by Amber Jaeger
The king’s face broke into a brilliant smile Calia had never seen before and she jerked to a stop.
“No, no,” he insisted. “There is the grace I was hoping for.” He straightened up from his desk and came around to clasp her shoulders.
She shook at his sudden closeness and forced herself to look up into his face and at the dreadful mask. “You are ready,” he breathed.
“For what?” she asked with a shaking voice.
“Court.”
His words inspired less than courage in her. As king of the region he was judge, jury and executioner of all. And very, very harsh. It was rare for a town’s person to be unable to settle a personal problem without the king’s interference for fear of his harsh judgment.
But other crimes happened and so she found herself shaking at the knees, two steps behind and two steps to the right of him while he sat in his throne and waited for the accused.
Calia held the silver tray just as Marchello had and curiously it held a rose. A real rose.
She had gasped when Abelina had handed it to her but there was no time to ask any questions.
The sweet fragrance wafted up to her nose and she breathed it in deeply as she waited for the far doors on the end of the throne room to open.
Finally they did and the Cold King straightened up. They both observed a young man and woman enter the room. The long walk to the throne seemed especially taxing on her and several times the young man leaned down to whisper in her ear and coax her along.
Calia watched with interest and fear.
Finally they made it to the throne and stood before it, shaking.
The Cold King finally interrupted the uneasy silence. “You are charged with stealing from the palace.”
The woman began to shake harder but the young man put his hand over hers and took a step forward. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And how do you answer?”
Calia could see the anxiety and fear plain on his face, obscuring his identity until it flashed in her head. He was Konstantin, the butcher’s son. She could not place the young woman but she was willowy and beautiful, a perfect match for a wealthy and handsome young man.
“It is true.”
The young woman began to sob but stopped suddenly when the king held his hand up. “And why should I not hang you?”
Calia swallowed hard. What could he have possibly stolen to deserve such a harsh judgment?
“I did it for love,” Konstantin said bravely.
Calia did not need to see the Cold King’s face to know his mouth curled into a cruel smile. “But you still stole.”
“Only a flower!” the girl burst out. “It was just a flower! Surely we can repay you, in some way?”
The king’s gaze did not shift to her. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to grow those flowers?”
Calia looked back and forth in confusion. The only flower of true importance in their village was the rose. And it hadn’t grown there for years. The custom of asking for a woman’s hand and presenting a real rose had been replaced by asking for her hand with a paper one. Calia had never even seen a real one until that day.
Konstantin finally shifted. “I apologize, Your Majesty. But nothing short of the real thing would convince her father to let her go.” He looked up, pleading. With surprise, Calia saw he was begging her as much as he was begging the king.
“And so you stole?” The Cold King was ruthless.
“You do not offer them for sale, even though you have so many,” Konstantin accused.
“Because they are mine!” the king roared.
If not for hours of practicing, Calia would have jumped back as the petitioners did.
The woman edged around her fiancé and knelt gracefully at the Cold King’s throne. “I beg you, my lord, to see our plight. Nothing could convince my father other than a real rose and nothing could convince you to part with one. What else could we do in the face of true love?”
“You always have a choice,” the king said quietly. “Ten years in prison for the theft.”
Konstantin, his fiancé and Calia all gasped.
“Surely you cannot mean it!” the woman cried.
“I do,” the king replied blandly. “It was my flower and he stole it. He should pay the price.”
The woman fell sobbing into Konstantin’s arms and Calia’s heart ached for them. Yes, they had stolen but the judgment would take everything they had hoped for away from them.
“Unless,” the Cold King intoned, “unless my servant can think of a more suitable punishment.”
Calia’s face went red then cold. She was expected to render judgment? Or was he toying with her, toying with them all?
“Your Majesty?” she asked in a small voice.
He leaned back in the chair to look at her. “What would your judgment be?”
From that angle she could see his eyes and saw that though they appeared to be a warm green they were as empty and cold as the rest of him. “Think carefully,” he murmured and she knew her judgment must be fitting or else the wrath would fall on her head.
“First I must see the roses you speak of,” she said, trying to hedge around what was sure to be her impending doom. Visions of the cell she had spent her first days in came unbidden and she followed the king on shaking knees when he stood to lead the way outside.
On the west side of the castle was a private garden and the king pulled a key from his pocket to unlock a gate and usher them in.
Calia’s breath caught in her chest as she drew it all in.
Roses grew everywhere—in the garden, along the walls, up onto the castle itself. They rioted in color and fragrance and she instantly knew how one flower could be so valued. A glance at the two lovers showed how much the flowers meant to them and a glance at the king showed how fiercely protective of his garden he was.
But deep inside, she was angry. Surely the king knew how important the rose was to all the villagers. And clearly he knew that they had access to none while he had an entire garden to himself.
His lips were lined with happiness and joy as he looked upon his creations and Calia hated to interrupt that but did anyway.
“You grew these, Your Majesty?” she asked.
“Every single one,” he responded.
“So they are your property,” she confirmed.
“They are,” he agreed, pleased with his servant.
Calia turned to the young lovers. “And you trespassed and stole to have a rose for proposal?” she asked, willing her voice to be strong.
The young fiancé glared while Konstantin hung his head. “I alone did. For love.”
Calia nodded and hoped she sounded mature and wise. “Then you shall pay a fair price for the flower.”
The king and Konstantin both started and narrowed angry eyes at her. She held her hand up. “I believe you own a rare pocket watch.” She prayed it was he and not some other wealthy young man that had always been flashing the gold piece around.
Konstantin gulped and grabbed at his jacket. “I do.”
“Then it will suffice as payment,” Calia said, making her voice strong.
“But it was my fathers, and his father’s before that!” he protested.
Calia squared her shoulders, praying the young man would see her reasoning. “And it is precious to you, just as the kings flowers are precious to him. You will pay him with your watch or with your time.”
She eyed the fiancé and saw tears of gratitude in her eyes. Konstantin saw it as well and gave a broken hearted sigh before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the watch.
“You are worth more than any possession, even my grandfather’s pocket watch,” Calia heard him whisper to her.
She barely avoided rolling her e
yes. A pocket watch, although much loved, was nothing compared to lost time. Ten years in a cell as payment for a flower would have meant an end to their love and dreams of a family. Even if the fiancé stayed true to him she would most likely not conceive at an advanced age.
But it still hurt the young man to lose it and the king saw that. “I will accept your watch as payment,” he finally said. “And I hope that you will share with others so inclined to steal from me to impress their loves that I will always take what is most valuable.” Again Calia narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. Of course the Cold King would value a trinket over love or time.
With that he excused the young couple from the garden and went to sit on a bench in the sunshine. Calia stood with her arms wrapped around her chest, unsure of what to do. Finally the king waved her over to sit beside him.
She sat as far from him as she could, intensely disliking being so close. Even seated, the king towered over her and she could faintly smell his soap and the mint leaves he liked to chew. She was surprised to feel the warmth coming off him in waves. She had been sure he had been carved from ice.
The king toyed with the watch for several minutes before throwing it in the dirt. “Excellent judgment,” he finally said.
The poor treatment of the man’s heirloom made her heart sink a little. “You think so?” she asked.
“I do. It is a true and just punishment.”
Calia shook her head. “For a flower.”
The king looked at her sideways and she had to work to avoid gazing into the hateful, glittering mask. “Flower or gold, he stole from me.”
Calia glowered. “You know our engagement custom is to present a rose during proposal. We cannot grow roses in the valley! I’ve never even seen a real one. So we make do with paper flowers while our king sits on a garden full of real ones.”
The king sat back against the bench. “I do. I work hard to grow those flowers. Each one is a seedling I plant myself. I look over them, make sure they are tended to and weeded, make sure they are given water when there is no rain. I’ve worked very hard to get them grow in the cold mountain weather. Why should it be tolerable for someone to steal them from me?”
Calia gritted her teeth. “No one should steal. But neither should anyone hoard. If you can provide engagement flowers than you should do so. I am not saying allow people to steal them or give them away for free. But if you have so many you should be able to allow a few to go for a fair price and a good reason.”
“And what do you think is a good price? A gold coin? Ten gold coins?”
Calia did not hesitate. “Something that is precious to them. The price would be different for everyone. Not everyone could afford to pay with money but they could pay with something else that is dear.”
He sat for a long time before saying, “I will think on it. Now it is time for you to retire.”
She nodded in relieved agreement and made her way to the door but a faint, musical sound stopped her and she looked around. At the very far end of the garden light reflected off a rippling surface onto the stone wall. She edged towards it, fascinated by the rushing sound.
In a corner almost totally obscured by roses was a pool carved out of the rock. She could see where the warm water flowed in from a natural underground spring and where it flowed out in the back. The holes were cleverly placed so they created a natural current and a person would have to be adept at swimming to stay afloat.
“You must never come here.” The king was so close his breath tickled her ear and she jerked away. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. She expected anger but curiously, he seemed afraid. “This is my own personal space. Whatever you do, never come here again.”
She swallowed and nodded, trying not to look around. He eased his grip a little but didn’t let go as he led her back into the castle. He said nothing the entire way back to her room and Calia wondered what was so special about his pool that it would anger and frighten him that she knew of its existence.
“You did well,” he finally grated out, as if giving her a compliment pained him.
And with he left her at her door and slammed through his.
Calia let herself into her room and sat shakily on the bed, wrestling with her emotions. While it was true she was a slave to a mad king, at least she was no longer just mother’s chore girl. At least she was no longer invisible. Right?
Chapter Six
Although it had felt like winter for several weeks already, when Calia woke up the next morning she could feel it was about to truly descend. The sky was milky white and sharp but still. She rushed to the window, disappointed to still just see the crumbling fall leaves mixed with a thin layer of frost.
She dressed in her new favorite gown, a soft violet one with a silky undershirt and slipped on her blessedly comfortable boots. She would have to find a way to thank Marchello.
The kitchen was a flurry of activity and she stood in the entrance for several minutes, shocked.
All of the servants were there, something she hadn’t seen before and Cato was flinging out plates of hot eggs and toast to all. Marchello and Abelina had cornered Jos at a small table and were reviewing a long list. He looked miserable and was somehow already covered in dust and dirt. Klaribel and Iago were at the counter, arguing over what could and could not go in her horse barn.
“No, the barn is for animals, not for things,” she was saying.
Iago brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her tight braid and Calia’s eyes nearly bugged out. “It’s only for a time, my dear, until we go through some of the wares. Come now, we do this every year and the horses are always fine.”
Cato caught her gawking and barked out, “Come get your breakfast and then the kings, we have a lot of work to do today.”
Stunned, she grabbed her plate of food and shoveled it in while the cook fixed the kings tray.
“What’s going on?” she asked around a steaming mouthful of egg. Abelina frowned at her and she quickly closed her mouth.
“Our last shipment before winter comes today, the biggest of the year. Here’s the tray, hurry now!”
Calia picked up the tray and then hesitated. “But what do I do, how do I help?”
Marchello cleared his throat. “You do whatever the king tells you to.”
Calia gulped and nodded.
She wanted to rush into his rooms and ask the king what was happening but some of her training was finally beginning to set in and so she made herself calmly knock, enter and place his tray as gracefully as she could. For once he wasn’t scribbling at his desk but seemed to be waiting for her.
Uneasy, she set everything out and served him then took her place on the other side of the table.
“Can I get you anything else, Your Majesty?”
He was quiet for a moment and she fought the urge to look at him. Finally he asked, “Do you know what is happening today?”
She nodded then caught herself. “Yes, Your Majesty. Um, today a large shipment arrives?”
He sighed at her indecision. “Yes, a very large shipment, one meant to hold us over for the entirety of winter, arrives today.” He was silent then added, “You may ask any questions you have.”
Her mind raced but she wisely assumed he welcomed only questions relating to the shipment. “What would you have me do, Your Majesty?”
He smiled, pleased with her. “There are many things coming today, food, fabric, spices and even some livestock. But in all of that there is a box, a very special box, and I want you and you alone to retrieve it and bring it straight to me.”
Calia was a little disappointed with the meager task but did not let it show. “Yes, Your Majesty. What does the box look like?”
“It’s this big,” he said, holding his hands about a foot apart. “It will be polished mahogany and will
bear this design on the lid.” He held up a letter and tapped at the intricate swirling at its head.
Calia squinted and memorized it. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then see to it,” he said, and dismissed her with the wave of his hand.
The kitchen was empty when she came back downstairs so she followed the sounds of chaos out into the court yard.
“Hold!” a man was yelling and several animals neighed and snorted in response.
The sight was overwhelming. Calia counted ten heavily laden wagons drawn by huge horses and led by giant men. She had never seen horses, or men, so big and she watched in wonder as Klaribel reached up to one of the animals and petted its velvety nose. The animal leaned its head into her and nearly knocked her to the ground.
The stable master just laughed. “One day, Hos, you are going to be delivering some of these animals to me.”
The huge man holding the reins gave a grin, revealing some missing teeth. “Not in your dreams, missy, these animals are our bread and butter.”
“Watch it,” Jos hissed, roughly brushing past Calia.
She jumped and apologized but he had already rushed off with an armload.
Uncertain of who to ask, she finally approached the man Klaribel had called Hos and touched his arm.
He turned and she backed away, fully realizing how much bigger than her he was. His long unruly hair twined with his long, unruly beard and the furs he wore only emphasized his mass.
“Excuse me, sir,” she squeaked out and he roared with laughter.
The other men laughed with him and she shrunk back. His riotous laughing slowed and he wiped a tear from his eye. “Sir? That’s the best I’ve heard all year. What can I do for you, little missy?”
Calia gave a tentative smile, warmed by his kindness. “I am looking for a box for my master.”
