to an oak door that opened up to a large room. Isabelle tried to peer in without appearing to.
“Please return to this door within two hours,” Jillian said. She was wearing a white dress stitched with gold thread, and looked beautiful, but her dark face was scrunched up, clearly nervous about walking through the doorway alone.
Isabelle smiled. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll be back in two hours.” She planned to slip into her normal clothes and explore the city. Despite living here for several months, she’d seen surprisingly little of Illyminatym. She patted Jillian on the shoulder good-naturedly. “If the princess invited you to dine with her, it can only be a good thing. No need to worry.”
“Okay.” Jillian exhaled. “Thanks. Remember, two hours. I would like to do some shopping afterward.
Isabelle bit back a grimace and nodded.
“You, there!” Both Isabelle and Jillian jumped, turning around to face a large serving woman. She waved an imperious hand at Isabelle. “One of the servants who was supposed to help out is sick today. You’ll fill in for her.”
“Oh,” Isabelle began, “but I’m not one of the palace—”
“I don’t care who you are or aren’t,” the plump woman replied. “You’re clearly a servant. You’ll do. Come with me.” She marched by with a polite nod to Jillian.
Isabelle glanced at Jillian. “Well, I guess we’ll both go in?”
Jillian smiled apologetically. “If you don’t mind.”
Isabelle did. Having half of an afternoon sounded much more appealing than serving a bunch of stuffy nobles, but it looked like that wouldn’t happen today.
Jillian paused in the doorway to smooth the front of her dress. “How do I look?” she murmured.
“Perfect,” Isabelle muttered back, fighting down a surge of jealousy. With her flawless dark skin, sparkling black eyes and shy demeanor, Jillian was a beautiful girl. Once Jack realized that, it was probably only a matter of time before he fell madly in love with her.
Jillian flashed her a white smile. “Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, she walked into the large dining room, Isabelle at her heels.
Jack was the first person Isabelle noticed. He sat stiffly, as if his chair was uncomfortable. Her eyes scanning those here, Isabelle picked out Aviina and Tyro as well. Her face flushed with shame. She didn’t want Tyro to see her like this, but she didn’t have a choice. She quickly masked her embarrassment, hoping she looked bored instead.
There was an empty seat between Jack and a rail-thin nobleman, and Jillian hurried over to sit. She glanced up at Jack with a blissful smile, but he didn’t see it, his gaze locked on Isabelle.
Isabelle met his glance for a moment, then walked over to where a few other servants stood, and was soon set to pouring drinks for the nobles.
Princess Charlotte sat at the head of the table
and was making conversation with a young noblewoman Isabelle didn’t recognize. This was an event scheduled and planned by the princess herself, and Jillian had been ecstatic to receive an invitation. She had dragged Isabelle along in the hopes that they could immediately shop afterward.
Trying to walk so her pitcher of punch wouldn’t spill over, Isabelle started with the corner of the table closest to her. Three noblewomen sat together talking in low voices. Eavesdropping was pointless. They were talking about the latest fashions from the Eastern Province.
When she reached Jack and Jillian, she found the thin nobleman making conversation with Jillian, his brown face flushed with enthusiasm as he chatted about what sounded like his latest hunting experience. “I readied my bow. I had a clear shot at the stag. There’s no way I would have missed, but a blasted flock of bird swarmed from the foliage, startling my horse, so my aim was off.” He ran a hand through his black hair, trying unsuccessfully to appear rakish as he smiled crookedly at Jillian. “Scared my steed half to death. Good thing I’m such an excellent rider. It was too bad the stag got away, though. No doubt in my mind that I would have taken it down.”
Jillian listened with polite interest, ignoring Isabelle completely when she filled their two glasses.
When she reached Jack, the man was slightly slumped in his seat, covering a huge yawn with one hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled when Isabelle handed him a drink.
“Long night?” Isabelle murmured.
Jack nodded and downed his drink at an alarming speed. “Just some late-night reading.”
Isabelle would have preferred to stay and talk with him, despite their differences, but there was still more than half the table to see to. She continued making her round, feeling embarrassed by how almost everyone in the room ignored her, like she was a piece of furniture or part of the wall. None of the other servants were paid any attention to either, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
She reached Aviina, who was slouched in her chair, glaring at the tablecloth. Isabelle poured her a drink and Aviina turned her glare to Isabelle. “What are you doing here?” the small Hunter asked.
