Chapter 9

Light steps reverberated off the stone floor in the endless hallway, her was path lit only by one small candle. Daelia held the basket she carried tightly against her left hip, leaving the other hand free to carry the yellow, dripping candle. Through the narrow slits set deep into the stone wall, she could see that the sun was just barely beginning to rise. She yawned, aware of the late evening she and the rest of the servants had endured the night before. Thank goodness the feast had only lasted one night, and most of the guests had departed afterwards. Only a few were housed temporarily in the guest rooms, sleeping off the effects of their ale.

After six months as the cook’s assistant, she was just now beginning to grow accustomed to life in the home of young Lord Eliam Vitalus and his elder sister Lady Livea. At least, she acknowledged thankfully, she could find her way through the maze of halls, corridors, and never-ending rooms without assistance.

At the end of the hallway, she set her basket down long enough to open the heavy wooden door that led to the Cook’s Hall. The east wing of the castle housed the kitchens, washroom, pantry, various work rooms, and the cook’s personal quarters. Beneath these rooms, in the cool underbelly of the castle, ran the wine cellar, vegetable cellar, and meat room, accessed only by the trapdoor in the pantry.

She entered the kitchen where a huge fire already roared in the fireplace, the serving boy Bren prodding the logs with an iron poker. While the master and mistress slept soundly in the quiet western section of the castle, the Cook’s Hall had already been a bustle of activity for nearly an hour.

“Leave them linens here and go help Bren collect the eggs. Don’t think ‘is ‘ead’s on quite straight this mornin’” Cook directed her as she started towards the door leading to the washroom.

Daelia plopped the heavy basket of soiled linens on the rough plank table, smiling to the girl who came out of the door she had been about to enter. Briden, Bren’s older sister, grinned back in her usual merry way, plucking up the linens and hauling them off to be washed. As the head washerwoman, Briden was a very sturdy, capable girl whom Daelia had taken to right away. Daelia often lent a hand in the washroom, scrubbing and wringing out table clothes, sheets, and clothing, all the while laughing at the wit and wisdom of the first female friend she had ever had.
Bren led the way out into the courtyard, where the morning air chilled Daelia through her woolen dress and the cold mud covered her bare feet. It was at times like these when she sorely missed the warmth of her deer-skin boots and leggings. On occasion, she still wore her boots, but when the other servants went bare footed, she saw no reason to be different.

She noticed the paleness of the boy’s face walking beside her. “You tried too much of the ale last night, didn’t you?”

Bren’s glanced at her guiltily, forehead wrinkled as he put his hand over his stomach. “Don’t tell Briden.”

“She’s probably already noticed your green face. Besides, you should have listened to her.”

“I know; you don’t have to tell me!” he growled, “But Kinney had a pint and he said it wouldn’t harm nothin’.”

Kinney, the stable master, was also two-hundred pounds heavier and had been drinking the stuff for forty years. Daelia just shook her head, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth as Bren kicked a stone and grumbled under his breath. Well, perhaps he would listen to his sister after this.

*****

Aurelian Severas cringed slightly at the look that came over the features of his father as he read the message that had arrived only moments before. He pushed the food around his silver plate absently, watching his father at the other end of the long table. The letter had not been for Governor Severas but for Aurelian, though that made little difference to the arrogant ruler of Parsaena. Any affair of his son’s was equally his business, if not more so. His eyes left the parchment long enough to glance at his only son, a sickening smile pulling the corners of his mouth into an expression of intense satisfaction. His tossed the missive to the side of his plate and picked up his knife again, still grinning to himself as he continued eating without a word.

“Am I not to see my own message, father? Or would you prefer if my friends begin addressing their letters to you?” Aurelian’s tone was steeped in sarcasm, almost forgetting to whom he spoke. But his father was too wrapped in his own scheming thoughts to do anything but snap at the manservant who stood next to him. Quickly, the servant picked up the parchment and hurried it to Aurelian’s place.

Aurelian took the offered message in silent disgust. After twenty-five years as the son of Governor Severus, he felt it about time his father began treating him like the future ruler that he had been trained to be. At least let him read his own messages first.

The message turned out only to be another invitation to a week-long feast. The daughter of his father’s late advisor had written to tell Aurelian that his presence was greatly desired at the gathering, to be held only a week from that day.

He tossed the parchment aside much like his father had done. He didn’t see what had caused such a reaction; invitations such as this were plentiful, and at times almost too many. This event would probably be no different than the other feasts Livea Vitalus had hosted. A small chuckle came from across the table.

He glanced up to see his father gazing at him, eyes gleaming. That look never meant anything good; he had seen it enough over the years to know better. “What is it, Father?”

Governor Severus was pleased with himself. Yes, it was a good plan; one that would calm a few worries with little inconvenience to himself.

“The feast, Aurelian. Yes, you will go to the feast.”

Well, aren’t we the ingenious one. Of course I will go to the feast, if only to get away from you, Father.

“And you will marry Lady Vitalus as soon as you have wooed her.”

Utter surprise haulted any further sarcastic thoughts. This announcement was not at all what Aurelian had been expecting. “What?”

“You are more than old enough to wed, and I have decided that she is to be your bride.

“But, Father I—“

Severus’s eyes narrowed daringly, “You will do as I say, and you will do it when I say. Unless of course, you would prefer to go outside this minute and start working in the fields alongside all those pitiful peasants. I’m sure you would enjoy that.”

Aurelian rose from his chair and stalked out of the hall angrily. As much as he liked to appear strong-willed and rebellious, he knew in his heart that he had no choice but to obey his father; no choice at all. He hated his father, hated his life, and hated himself.