Chapter 20

20

Ella

To hell with the prince.

Cara teased me mercilessly when I told her about speaking to him alone in the stables. "You've definitely caught his eye, El. Next thing you know, he'll be bringing you flowers."

I reddened at the thought of the bloom I'd hidden away in the storage closet. I stole looks at it occasionally. It meant nothing. I was nothing. His interest would fade like its petals.

"If the prince really wanted to do me a favor, he should've taken me off Lorayna's service completely. I would have gladly tended to the pigs or latrines as well as the horses."

"I don't doubt it!" Cara laughed.

Instead, I had the worst of both worlds—two jobs and a livid mistress.

When Katherine and I reported to work the next evening, Lorayna descended on me like a whirlwind and gave me a roasting that nearly set my dress on fire.

I braced myself and took the abuse, imagining myself bending like reeds along the riverbank. If I could endure my stepmother, I'd find a way to swallow my pride and endure the bloodsucker's sister for Belle's sake, if not my own. Lorayna could scream and yell all she wanted—it was just words and hatred, and I was stronger than both.

"How dare you put my bitch of a sister ahead of me!" she hissed as she dug her nails into my arm.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just words. But hopefully, it wouldn't get any worse.

"Do you have any idea how foolish you made me look? Like I couldn't control my own staff—and in front of the prince ."

I lowered my eyes. "I'm sorry for any trouble I caused, Your Ladyship, but it was your sister who looked the fool, not you. The prince seemed impressed with your poise, given the difficult circumstances."

Her fire faded slightly, and she let go. "Maybe so. But it's cost me four hours of your workday. Your insolence has robbed me of what is rightfully mine ."

"I'll use my time there to make sure your horse is treated as well as the prince's and that your tack glistens."

"Don't think I'll expect any less work out of you here. I showed you mercy because you were new, but I expect you to do a full twelve hours of work in eight."

Of course she did. I curtsied.

With that, Lorayna left, slamming the door behind her. I released a deep breath. How was I going to find time to search for Belle when I had so much extra work to do?

"Are you okay?" Katherine asked, her face pale. "I've never seen her get that angry and not give out a beating."

My heart was still hammering, and I clasped my hands to keep my arms from shaking. "I'm fine." I forced a cheerful smile. "Let's get to work."

I was furious to the point of exploding, but there was nothing like sweat and toil to take the anger out of you.

Katherine shook her head as she fetched some rags. "Fates, Ella. You're more resilient than I am. I thought her skull was going to burst when you didn't break down sobbing. It's what she expects."

I grabbed the cleaning supplies from where they'd been stashed and shrugged. "She may have to reset her expectations with me."

Lorayna made good on her promise to push me to my limits, assigning me two more tasks before I finished the last. My time in her service became a blur as I raced from one wing of the castle to the next, each chore chosen to make me as miserable as possible.

Albert the stablemaster took pity on me at least. He shook his head in wonder as I polished Tenebris's saddle later that night. "I don't know how you got these stables clean all by yourself, and I'm not going to ask—but I'll make you a deal. I know the sisters are running you ragged, so if you tend to their horses and the prince's, the rest of the time here is yours. Take a nap in the hayloft if you don't let the other stableboys see, and I won't say a thing."

Relief washed over me. If I had a little spare time between breakfast and curfew, I might finally be able to use it to look for Belle and explore the castle. I smiled back at him. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Just make sure the prince's horse is ready for riding first thing each evening. He goes riding almost every other day."

"Why so often?"

Albert shrugged. "Hunting he says—though he never brings anything back."

I raised my brows. "So, he's a bad shot?"

The old man laughed. "Not likely. He comes back covered in blood often enough. Maybe he hunts for blood—they say he never drinks from the vein—or maybe he's just at it for the sport and leaves the carcasses for the wolves. I don't know. Aamon is the only one who ever goes with him."

My fists tightened. Hunting I could accept, but killing for sport? It was cruel and needlessly wasteful. But then again, what else were the immortals but cruel, wasteful predators who loved to prey on lesser beings? Why would the prince be any different?

Except I suspected that he was.

Despite the extra work, my new position turned out to be a godsend. In addition to the break in my schedule, as a member of grounds staff, I had permission to freely move around the courtyard and outbuildings, as well as other places that had previously been off-limits. No one stopped me and asked me where I was going since everybody knew I was working two jobs and would likely be whipped if I delayed.

By reassigning me, the prince had put me in the perfect position to search for Belle.

I spent the next two shifts at the stables getting ahead of my chores, but on the third night, I took Albert up on his offer of a little time off and headed straight to the kitchens.

As I pushed through the large wooden door that led to the castle kitchen, a wave of heat assaulted me, along with the ear-piercing noise of clanging pots and cooks shouting orders. Dozens of staff flitted about the enormous room, carrying bowls of chopped vegetables and meats, trays of fresh herbs, and pots of soup.

"Who are you?" a towering man demanded, his moustache quivering. He wore a tall hat and apron, and had a large wooden spoon gripped in his fist.

"I'm Lady Lorayna's servant. I'm looking for the head of the kitchen. Sylvester?" I hoped I'd remembered the correct name.

"He's inventorying the pantries in the back." He nodded curtly, then turned to a giant pot bubbling over a fire.

I carefully picked a path through the organized commotion of the kitchen, dodging a scullery maid and nearly getting a bowl of chutney dumped down my front.

My nose wrinkled at the scent of tarragon, and I deftly avoided a table where one of the cooks was mincing dried bunches of the herb. After harvesting it as a child and breaking out in a terrible rash, I'd recognize the elongated olive green leaves anywhere. Unfortunately, it was my stepmother's favorite herb, and she still made me cook with it. I had to be very careful to keep my hands from blistering.

I received more than a few terse looks as I passed the various cooking stations and prep areas. A dozen storage rooms lined the far end of the kitchen, and a formidable figure, who I presumed was the man I was looking for, filled the doorframe of one. "Sylvester?" I asked.

"That's my name," the bear of a man said as he turned toward me, holding a pen and weathered notebook. His stocky build and calculating eyes were daunting, but I straightened my back. "What can I do for you, missy?" He paused and frowned. "You don't work down here, do you? Otherwise, I'd recognize you."

"No, I'm Ella. I work for Lorayna, but I'm looking for my sister, Belle. She sometimes visited here. Do you know of her?"

"Belle," he drawled, rubbing two fingers through his scruffy beard.

"She has lavender eyes like mine and used to deliver herbs and game from the forest."

His expression brightened. "The eyes! Of course, I should have recognized you instantly. Belle's a good lass. Terrible thing about her leg. I haven't seen her since she broke it."

"A broken leg?" Fear sank its talons into my chest.

"Don't you worry about her. She's in the infirmary, convalescing."

"The infirmary? Here ?"

"Nowhere better. I heard she was out leading some lords and ladies on a royal hunt in the woods when she took a bad tumble down a ravine and snapped her leg. Lucky she was on official business, otherwise she might have died out there." He looked around cautiously, then leaned forward. "Supposedly, one of the lords offered her his blood to help speed the healing process, but she refused. Foolish, if you ask me. I'd have done it in a pinch, even if it did put me in a thrall."

I frowned. I'd heard rumors like it before: if an immortal offered you their blood, it would heal you, but you would also fall under their spell, like drinking it gave them some kind of control over your mind.

No wonder Belle had refused it.

"Could you tell me where the infirmary is? I need to visit her and make sure she's okay."

He tutted with disapproval. "Afraid that's not possible in your state, missy. They only accept the broken or infirm up there."

"No visitors?"

Sylvester shrugged. "The prince hired a fancy physician. She's absolutely mad, if you ask me. The infirmary staff have started insisting that everything needs to be boiled. They constantly scrub the place with vinegar and have a policy of absolutely no visitors. The physician says we have to be worried about letting in things we can't even see. They're a real odd bunch up there."

Things we couldn't see? Like ghosts?

I furrowed my brow. "Surely the kitchen delivers food to the patients. Perhaps I could make a bargain and take the duties of one of the staff who makes those deliveries. I promise I won't stir up any trouble. I'll be in and out."

He chuckled but shook his head. "I admire your devotion, but that won't be possible. The immortals don't take kindly to changes in staffing without prior consent. If they don't know you, they won't let you in. Just bide your time. Your sister will be better in a month or so."

I couldn't wait a month. I didn't want to wait an hour, especially with the knowledge that Belle was inside the castle and injured. I'd just have to find another ticket into the infirmary. I was certain I could inspire Bianca to whip me until I couldn't walk, but there had to be a way in that didn't leave me crippled or battered.

"Thank you for the information, Sylvester. I truly appreciate it."

I started to go, passing a table where a dozen warm bread loaves were cooling. The scent of warm wheat and tarragon wafted over me, and an idea popped into my head. I turned back to the baker and smiled brightly. "Say, would it be okay if I took one of these loaves? I missed breakfast."

He sighed audibly. "Fine. Hold on a second."

He turned to fetch a sheet of parchment paper, and I made my move. I palmed a handful of the dried tarragon and carefully slipped it in the sack before he could see.

He wrapped a loaf in the paper and handed it to me with a curt nod. "This is against the rules, so if anyone asks, it's for your mistress. I don't want handmaids down here begging for crumbs like a gaggle of hungry crows."

"My lips are sealed."

The tips of my fingers were already itchy from the tarragon by the time I left the kitchen, but my spirits were soaring. Belle was in the castle, and now I had a surefire means to get to her.