The Cold King indicated for her to set the box in front of him. They both held their breath as he lifted the lid a few inches. She could not see into the box from her place opposite of him but whatever he saw pleased him greatly.
He smiled and shut the lid, then steepeled his fingers under his chin. "Every day you show me you are trustworthy and of sound judgment."
She blinked at the unexpected compliment. Never had anyone said something so nice about her and she certainly hadn't expected him to be the first.
"My lord?" she asked.
His smile widened. "The man who sent me this knows I trust his secrecy above all else. He always fashions these boxes in a way so that I can tell if they have been opened at any time between when he closes it for the last time and I open it for the first."
She stifled a relieved sigh, glad that for once she hadn't let curiosity overcome her. Then another thought came. "But what if the men delivering it had opened it? Would you have thought it was me?"
"I would have known it was you. The penalty for opening one of my boxes is death. The deliverers are well aware of that."
Calia felt as if she had been doused with ice water. Though he could be kind at times, he truly was a Cold King.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked in a small voice.
"No, you are excused for the day."
"The whole day?"
His mouth pinched in annoyance. "Yes, that is what I meant."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" she said and rushed out the door.
She knew exactly what she would do with her free time.
Calia hurried to change into the ugly charcoal dress she had first worn at the castle and rushed down stairs, looking for Jos. He was carrying in a wobbling arm load of potatoes, his face set in resentment.
"Here," she said, taking the top two bags that threatened to fall. "Let me help you with that."
He looked at her distrustfully but did not say anything as she followed him down to the stores and put the food away. Calia followed him back out to the coaches and asked what she should get next.
Jos turned to her with his hands on his hips. "Why are you helping me?"
Calia shrugged and let her eyes linger over the mounds of good. "Because it looks like you need it."
He pursed his lips but pointed at the mountains of bagged carrots. "These go in next."
It was a very long morning. Calia was in and out of the castle, up and down the stairs to the stores more times than she could count. They unloaded vegetables, pounds of salt, enormous jars of spices and heavy skids of butter. The other servants toiled right along with them and Calia began to wonder just how long winter would last in the mountain.
Finally the wagons were empty and the men hitched their giant horses back to them and took back off up the mountain road they had come in on.
Suddenly devoid of physical labor, Calia shivered in the courtyard. Abelina put an arm around her shoulder. "Come, Cato has a warm lunch for us."
They all gathered around the large table in the back of the kitchen near the warm fires and ate and laughed and bemoaned their already sore muscles. Iago and Klaribel sat close together, Cato filled their bowls continually and even gruff Marchello grinned.
They talked about previous years of unloading the wagons and laughed about old times, like the time Klaribel had dropped a cage full of hens and they had spent an hour chasing them all over the courtyard. Calia had very little to add to the conversation but sat in wonder with a small smile on her face.
She had never had friends, never been included in fun or companionship or conversations. But they all sat around her, welcoming her into their warm circle of friendship. She was content for the first time ever. She had always done everything that had been asked of her but had never been rewarded with the one thing she had always needed-warmth and friendship.
Finally the revelry died down and the servants began to drift off. Sad to see it end so soon, Calia turned to Jos. "Now what do I do?"
He gave her a smile, one of the first she had seen on his face. "Now you go soak in your tub so you do not wake up too sore to walk in the morning." He turned away then turned back with his eyes on the floor. "Thank you for your help."
Calia bit a grin back. "You are welcome."
Chapter Seven
That winter was particularly cold and harsh but Calia did not feel it. She slept in a real bed with real goose down pillows and blankets for the first cold season of her life and enjoyed the luxury of warmth and fireplaces in every room.
It began to get easier to serve the king. For the most part he was quiet and reserved, only speaking when he wanted something. Sometimes she was almost able to forget he was in the room. And when she did remember, she wasn't so frightened. She served his meals, ran his errands and cleaned his rooms. In the mornings she practiced sewing his shirts and although she was still terrible at it she was improving. In the afternoons she cleaned the odd assortment of collectables he kept displayed all over his rooms. She swept and kept up the fires and tidied his desk.
She soon learned he spent almost all of his time in his rooms. He seemed to have endless paperwork that he worked on and sat at his desk for hours going over documents and writing. Occasionally he would pull out a book and sit by the fire reading. It was by no means a bad life but Calia was finding it very lonely. She didn't have the courage to try to start any type of personal conversation with the king and so most of her days were spent in silence, save for the scratching of his quill.
But as time went on, the king seemed to begin to trust her more and left his room for longer and longer periods of time. He never asked her to come with and never spoke of where he went or what he was doing but often he came back with dirt on his hands or dust on his trousers. Calia was curious but too afraid to ask him anything. One day he came back to the room early, covered in dirt and swearing.
"Where is my gardening book?" he asked, bursting into the room. Calia jumped up from where she was sitting in front of the fire place.
"I am not sure, Your Majesty."
He searched his desk to find it and went to leave. He glanced back at his servant and she thought maybe his face softened a little bit under his hard mask.
"You needn't sit around and wait for me if your chores are done," he said quietly.
Calia looked around the room. "I don't really have anything else to do."
"Then go find something to do," he said, giving Calia her freedom to do what she wished while he was out.
She ventured over to her room but it was already spotless. There was nothing useful she could find to do and the silence was deafening. She poked her head out into the hall, wondering if she might find some art to look upon that didn't seem to sneer back at her.
A low noise caught her attention and she followed it until she could make out voices and laughter down in the kitchens. All the other servants were there, seated at a large table at the back of the kitchen. They were laughing and joking, passing food around and generally just having a good time.
Calia stood at the threshold, unsure of where she stood with any of them. Was she just like them, one of them? Or was she to keep separate?
Iago spotted her first. "Ay! Come sit down, you are just in time for dinner." Abelina scooted over on her bench and patted the new spot next to her.
Shy, and still a little overcome at being included, she walked over and sat silently.
Cato overfilled a bowl of stew and handed it to her as Jos pushed a spoon into her other hand. "It's hot," he warned. She nodded and blew over the meal.
Abelina pressed into her side. "During the winter months we servants eat supper together. You're welcome to join us anytime you are free." Calia ducked her head, unsure of what to say.
"The days are so short and frigid we can't work past dark. What better to ward off cold and darkness than friends and company?" Iago explained.
Klaribel sat next to him and was watching Calia closely. She ripped a big chunk off a bread loaf, popped it into her mouth and chewed methodically, not breaking her stare. Finally she swallowed and asked, "You ride?"
Calia looked around hesitantly. "Horses, you mean?"
Klaribel rolled her eyes. "No, pigs."
Marchello gruffly cleared his throat and gave the stable master a pointed look.
"Yes, I mean horses." If it weren't for the faint smile on her lips Calia might have run.
"No. Well, I've never tried."