Page 55 of The Faerie Handmaid

As she was returning, the front door swung open, and the trio of servants appeared with breakfast trays. By the time she reached the kitchen, Gwen was setting out the meal, and she looked up when Braithe came in. “Did you sleep?” she asked.

“I did.”

“He leaves early for the council. We may have a peaceful—” She broke off when Faolin, dressed in an ash-gray robe, appeared.

“Gwen, do my chamber.”

Gwen hurried away without answering. Braithe stood beside the table, her eyes down, her neck stiff with apprehension.

“You will, indeed,” Faolin said coldly, “have a peaceful day, as Gwen was about to say. I will be busy at the Royal Council Hall, but I will occasionally think of you, and look forward to the pleasures of the evening.”

Cautiously, Braithe looked up at him. The sharp slant of his eyes reminded her of a Roman war helmet one of the knights had picked up after a battle and carried to Camulod. Many Lloegyrians had died at the hands of the man who wore that helmet. He had died, too, to be mourned by no one, but Braithe had never forgotten the innocent lives he had destroyed.

She was still afraid of what Faolin might do to her, but she couldn’t help speaking her mind. “You have so much, Sero,” she said tightly. “Power. Riches. Privilege. I wonder you cannot be happy with it.”

“Do you dare to question my choices?” His lips curled in that mirthless smile she was beginning to recognize.

“It seems I may as well,” she said, her voice deceptively steady, though her belly trembled in anticipation. “You will hurt me in any case.”

His smile grew to something repulsive. Feral. He spoke in that same low, intimate tone that made a shudder run through Braithe’s nerves. “Your spirit intrigues me,” he said. “It will give me great satisfaction to break it.”

She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “I think you have no idea of the trouble you are bringing on yourself, Sero.”

“Trouble!” He barked a laugh. “Who is there to cause me trouble?”

She gazed steadily at him, without answering, and his laughter died.

“You think your Priestess Morgana will avenge you, but I assure you, she will not. She will never know what became of you.” He turned away from her and started for the door. He spoke the cantrip, and as the door clicked open he said offhandedly, “This is the problem, you see, little Braithe. No one can do anything to me. Or for me. Life is an endless, empty existence, devoid of challenges.”

“Did you not enjoy making your art?”

“I did at one time, but I tired of it. I tired of everything, in fact. The only pastime left to me is cruelty.”

He had one foot out the door when she called, “And Lloegyr? Does it give you pleasure to torment Lloegyr?”

He paused with one hand on the doorframe and looked back at her with disgust on his face. “That cesspit full of humans?” He spoke the word as if it gave him a bad taste in his mouth. “It absolutely does. My dearest wish is to torment it to death.”

Morgana slept little and rose before the light was fully up. She left her bed unmade, barely pausing even to brush her tangled hair. That made her miss Braithe with a terrible ache. Braithe would have insisted on brushing it. Morgana, disinterested in her appearance, tied it back with a bit of thong. She had just pulled on her robe when she heard the front door click open. Hastily, hoping against hope someone might have brought Braithe back, she hurried out into the hall.

The overseer Umer stood in the open doorway, peering toward the dark kitchen. He caught sight of Morgana coming down the hall. “Priestess? Where are your servants?”

Before she could answer, Idhri appeared, fumbling through the dim kitchen toward the hall, saying, “Is she back? Is she all right?”

Morgana said, “No, Idhri. The overseer is here.”

“There you are!” Umer cried. “What happened to you? You’re not allowed to walk away from the chamber without permission! You’ll cause me trouble!”

Idhri ignored him. “It’s not Braithe, then?” he asked Morgana. She shook her head.

“What’s happening here?” Umer demanded.

“That is not your concern,” Morgana said. “My servants will not be coming to the hall again. They are both excused.”

“But—where’s the other one?”

“In my view, you lost both of my servants when I allowed them to work under your care yesterday,” Morgana said. “I will report your infraction to the councillor.”

Umer took a step back. “Priestess, please don’t do that. It wasn’t my fault! Idhri ran out, though I called after him, and—”