“Good evening, ma’am.” One said dropping a curtsey, which was echoed by the other. “We’re your personal maids,”
“I’m Romana.” She replied automatically.
“We know ma’am.” The one who’d spoken first replied. “I’m Jasmine, should it please you, and this is my twin Alice.”
“Can she not speak for herself?” Romana asked.
“She’s a mute milady; she’s taken a vow of silence to the Ancients with our parent’s blessing.”
Romana nodded in the girl’s direction, and Alice smiled and nodded back.
“The wardrobes are all empty…” She trailed off.
“Several tailors, jewellers, shoe makers and other masters of the crafts are coming over the next five days milady.” Jasmine informed her. “The first is due any moment now, would you like us to have tea ordered for the receiving room?”
“Wonderful, I can pretend to have any clue as to what I’m doing and drink tea.” She replied. “What is he going to want to know?”
“She is Miss Callie French milady, one of seven human designers that are going to put together the human side of your wardrobe, the other six are elven designers who will be arriving late tomorrow, the clothes should all be done by the end of next week. And she will probably guide you through it, although mostly it should just be questions and answers. Oh, and she’ll have to take some measurements.”
“What will I wear until then?” Romana asked.
“His highness is discretely using the maids to buy the most fashionable clothes he can find at regular stores.”
“He also said I wouldn’t need to wear fancy dresses all the time, has that been taken into consideration?” She asked.
“It was mentioned on the letters to the human tailors, yes. But not to the elven ones, who’ll be designing for both your residences at D’Arville and Morendor. Will that be alright ma’am?”
“I am sure I’ll be able to manage for the few months I’ll be staying there.” She replied.
“A few months, milady? We heard you’d be travelling to and from D’Arville constantly. A permanent portal is being set up in the palace for your use.”
“Permanent portal?” She queried “you seem better informed than me.”
“Prince Endis suggested it.” Jasmine replied, eager to tell her more. “There’ll be a room in the palace basements where you will be able to travel to and from Elvardis, the elven capital, and D’Arville. It was supposed to be safer for you than travelling on horseback.”
At that comment Alice pulled a small chalkboard from her pocket and began to write carefully on it before giving it to Jasmine.
“Alice says that Miss French will be arriving soon and that should you not mind we should begin dressing you for the meeting.”
“Of course, but what do you want me to wear?”
“There were two dresses left over from the conference that his highness has sent over for today and tomorrow. Both are suitable for someone of your importance.”
“I’m not that important,” She grumbled as she led the way into the mirrored room and allowed them to dress her in another elven-style dress, before they began on her hair.
“It’s not often you see a lady with short hair, ma’am, perhaps you’d like to grow it out so it could be done more elaborately for some state balls?”
“No thank-you,” she replied “I told Marten when I agreed to this that there were to be no large changes to my life or appearance just because he’s giving me a title and some land.”
“As you wish milady.” Jasmine replied, clearly disappointed.
Okay they were going to have to nip this one straight in the bud. “Okay, if you guys are going to be hanging around me you’re going to have to know this: I’m unlikely to want to act lady all the time. In fact most days I will definitely not be wearing dresses and I most certainly cannot be bothered to have hours spent on my hair and face every morning. In fact most mornings I will probably be perfectly capable of throwing on some clothes that look comfortable and going outside to ride or train, and I most probably be able to do it at a speed that means you won’t even see me.” She informed them, trying to say the last without arrogance and succeeding – barely.
Their reactions were about as different as night from day. Alice gave her a small smile that hid a carefully masked approval, while Jasmine became immediately depressed and sombre.
“Thank-you for informing us of this, milady.” She replied, somewhat more grave than before.
“And please stop calling me milady and ma’am.” She added exasperated. “If I’m in this room it’ll either be because I want to sleep, or I want to get away from all the court trash that will probably come flying at me. I don’t need the constant reminder that I’m one of these powerful people.”
Both girls looked openly horrified at that.
“You shouldn’t shock them so Lady Romana.” Hana’s voice drifted to her from the doorway. “Perhaps you will allow them to call you ‘miss’ instead.” Seeing the sense in that, Romana nodded slowly. It was probably best she didn’t freak out her house staff on their first day. “Now girls back to your chores. Romana, Miss French is in the reception room. His highness sent me to guide you through the process.”
“Thank goodness for that.” She replied. “I’m flying blind here.”
“I know.” Hana replied “Listen, about yesterday, I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine.” Romana cut in. “I guess I always knew you would go to him, he’s lucky to have people like you on his staff.”
Hana blushed and ushered her down some stairs and through the huge manor until they reached a lushly decorated room where seven velvet armchairs were arranged in a rough circle. Standing by one of these chairs was a petit woman in her late twenties, her long hair braided around her head in something close to a piece of art.
“Miss French?” Romana guessed. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank-you milady.” The tailor replied, refusing to meet her eyes.
Romana sighed inwardly; this was going to prove to be one of the worst no choice situation she’d ever been in, no matter how comfortable life was going to become. She wagered for every ounce of new-found comfort a heap of complications and problems was going to arise.
Chapter Thirty-One
THE ANIMAL TRAITS
Two weeks later and Romana couldn’t remember a time when her job had been to clean floors and dust surfaces. For a fortnight she’d been constantly on the move with no end to the constant barrage of work that she was expected to do. Jasmine had assured her that it was only since she was just coming into office that it was so hard to keep up; that and the fact that she had no scribes noting down the main points of letters and discerning important ones from pleas for money.
“Excuse me, your ladyship,” The butler began “Prince Marten is here, and awaiting your company in the foyer. What should I tell him?”
“That I’ll be down to kill him in a moment.” She replied, only half joking.
“Very well, madam.” He replied, leaving her to the letter in front of her.
She glanced down again, some farmer was asking to extend his lands into hers, the answer was obviously no, but she would have to write that into a page long letter. She sighed in frustration.
Getting up, she stretched, surprised at how stiff her legs were, then again, she thought as she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, she’d been at this for hours. She used elvenspeed to reach Marten, who took one look at her and pulled her into a hug.
“You look exhausted.” He told her.
“Wonderful to see you too.” She retorted.
“How were things while I was away?” He’d been on a trip to Elvardis for the last week, settling a border clash between the elves and the dwarves as an impartial diplomat. “Did you get a chance to do any of the things you said you wanted to?”
“No. I was buried under a pile of paperwork and letters. When can I get a scribe’s office like yours?”
“I haven’t slept for the last three days,” She informed him, “Help a damsel in distress here.”
“I’ll send a few scribes over to work here tomorrow.” He replied. “What else have you been doing?”
“Well I’ve been asked to open several shops and buildings even one new stable, which was tiring. I cook for the four thieves and Katelyn every morning and evening.” Tommy had brought along a few friends, the oldest of whom was at least twenty five and the youngest just nine years old! “That wasn’t hard though, they were all so polite.”
“You’re not thinking about inviting them to dinner properly?”
“They’ll be here in a minute anyway.” Romana replied “Eat with us?” It was nearly dinner time, and usually the thieves and Katelyn would spend five minutes discussing what they wanted to eat and then chat to her while she cooked it. “They wouldn’t mind, and it would be nice for me to have someone else to cook for.”
“Alright then.” He replied. “Won’t I scare them off?”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She replied, leading the way along to her little kitchen.
She unlocked the window and opened it, to find a pair of hands immediately grabbing hold of the window ledge.
Tommy, ever the show off, did a flip through the window to land right beside the table.
“Aww, man Katelyn isn’t here!” He said, looking genuinely gutted “And here I was hoping for a round of applause.”
“She’ll be back from school in a minute.” Romana told him, even as Tommy suddenly noticed Marten and turned sheet white. “Marten is eating with you tonight. He isn’t a prince in this kitchen and I’m still in charge, so don’t worry he hasn’t got the power to arrest you.”
With that Keenan leaped softly into the room, he was the oldest of the three friends Tommy had introduced her to, and was honestly one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. Blonde hair so pale as to be white hung just long enough to be rebellious, but short enough to remain practical for the thief. His eyes were so crystalline as to really resemble diamonds glittering there. According to his mother he was half fey, and she could nearly believe it. He reached down to pull up Jerry, the nine year old who he was mentoring, who was followed by Tommy’s most trusted friend Ileana, a fifteen year old girl with a tongue so sharp that it could really cut you to ribbons if you got on the wrong side of it.
At that Katelyn ran into the room, still in her uniform and smiled brightly.
Tommy, still not giving up on the hope of applause did a summersault over the large table to land in front of her with a bow. This of course set Katelyn into a fit of giggles as she clapped.
“Show off.” Ileana muttered, as he back flipped into his seat.
“You love me for it.” He quipped as they all sat down.
“What do you guys want today?” Romana asked, tying an apron over her new clothes.
Suddenly all eyes turned to Marten.
“Don’t look at me.” He said, raising his hand in mock surrender. “I don’t know what she cooks best.”
“That’s the meat pie.” Jerry replied.
“No, it’s the ratatouille.” Katelyn argued.
Romana didn’t intervene, simply watched as all of them battled it out stating their case for their favourite dish to be cooked then condemning everyone else’s choices. The raucous debate ended with Keenan stating firmly that they would all be eating meat pie, much to Katelyn’s annoyance.
“So how did you all end up eating here?” Marten asked.
“I tried to pick her pocket.” Tommy replied. “Then, our resident elf here decided I looked too thin so I needed feeding, so she made me breakfast. About a week or three later, I start looking better fed, and Jerry here gets up the nerve to ask me where I get the food.”
“I was starving!” Jerry defended. “I was so thin I could count my ribs.”
“You were,” Romana replied, remembering her own shock when she’d seen the child’s sunken face and bony structure.
“But Jerry has a big mouth.” Ileana informed the prince, “So he runs around telling people that he’s got a nice lady who wants to cook for him every day for the rest of his life. Of course, no one believed him, save Keenan and I,” she nodded towards the silent man in the corner, “So we followed Tommy the next morning and found the good lady cooking a large breakfast.”
“Keenan was ready to tell me off for not stealing the food!” Jerry added “But Romana then tells him she was cooking salmon that night, and Keenan loves fish so he comes back after doing a background check on her.”
“You did a check on me?” She asked the silent man. “All good I hope?”
“Actually no.” He replied, in his quiet yet unexpectedly pleasing voice. “I ran into a former slave who told me you used to steal money from the slave master’s office when you cleaned so you could buy books. That was when I decided to trust you enough to eat your food.” His gaze scanned over her again then, quietly assessing.
“Well I’m glad you’ve decided I’m not trying to poison you, it would be bad manners to do so.”
“And it would make it hard for Keenan to ask you out!” Ileana insisted. “He’s always wanted someone who can cook for him day and night.”
Keenan didn’t answer, just resumed surveying the room as she rolled out the pastry. “Don’t tell tall tales Ileana.” Romana scolded. “It won’t serve you well in life.”
“That’s what they said about stealing, and it’s worked out so far.” The girl snapped back.
“Yes, I remember just how well fed you were when you first snuck into my kitchen.”
“Hey!” She replied “I was trying to set you two up there, you could be happy together, and fall in love.” The girl’s eyes drifted into fantasy, but Romana knew exactly how to snap her out of it.
“Yes, and then I could watch him die from old age while I remain the same age that I am now.” She replied “I will not be dating anyone other than someone from my own race. Is that clear?”
“Okay.” The girl pouted, but then light dawned in her eyes “What about Prince Marten! He’s half elf!”
“He’s sitting right in front of you.” Marten pointed out lightly. “And I cannot count all the ways that Romana would not have me, even if my mother’s ego could stand being constantly out done by her daughter-in-law.”
“But you wouldn’t mind her though?” Ileana insisted. “Even if she’s stubborn, very high maintenance and eccentric.”
“Hey!” Romana interrupted “Remember who’s cooking you food. I can send you out of here any time I please.”
“It’s just a fact.” The girl replied defensively “And you’re just as sharp tongued as I am.”
“Alright, out you go.”
“Not to mention touchy.” Ileana muttered.
“Don’t make her go, please.” Tommy begged as Ileana began to stand.
“If she stops this match making nonsense then she can stay.” Romana replied.
“Fair enough.” Ileana replied, sitting back down. “But you’re going to have to tell me which of the two gorgeous males in the room you’d rather date.”
“Later when they’re not around to hear my answer.” She replied. “We can have some girl time.”
“You mean it?” Ileana asked, shocked. “I’m going to have girl-talk with the grand duchess?”
“Can I come?” Katelyn asked.
“It’ll be past your bedtime.” Romana replied “And I know I can’t trust you to keep a secret.”
“I so could!” Katelyn replied “I am seven years old you know!” As if that one fact would make her statement any more credible.
“Katelyn, who’s in charge in this kitchen?” Romana asked.
“You are.” Katelyn replied, looking put out at one of the few rules Romana had ever imposed.
“And when is your bedtime?”
“At half past seven.”
“And what time is it now
?”
“Quarter to seven.”
“So what will you be doing after dinner?”
“Sleeping.” Katelyn replied, looking put out.
“Well done.” She replied, even as Marten chuckled. “It is not funny.” She told him, even as she brushed egg over the rim of a pastry shell.
“Yes, it is. It’s reason number one.” He explained, as if that made the whole thing make sense.
“You’ve lost me.”
“Of the reason’s you wouldn’t have me.” He explained.
“Because I put Katelyn to bed on time?”
“Because you like people who do your every whim.”
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“You’re being childish.” Romana informed him.
“So are you.” She just looked at him as if to say that he was proving her point. “Besides, I’m not fully elven; reason number two.”
“You’re not fully human either.” She snapped, then realised she’d made a mistake at the paling of his face. “Sorry.” She turned back to her cooking.
“It’s fine.” He replied, and she heard him lift the glass of wine she’d given him to his lips for a deep swig.
She popped the pies in the oven and began cutting vegetables, peeling carrots was quite therapeutic, she realised even as she heard further conversation carry on in the background.
In fact she got so relaxed, that when she turned the knife around to cut the carrots into sticks, she caught her finger resulting in a cut down to the bone.
“Oww.” She moaned, clutching it to her chest.
Immediately both of the men were by her side, voicing their concern.
“I’m fine.” She reassured them, “I’ve had worse. It’ll have healed by the time the pie’s come out the oven.” When they didn’t move, she sighed, she hated it when she had to get snappy because of the testosterone fuelled side of most races. “I’m not planning on bleeding on your carrots so get back to the table before I put your butts there myself.”
Marten looked like he wanted to protest but she glared at him until he moved. Keenan wasn’t so easily dissuaded, but held his hand out for the knife, intending to cut for her, she realised, giving it to him, even as she put her finger under the tap.
Romana's Freedom (Soul Merge Saga Book 1) Page 23
