* * *
"You're taking a comesula injured during the attacks?" Glinda had hands on her hips as she glared at Jayd's brother.
"He cooks very well and since he can't speak, he can't scold me," Garde smiled. He was irritating Glinda, which suited him very well. Long ago, more than twelve hundred years, in fact, he'd taught Glinda. She'd learned how to fight from him. He'd also taught her how to skip and write and many other things High Demons were expected to know. He'd angered her, too, when he told her what her life would be as a High Demon female. She'd skipped right off the planet and had gone missing for a very long time, until his brother found her by accident. She had absolutely no respect for Gardevik or his position as Jayd's Prime Minister, and Garde didn't mind in the least.
"You said I could choose my guards and commons; therefore Niff is coming with me. Good luck on getting those mashed potatoes you like so well," Garde grinned.
"I can still throw things at you and I won't miss," Glinda snapped, her blue eyes flashing a warning at Gardevik Rath.
"Then I will leave you now before the projectiles fly," Garde was still grinning. "I will inform Cheedas that Niff is coming with me. That ought to anger him enough that you'll not get a decent meal for a week." Gardevik left Glinda's quarters, laughing when he heard her shouting, "Jaydevik, come and kill your brother for me!"
* * *
Orliff was upset; I could tell immediately, as he gestured for me to fold and pack my clothing into a shapeless bag. I offered him a puzzled glance as he did his best to explain something to me, but my limited vocabulary prevented me from understanding much of it. He said Niff several times, the word go and somewhere in all that he said Baetrah. Were they sending me to the Southern Continent? To the volcano? I thought it was dangerous there. There was probably ash to be dealt with, and none of my borrowed clothing went well with blackish-gray. A strange comesula came in, dressed in a palace guard's uniform. He seemed to be asking if I were ready. He also had more clothing and a pair of boots in his hands, which he handed off to Orliff. Orliff gestured for me to wear one of the new uniforms, so I went to the bathroom to change.
* * *
"He'll lose that modesty quickly when we travel through the deserted areas," Veris, captain of the common guard grumbled as Niff walked out of the bathroom, dressed in the uniform and boots Veris supplied.
"He is not whole," Orliff snapped. "If an entire shop had fallen on your head, I would hope others might be sympathetic to your plight. Neither I nor my instructor thinks this is a good idea and your taking of Niff goes against Darvul's better judgment."
"I would not take him," Veris snapped back, "but Gardevik is demanding it. He wants Niff to cook for him and be his valet while we are on this mission for the Queen." Orliff was still grumbling when Niff was instructed to follow Veris out of the suite.
* * *
How had things come to this? I was wondering that for at least the tenth time as we loaded things into wagons (the comesuli and me; none of the High Demons thought to lift a finger). It didn't bother me to lift the heavy bags of flour or any of the crates, though if I caught anyone watching, I pretended to need help. The animals hitched to the wagons resembled oxen, with four short horns instead of two, like the ones I'd always seen. There were comesuli drivers for the wagons, and they would be tending the oxen. The comesuli in uniform (and that included me), were there to act as backup for the High Demons, especially in their dealings with other comesuli.
Midmorning arrived before we were loaded up and on the road, and as I was now considered Gardevik's private cook and personal servant, I rode in the wagon that carried his things. And he had a lot. My duffle bag of clothing and personal belongings were lost in a corner of that wagon. Most of the comesuli troops walked, but they switched off with those who rode from time to time, so everyone could get a rest. The High Demons had horses to ride. Yeah, same old horse-type horses Earth had. I was grateful to learn I didn't have to look after Gardevik's horse; somebody else would do that.
Altogether, there were six High Demons, not counting Gardevik, twenty comesuli troops, six wagon drivers and seven grooms to tend the horses for a total of forty. We left Veshtul behind after two hours, and the road we traveled outside the city sure needed work. It made me think of the Romans and how they'd built roads as they'd marched along. Somebody sure needed to work on this one as we moved over it. It also made me think of Gavin, and that made me sad. For him, I'd been gone three hundred years. I was probably a distant memory to him, which made me feel worse. The grief over René and Greg's loss was still fresh for me too, although Franklin was gone as well unless Merrill had talked him into allowing the turn. I had to force myself to think of other things before I broke down and wept.
The wagon I rode in was enclosed, but the driver didn't mind if I sat up front with him so I could see the country we were passing through. He knew I was recovering and spent the day pointing things out and naming them. I could have hugged him when he did that. His name was Corin, I learned, and he was a patient soul. When we stopped for the night, it was in the middle of nowhere and Gardevik got a steak grilled over a campfire, along with fresh asparagus I found growing wild near the road. He also got biscuits cooked in an iron skillet, which I served with butter and honey. Larevik, the High Demon captain, came over and had what was left of the biscuits, drizzling honey over them while he and Gardevik talked.
I cleaned my pans and dishes, made sure Gardevik didn't want anything else to eat and got his bed ready in the wagon. It only hit me then that I didn't know where I was supposed to sleep. I went to ask Corin, as best I could.
He understood quickly when I mimed sleeping, pointing to a spot at the foot of Gardevik's sleeping pad and blankets. I was going to sleep there on a thin mat, with a blanket and small pillow. I nodded my thanks to Corin, who was bedding down beneath the wagon. I discovered quickly what being a High Demon's personal servant meant. Gardevik stripped, went to bed naked and watched lazily as I brushed dust from his clothing. I wiped his boots off and put everything away before going to bed.
Gardevik was completely uninhibited, parading about as if he were proud of his endowments. I'm not saying he shouldn't feel proud over what he had or how he looked. It was damned embarrassing, however. I sighed softly, told myself to get used to it and huddled under my blanket inches away from his feet.
We stopped in a small city on the second night and had rooms to sleep in—at least the High Demons did, and since I was Gardevik's personal servant, I slept in a corner of his room on a small cot. The High Demons were also served dinner by our host, while the comesuli made do for themselves. Garde grumbled about the food afterward, but I didn't understand half his words. He got a bath (we both did), but his came first and I saw to his clothing before cleaning up afterward. He didn't bother me and was snoring softly when I came out. I had my cotton pajamas on—that's what I slept in, and he never looked at me twice anyway. Just as well; had he paid attention, he might have noticed a few things. To him, I was a common demon and nothing else.
The following two nights were spent on the road and Larevik invited himself to dinner both nights. I made fried chicken for them the first night and smothered steak the second. Gardevik was begging for biscuits on the second night, but he called them indu nera, or round breads. He got indu nera, which was quite good with the smothered steak. I don't know how they kept their meats cold on the road but they had some way to do it, and I figured it wasn't local technology. Didn't matter; I was happy to have the cold meat and fresh produce they carried, and each town or city we rode through provided fresh supplies.
Gardevik asked our host in the next village for the run of his kitchen, sending me in to cook for him and the others. Some of the comesuli staff helped, and chicken and dumplings were the result of that collaboration. Apple pies waited for dessert; our host had apples in a basket he intended to give us for our trip. Many of those were baked into pies and every crumb disappeared.
* * *
&
nbsp; "It's useless—he can't write or speak to give you the recipe—he only remembers how to cook and we are very thankful for that," Gardevik informed his host, who begged to have instructions for making apple pies written down.
"Will he ever remember, do you think?" Garde's High Demon host asked.
"No idea. He sustained a head injury in the attacks and we have lost hope that he will fully recover. I would like to know from whom he learned his cooking skills and why we never heard of some of these dishes before. Perhaps it was a closely guarded family secret," Garde answered. He was quite proud of his assistant, although he kept that information to himself.
* * *
We'd been on the road more than a week before I received my first taunt. Honestly, I expected it before then, but I was Garde's chief cook and bottle washer, so that's why it probably took so long. It wasn't one of the High Demons, either, which surprised me. It was a comesula—one of the guards.
"Difik," he muttered, when I showed up to get the evening's ration of meat and vegetables to cook. I was now serving Gardevik, Larevik, and Larevik's next in line. Difik was one of the words I actually knew. As best I could translate, it meant idiot, or even slow idiot. If I'd known how to call him shithead, I would have. I didn't know how and it would blow my cover anyway. I ignored him, collected my supplies and went back to Garde's camp.
* * *
"He needs a haircut," Veris's lieutenant declared. "Lord Gardevik has more important things on his mind and does not need to be bothered with this."
Veris carefully weighed Breth's claims about the little common who couldn't speak. "I suppose you intend to correct the situation?" Veris crossed arms over his chest.
"With your permission. His hair is too long and appears untidy. It presents the wrong image for the Raoni's troops."
"But that one is not of the Raoni's troops," Veris pointed out. "He is recovering from a head injury."
"A haircut is not harmful in the least," Breth declared. "And he will look better afterward."
"Fine, go and get him," Veris muttered.
* * *
The one who'd called me difik came to get me shortly before bedtime that evening. "Come," he demanded. I had no idea how to tell him that I didn't want to come anywhere with him. I watched him warily as he led me through camp. Veris, the one who'd pulled me away from Orliff at the palace, stood waiting. He mimed cutting hair to me. That stopped me in my tracks. I'd worked so hard to get my hair to the length it was. It barely touched my shoulders and was still quite curly as a result. Most comesuli kept their hair short—it was easier to take care of, I suppose, but I wasn't a comesula. I wanted to keep my hair and grow it longer. I wanted it back to the length it was before I'd tried to give myself to the sun.
I was shaking my head violently at Veris, doing my best to tell him I wanted nothing to do with a haircut. He was motioning for me to come and sit down. I shook my head again and tried to walk away. That's when I was grabbed.
* * *
"Don't hurt him!" Veris shouted as Breth and another comesula grabbed Niff's arms, forcing him to a nearby stump. Niff was frightened and struggling in their grasp. Veris was beginning to think the haircut a bad idea, but he'd already given permission. Niff was resisting and he hadn't expected that. At other times, Niff had cooperated when asked to do something.
"Get shackles!" Breth commanded and another comesula came running with the requested chain bracelets. Niff was still fighting Breth and Weld, so the third comesula locked the shackles on the small common's wrists, tightening them. The chain between the bracelets was very short—only a few links—and still the little common had to be held down on the stump. Breth accepted the shears from someone else.
Niff's eyes were wide and tears came when Breth made the first cut. Reddish-blond curls dropped to the ground.
"Cut it well or you'll be chained," Veris growled at Breth. The little common was weeping as Breth kept snipping.
* * *
"What happened?" Gardevik demanded as his little common rushed past, weeping and wiping his face on a sleeve. Veris had followed along in case an explanation was needed.
"Breth pointed out that he needed a haircut," Veris stood before Gardevik.
"And did Niff agree to this?" Garde asked.
"He didn't want it," Veris replied, wondering if he shouldn't have thought this through before granting permission.
"And he sat there and let you do it anyway?"
"Well, we did have to shackle him and hold him down," Veris didn't like where the conversation was going.
"You shackled my cook to force him to get a haircut?" Garde didn't like Veris's explanation.
"He didn't present the proper image as your personal servant," Veris mumbled, repeating Breth's words to him.
"Don't you think I should decide what my personal servant's proper image should be?" Smoke curled from Garde's nostrils. Veris recognized that as a warning sign. Any High Demon blowing smoke was angry, and an angry High Demon was never far from their Thifilathi.
"My apologies, High Lord. We made a mistake."
"Do not lay your hands on Niff again without my permission," Garde snarled.
"Yes, High Lord." Veris wanted to run to get away from Gardevik, but he walked away instead, in an effort to retain his dignity.
* * *
They'd cut my hair. They'd cut my fucking hair. Just snipped it right off while I was chained and held down. If they'd known I could have snapped those chains with a flick of my wrist, they might not have put them on me in the first place. I was learning my lesson—not all comesuli were kind. They were just like any other people, I guess. I wiped tears off my face and went to find Garde's mirror—he kept one to groom his hair.
The image that stared back at me made me want to weep again. That asshole had butchered my hair. It was an inch in length now, and looked horribly uneven. I wanted to mist the jackass away and drop him in the nearest lake, harboring hope that it might contain crocodiles or large, comesula-eating fish. No way could I fix this. I was stuck with the worst haircut imaginable. I could have done a better job if I'd cut it myself. Fuck. Fuck to the twelfth power.
Gardevik climbed into the wagon later; I took his clothes and boots from him, as I always did. Tearstains still showed on my cheeks, but Garde never looked at me anyway. He could compete with Gavin in looks—dark-brown hair, darker eyes and a handsome enough face, and all that was matched with a body most men on Earth would kill to get. High Demons seemed to have it naturally. I'm sure Kifirin the asshole had seen to that when he'd made them, all those years ago. Kifirin. If he was here now, I'd slap him into next week, I was so mad. Griffin too. They both had a lot to answer for. Maybe that's why they hadn't gone looking for me; I'd served my purpose and now they had no desire to listen to the vampire whine.
Perhaps I was supposed to be bigger than that and understand how I'd had a higher calling or something—that I was supposed to be one of those long-suffering heroines the books all praised. I wasn't anything like that. I'd been birthed for a specific reason—to keep the peace between werewolves and vampires, destroy Xenides and then save High Demon and comesuli ass. One of those comesuli had just chopped off my hair and chained me up to do it. My head looked like someone had taken a weed trimmer to it. I sure hoped his ass didn't need saving again, because I might have second thoughts.
* * *
"Griffin nearly went crazy when he learned that Lissa's memorial wasn't planned for another year," Kiarra was as tactful as possible while speaking with Jayd.
"But we have no idea how this news will affect the commons; they're only now climbing out of the rubble from the attack," Jayd defended his and Garde's decision. "If we tell them the hope they've prayed and waited for is now dead, who knows what will happen?"
"You mean they might stop serving your dinner for a day or two?" Griffin appeared and he was angry. "My daughter died defending this planet and this is the thanks you give her?" Pheligar folded in, as Griffin might have to be restrai
ned.
"We had no idea that's what happened until after the fact," Jayd snapped, his Thifilathi becoming angry as well. Smoke poured from Jayd's nostrils as he glared at Griffin.
"So now that it's over and your posterior and your planet have survived, she is of no consequence?" Griffin shouted in disbelief.
"I didn't say that," Jayd held out a hand, attempting to calm himself. "I am merely working to keep things running smoothly on the planet your daughter saved for us. Do you want it thrown into chaos? We have refugees from the Southern Continent because the volcano erupted for days. The crops we normally get from those farms will not be delivered. We are facing shortages as a result. What do you think I should do?"
"Not a fucking thing!" Griffin shouted and folded away.
"Lord Demon," Pheligar addressed Jayd quietly, "if one of your daughters sacrificed herself to save your planet, you would be wailing to the heavens over it. I will withdraw my protection around the stockade, as will my son Renegar. You are on your own." Pheligar folded away.
"You heard my Larentii mate," Kiarra said. "I wouldn't look to the Saa Thalarr for help in the future." She also disappeared. Jayd cursed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Jaydevik, why did you not consult with me before making this decision?" Glinda's voice was soft and angry. She stood in the doorway to the King's private study, where the meeting with Kiarra had taken place. Griffin and Pheligar's appearance had come unexpectedly. Now, Jayd knew Glinda had somehow escaped her suite and heard the entire conversation.
"Garde and I thought it would be for the best," Jayd attempted to defend himself.
"You have cut us off, that is what you have done," Glinda's voice was louder now. "I am helpless, because I am pregnant. Saa Thalarr cannot use their power in this condition—it will harm the children. We could have asked for supplies to be brought in; Kiarra would not let the planet starve. Yet you have alienated her and the rest of them as a result. Are you truly so coldhearted, Jaydevik? You disappoint me." Glinda whirled and walked away from him, slamming the study door forcefully.
Blood Queen (Blood Destiny, #6) Page 6
