by Sarina Dorie
Apparently not.
“I mind,” Errol said. “As does Grimback when you cause a maid to break plates.” Errol put on his fiercest face. “Furthermore, I suspect if you were to ask a maid first, you might find many of them do mind.”
Bodil glanced at the broken pottery on the floor. “Oh.”
The mess hall was unusually quiet. No doubt this was the most excitement these men had seen for days. Errol found he didn’t have to shout over voices to be heard. Everyone was listening. Good. Bodil would be their example of what not to do.
Errol spoke clearly so that all could hear. “The cost for the plate will be taken out of your wages instead of hers, you will clean up the mess, and you will clean the rest of the mess hall before the next shift comes in for midday meal.”
The young man grimaced and rolled his eyes. Apparently, this punishment wasn’t enough to appropriately cow him. No matter. Errol was only warming up.
“Now you will apologize to the young lady in question.”
Errol glanced over his shoulder. Ivy had edged closer to the exit. He beckoned her forward. Reluctantly she shuffled to his side, her chin ducked down.
The young man clenched his fists at his sides. “I apologize for startling you.” He emphasized the word in a snotty tone.
From Bodil’s body language and his haughty way of speaking, Errol knew the young man wasn’t sorry. Yet. He would be by the time Errol was through with him.
“You will not take liberties with women and touch them without their permission. If I hear about you, or any other soldier here making unwelcome advances on maidens, whether maid, soldier, or any other, I will personally whip you myself.” Errol leaned in, his voice low with threat. “Should I hear that you have retaliated against this young woman or any other for your own misconduct, I will see to it that you are whipped with twenty lashes.”
Bodil shook with fury, but he was smart enough to hold his tongue.
“Consider yourself fortunate I was lenient on you this time,” Errol said. “I’m only going to give you the additional consequence of cleaning the latrines.” Errol smiled. “On your day off.”
The young man’s eyes went wide with horror now. A few men snickered behind Errol.
“But, sir! You can’t! You aren’t even my commanding officer. Captain Helga is in charge of me.” True panic swam in his eyes.
Errol had finally hit on the proper motivation for the young man. It was too bad that ethics and manners couldn’t be inspired in a more intrinsic fashion, but this would have to do.
“For questioning your superiors and talking back, I’m now giving you two days of latrine duty.” Errol’s smile turned vicious. “And I’ll discuss transferring you to my unit with Captain Helga today.”
Errol turned to see how Ivy had taken the news, but she was gone.
* * *
“It’s about time someone put that vile worm in his place,” Captain Helga said over a drink of brandy in her office. Her Scandinavian accent was slight, almost undetectable, aside from when she was vexed.
“With all due respect, he’s in your unit. Shouldn’t that be your job?” Errol asked.
The two of them stood at the window in her office, overlooking the training grounds below. Helga was taller than Errol and looked like a Valkyrie. Once upon a time, he’d had a crush on her—before learning she was married.
“Think how the reprimand sounds coming from me as a woman, when I punish one of my men. I’m accused of being biased. I get labeled as being the bitch captain who doesn’t let my ‘men behave as men.’” She snorted.
“Who cares what your men say?” Errol said. “Mine call me a tyrant and a curmudgeon.” And worse.
She made a face. “It matters when it’s coming from the general.”
Errol reflected on what Ivy had gone through in the Raven Court. He’d always thought that on this side of the border things were different. The citizens living in the kingdom of the Silver Court were more civilized, but perhaps he’d only wanted them to be.
“It isn’t right,” he said. “It isn’t just.”
Already he’d experienced the “justice” of royalty. There were some matters he had no power over; however, this wasn’t one of them.
Helga rubbed at a scar on her cheek absently. “Sometimes I don’t know how you made it this far in the military being so clueless.” She elbowed him in the ribs good-naturedly. “Men like Bodil are more common than a leprechaun with a gold addiction. Do you know what it was like being the first openly female recruit in His Majesty’s guard? Do you know how many arseholes I had to punch in the face and put in their place to show them I wasn’t an easy target?” She flicked her long blonde braid over her shoulder. “It took me thrice as long to get here as it did any of the men in the royal guard. And we both know I have a better head on my shoulders than most of the other captains.”
“Except for me, of course,” Errol said.
“Especially better than you! Enlisted officers are the worst!” She clapped him on the back.
Errol chuckled at her insult, though there were barbs in her words, even if she didn’t mean it with hostility. He still felt uneasy about being an enlisted officer. There was a cost to privilege that he’d never foreseen. He would forever be in the king’s debt. That was the way the Faerie Realm worked. Eventually he would owe his sovereign a favor.
“The only reason I made it this far so fast in the ranks at all is because the king took an interest in me when I was young.” Errol still couldn’t believe his luck.
Both good and bad.
Someone had done him a favor once. Now Errol felt it his duty to pass on a kindness to someone else. Only he would do so out of altruism and compassion—counter to how the nobles around him behaved.
Errol was determined to make the world a better place.
* * *
The thing Errol would have liked to focus on was bringing the wrongdoers who had hurt his sister to justice. Yet he was stuck fixing the small problems of his new charge.
He supposed if he were going to make the world better, he would start small before moving on to his true desire.
Errol didn’t want Ivy working in a place that made her uncomfortable. The barracks obviously weren’t the best fit. He went to the castle kitchen to talk to the new head cook. Prince Beorhtsige had been concerned about Ivy preparing food for the royal family, but surely there were other duties scullery maids performed besides food preparations.
The moment Errol walked through the doorway, he was caught off guard by how familiar the kitchen looked. He had been there weeks before when he’d gone to learn more about his sister’s death, but now without his desolation blinding him, he truly noticed his surroundings. The same herbs dried from the ceiling in the corner. Flour dusted counters along the wall where pastries had been made. Platters were laid out with various culinary masterpieces befitting a palace of muses. A kitchen maid in a gray uniform that appeared no different from the ones maids wore twenty years ago arranged leafy garnishes around a glazed pheasant. Another maid scrubbed a pot in a large basin of water while another rolled out dough.
Errol inhaled deeply. Tantalizing aromas of spices mingled with rich meats. The scent of roasting meat and braised vegetables took him back to happier days. He could almost pretend that he was twenty years younger, and Alma was still here.
The truth of how false that was weighed his heart down.
Errol wandered deeper into the kitchen, pausing when he noticed Kendra—his former flame—scolding two kitchen maids next to the door of the larder. Alma and Kendra hadn’t gotten along—mostly on account of him. She was just as beautiful and youthful as she had been twenty years before—no surprise considering she was full-blooded Fae and would live a long life.
Errol imagined how awkward this conversation was going to be. He started to retreat, knowing he was already doomed to fail.
Kendra spotted him and grinned. “What’s this? I haven’t
seen that face for a while. What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”
Dread settled in Errol’s belly. If he had no alternative than to face Kendra, that was a fair question to ask.
What had he gotten himself into?
CHAPTER THREE
Old Flames and Lackluster Love
“Captain Errol, how good of you to drop in.” Kendra grinned. “You’ve come to the kitchen, and for once, I take it that doesn’t have anything to do with visiting your sister. And if it does, you’ve arrived a few weeks too late.”
The words lanced him to the core, though he composed his face into a mask of neutrality so she wouldn’t see his pain. Kendra had always been outspoken and insensitive. He hadn’t minded it when they’d been lovers, but it grated on him now, especially that she should speak so cavalierly of his sister’s death.
She placed her hands on her ample hips. “Am I to believe you’re here to see me?”
Errol had no idea how to begin this conversation. Already he could tell it wasn’t going to go well. One of the scullery maids, presumably one who had been friends with Alma, whispered something to Kendra. Errol imagined the entire kitchen knew he and his sister had been estranged. Being a source of gossip had always embarrassed him. Now was no different.
The head cook ignored the young woman. “Just so you know, Captain, I’m a married woman these days. So if you think you’re going to woo me and try to get me back into your bed—”
He cleared his throat. “Congratulations. I’m pleased to hear of your marriage.” Errol wondered whether her husband was an officer. Not that he kept track of Kendra and her life anymore, but it seemed as if he would have known if the man had been in the royal guard.
“Pardon me for intruding.” Errol inclined his head in apology. “I was hoping I could ask you a favor. In private.”
“Certainly, step into my office.” Kendra smirked and gestured to the larder. “It’s not like I’m busy preparing a meal.”
Errol ignored the sarcasm.
The larder was an immense room filled with shelves of preserves, pickled vegetables in earthenware cannisters, and baskets of fruit. Errol dodged around rabbits and fowl hanging from the ceiling. Kendra plopped onto a barrel, looking him up and down.
It made it that much more difficult that she was the one he had to ask this favor. “I need you to find an occupation for someone. A young woman.”
“Ah.” She waggled her brows. “Is this your latest love?”
“No.” He considered whether he should tell Kendra the truth. She had a runaway mouth, and she wasn’t one to keep silent about matters.
Instead he played the favor card, though he hated resorting to the tactic. “I found you work here in the castle when you were fired from your place of employment. It is my hope you will have enough charity in your heart to do the same for this lass.”
She crossed her arms, her bosom oozing out over her lowcut bodice. From her smirk, he suspected she’d done that on purpose because she knew he’d notice. He looked away.
“You did find me this job.” Kendra tucked a stray curl of blonde hair under her cap. “And I had to put up with your sister blathering on about you for years. First it was about how wonderful you were. Then it was about how she hated you. She made my life miserable for not being good enough for you when we were together—and more miserable after we broke it off.”
Errol didn’t know how to respond to that. It sounded like she was refusing, though he wasn’t certain why—other than spite.
He sighed in exasperation. “I can speak to the housekeeper about finding Ivy a position in the castle, but I had hoped to find her employment here. It’s what she’s used to, and I expect it’s where she’ll feel most comfortable. She’s currently working in the kitchen in the barracks, but there’s too much. . . .” He didn’t dare say too much chauvinism and grumpy old men spooking her. He didn’t know what to say. “It isn’t a good fit.”
“It’s too much work for her?” Kendra leaned against a shelf full of burlap bags and clay vessels. “Is she lazy? I used to be lazy—until your sister whipped me into shape.”
Errol couldn’t tell whether that was gratitude or anger in her eyes. He had never been able to read Kendra—though he hadn’t realized it until later. He had taken her friendliness to be affection and her indifference to be love. He supposed romance and love had never been his strengths.
“I don’t think a lack of work ethic is the problem.” Errol hated telling Kendra so much, but nothing else so far had worked. “She came from the Raven Court. She was sent to me as a gift—as retribution for what they did to Alma.” His throat tightened at his sister’s name.
Kendra tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? As a slave?”
“According to Prince Beorhtsige, yes.” He raised his chin, conviction radiating through him. “Though, I should think you would know me well enough to be aware that I do not believe in slavery.”
“So she’s some orphan slave from the Raven Court?” Her brows furrowed in concern.
Errol wasn’t sure whether Ivy was young enough to be considered an orphan, but she lacked family, so it was technically correct. He nodded. He waited for Kendra to refuse for the same reason Beorhtsige had. The prince would be vexed with Errol for going behind his back and getting her a job in the kitchen—if Errol succeeded. Though, Errol suspected the royal family were so far removed from hiring their own help that he didn’t expect any of them to ever find out about Ivy working in the kitchen. None of them had ever stepped a foot in the kitchen or servants’ hallways that he’d ever seen.
“Did I ever tell you my father was in the navy?” Kendra asked. “He was captured in a battle with the Raven Court. They didn’t kill him right away, though. They let one of the prisoners go so that he could report to King Viridios about what Queen Morgaine did to our soldiers.” She shivered and shook her head. “I don’t know how that court has any subjects left after what the royal family does to their own people, let alone their enemies.”
Kendra had never spoken about her father. Errol would have remembered if she had. He’d been in the navy once himself.
Kendra shrugged as if making up her mind. “I’ll try her out and see how she does. Just know, you owe me for this.”
Errol let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He suspected it was the other way around—technically, Kendra had been the one who had owed him a boon for getting her a job in the kitchen. But perhaps she thought taking pity on him and allowing him to court her twenty years back was compensation enough.
Errol grudgingly said the only polite thing he could in response. “That is generous of you.” He bowed his head in thanks, careful not to say the words out loud so that he wouldn’t need to formally owe her a favor.
* * *
Errol brought Ivy to the castle kitchen that day to begin her new work. The entire time, Ivy glanced at Errol, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. He didn’t want to leave her without making sure Kendra was going to be a kinder employer than Grimback.
Kendra shooed him away. “Be off with you. Your presence is disrupting my staff.” She waved a hand at a group of young ladies clustered together, giggling in the corner. “Look what the arrival of a handsome man does to those unmarried twits.” She rolled her eyes.
Handsome? Errol wasn’t sure about that. Then again, Kendra wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t think it was true.
Errol bid farewell to Ivy and left her in Kendra’s care.
He wanted to go to the kitchen and check on Ivy, but she was obviously uncomfortable around him. He didn’t want to crowd her, so he let her be. Kendra didn’t report that it wasn’t working out, so Errol suspected all was well. Of course, he had also suspected there were no problems until Norris had alerted him.
* * *
With each day that passed, Errol’s restlessness increased. He loathed his own ineptness to do anything useful to stop the same scoundrels
from hurting others. His thoughts toward his king grew ungenerous, bordering on disloyal.
One evening after several unhappy weeks, Errol heard a soft tap at the door of his chamber. When he used his Fae senses and stretched his awareness beyond the wood, he sensed an unfamiliar Amni Plandai magic. Upon his opening the door, Ivy stepped back like a skittish rabbit.
His momentary delight at seeing her gave way to concern when he noticed the apprehension on her face. “Hello, Ivy. How can I help you?”
She held out a small purse. “They made a mistake.”
He took it from her and examined the contents. “What’s this?” It was a meager amount of money, but he couldn’t fathom why she was giving it to him.
“It’s my pay.” She stared at the floor. “I told the cook they should have paid you, not me, but she told me I could bring it to you myself if I didn’t believe her.”
He tried to see into her face, but it was impossible with the way she ducked her chin down. “I don’t understand.”
“I am your slave, aren’t I?” She spoke so quietly, her words were a mere whisper. “My earnings are yours.”
Errol could understand how she might have thought that after hearing Prince Beorhtsige rant. It made sense why she might have feared him if she thought he was her master. “I’m sorry. I believe I’ve given you the wrong impression of your situation. If I had known, I would have assured you sooner. You aren’t my slave.” He held the purse out to her.
She edged back.
“I only insisted you were mine so the prince would listen and would have a reason to leave you be. He’s rather old-fashioned. I’m afraid he sees people as tools and property rather than, well, people.” He shook the purse when she didn’t take it.
“Even if I’m not your slave, I do owe you a favor.” She nodded to the purse.
Errol could understand that anxiety. The oppressive weight of what he owed King Viridios for taking an interest in his career and making him an officer was such that he still wondered when he would be required to pay.
