Read Online The Servant's Heart by Missouri Dalton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Missouri Dalton
Ads: Link
I used as a marker and slipped the book under my pillow. The time chimed overhead, the prince was due back in another quarter hour and it would take that amount again for him to be cleaned up and upstairs in his rooms. With a good amount of time to myself, I chose to take a nap.
I knew I was dreaming, but it felt real. The damp of the floor under my hands, the sharp metallic scent of blood overlaying the scent of dirt and sewage. The squeaks of rats and the low-timbre laughter echoing from the corner of the room. A corpse lay under the man's feet. Brown hair a cascade across her face. Bruised flesh, blood. Her throat slashed out and her dress torn.
Bruises on her thighs, on her arms. Blood dripping down her leg.
He kept laughing.
Her eyes opened and she reached out for me. She reached for me with dead hands.
"Don't-- Terence -- don't--don't let them win."
"Anna!"
I awoke, her name on my lips and splashed water on my face. I checked the time, straightened my uniform -- the Jorian crest of a silver hawk with violet eyes and a scroll in its mouth flashed in the light -- and gathered a tray from the kitchen. I procured a venison pasty and a cup of mulled cider and headed up to the prince's chambers -- up three flights of slick stone stairs I'd nearly fallen down at least a dozen times already. His door was painted a bright blue to distinguish itself from the rainbow of colored doors in the hall. I approached on quiet feet, knocked softly and entered. I had to knock, the prince got irritated when I entered unannounced. Training in the arts of stealth was hard to erase, and frankly, I enjoyed being quiet on my feet. It gave me a sort of perverse pleasure to be able to sneak up on anyone I liked.
The prince wasn't alone; three of his friends were there with him: Dorn, a huge man with a full beard, Finn, a short fellow with a sort of twitch in his eye, and Loch, a tall slender man with flaming red hair. He had a thin blade in his hands, picking his nails. As well, his highness's strange pet -- a hawk like the one on the crest -- perched on the back of a chair, feathers fluffed out to dry. Thing belonged in the mews, not on the back of a chair.
I wrinkled my nose and ignored it.
The prince turned, his dark hair wet, likely from a bath and not the rain, and his clothes were fresh. He dressed simply: a white linen shirt, brown leggings of the finest leather and sturdy leather boots. His only jewelry was his wedding band and his signet ring. "Ah, Terence, just the man." His eyes were the same eerie shade of violet as his hawk's.
"Milady asked me to bring you this, your highness." I held the tray up a little higher.
"Of course, set it down." He gestured to a table close by.
I was getting a strange feeling. I'd been in the same room as all of these men before, but never had I gotten such rapt attention. I set down the tray and backed away from it.
"Come here a moment," the prince said. He pointed at the floor in front of him.
I was extremely suspicious, but I could not ignore his command. I stepped forward to the spot he had indicated.
He looked at me oddly and smiled. "You see, he is my size." He grabbed my shoulders, measuring out the span with his hands. I restrained from flinching, but the touch sent a jolt through me. Instinct to lash out had to be squashed down. "A touch taller maybe, but he's just as slender."
"Well, I hate to say it, but you're right Jas," Dorn said.
"You think no one will notice?" Loch asked.
"He'll have a mask on, and Father's cronies are off at his hunting lodge," the prince commented.
Now I was certain this had a bad smell about it.
"He can take my place at the masquerade, leaving us free and clear."
"Excuse me, but I do not think that is a good idea, begging your pardon, your highness," I said softly. "I cannot do such a thing. If I were discovered..."
The prince clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't be silly, Terence, no one will find out. Remember your place."
"I know my place; do you
I knew I was dreaming, but it felt real. The damp of the floor under my hands, the sharp metallic scent of blood overlaying the scent of dirt and sewage. The squeaks of rats and the low-timbre laughter echoing from the corner of the room. A corpse lay under the man's feet. Brown hair a cascade across her face. Bruised flesh, blood. Her throat slashed out and her dress torn.
Bruises on her thighs, on her arms. Blood dripping down her leg.
He kept laughing.
Her eyes opened and she reached out for me. She reached for me with dead hands.
"Don't-- Terence -- don't--don't let them win."
"Anna!"
I awoke, her name on my lips and splashed water on my face. I checked the time, straightened my uniform -- the Jorian crest of a silver hawk with violet eyes and a scroll in its mouth flashed in the light -- and gathered a tray from the kitchen. I procured a venison pasty and a cup of mulled cider and headed up to the prince's chambers -- up three flights of slick stone stairs I'd nearly fallen down at least a dozen times already. His door was painted a bright blue to distinguish itself from the rainbow of colored doors in the hall. I approached on quiet feet, knocked softly and entered. I had to knock, the prince got irritated when I entered unannounced. Training in the arts of stealth was hard to erase, and frankly, I enjoyed being quiet on my feet. It gave me a sort of perverse pleasure to be able to sneak up on anyone I liked.
The prince wasn't alone; three of his friends were there with him: Dorn, a huge man with a full beard, Finn, a short fellow with a sort of twitch in his eye, and Loch, a tall slender man with flaming red hair. He had a thin blade in his hands, picking his nails. As well, his highness's strange pet -- a hawk like the one on the crest -- perched on the back of a chair, feathers fluffed out to dry. Thing belonged in the mews, not on the back of a chair.
I wrinkled my nose and ignored it.
The prince turned, his dark hair wet, likely from a bath and not the rain, and his clothes were fresh. He dressed simply: a white linen shirt, brown leggings of the finest leather and sturdy leather boots. His only jewelry was his wedding band and his signet ring. "Ah, Terence, just the man." His eyes were the same eerie shade of violet as his hawk's.
"Milady asked me to bring you this, your highness." I held the tray up a little higher.
"Of course, set it down." He gestured to a table close by.
I was getting a strange feeling. I'd been in the same room as all of these men before, but never had I gotten such rapt attention. I set down the tray and backed away from it.
"Come here a moment," the prince said. He pointed at the floor in front of him.
I was extremely suspicious, but I could not ignore his command. I stepped forward to the spot he had indicated.
He looked at me oddly and smiled. "You see, he is my size." He grabbed my shoulders, measuring out the span with his hands. I restrained from flinching, but the touch sent a jolt through me. Instinct to lash out had to be squashed down. "A touch taller maybe, but he's just as slender."
"Well, I hate to say it, but you're right Jas," Dorn said.
"You think no one will notice?" Loch asked.
"He'll have a mask on, and Father's cronies are off at his hunting lodge," the prince commented.
Now I was certain this had a bad smell about it.
"He can take my place at the masquerade, leaving us free and clear."
"Excuse me, but I do not think that is a good idea, begging your pardon, your highness," I said softly. "I cannot do such a thing. If I were discovered..."
The prince clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't be silly, Terence, no one will find out. Remember your place."
"I know my place; do you
Similar Books
