The Cold King(22)

The man's grin widened and he beckoned his harlot of a daughter to come  stand at his side. "My king, you must know of the immense respect I have  for you as a man and as a ruler. I too strive to provide the best for  my country and also my family. I feel a strong connection to you and  your land and believe you feel it as well. That is why I wish to join  our two kingdoms and offer to seal them with the offer of my daughter's  hand." He swooped down into another ridiculous bow and his daughter  curtsied, making sure the Cold King got a perfect view of her  overflowing cleavage.



Calia held her breath. A union     with this girl could make her personal  life hell and she had no idea what political ramifications it could have  for her people. Thankfully the Cold King did.

"As flattering as your offer is, I must decline." Calia winced at the  cold, flat tone of his voice but was glad. The lesser king was not. She  watched as the red in his nose bloomed out over his cheeks and down his  neck.

"Surely you can see how advantageous this arrangement could be?"

"To you? Yes. To me and my kingdom, a hundred times no. Dealing with  your little minx of a daughter would be a chore I would wish on no man.  And you have brought nothing but poverty and war to your people. I would  never risk infecting my kingdom with such vile things."

The king puffed and huffed and his daughter first tried fake crying then  desperate sobs before quickly turning to seething silence. Throughout  the whole thing the eldest daughter stood stoically and kept her eyes on  a point above all their heads. Calia felt badly for her. She could not  imagine such a terrible existence with family like that.

King William flung his hand out to point at Calia. "Then why the rose?" he thundered.

"Oh, that?" the Cold King asked lightly. "That's just because I think it's pretty."



"The rose or the girl?" the younger daughter sneered. "Have you no need  for a real wife when you can roll in the hay with that little strumpet  whenever you like? I bet you can command her to do things no real woman  would submit to!"

Calia gasped and nearly dropped the tray. Her face quickly grew to an  ugly shade of red and tears pricked her eyes. Of all the horrid things  that had ever been said about her, that had to be the worst.

The Cold King stilled so perfectly Calia wondered if he was even  breathing. Then he slowly stood to his full height and stepped down the  carpeted stairs. The weaker king wobbled slightly but did not back away.                       
       
           



       

"Take your awful daughter and leave. Never return here again." They all  heard the warning in his deadly tone and Calia was grateful for it.

With a tight, grim smile the oldest daughter turned and left and after a  moment her pouty, foot stomping sister followed. Their father swallowed  hard a few times, as if trying to think of something to say before  finally turning and leaving as well.

The king did not turn to face Calia when he spoke. "You know I would never ask those sorts of things of you."

She nodded before remembering he could not see her. She cleared her throat. "I do."

"And you know I would never think you would oblige such things."

Calia wiped her tears away. "I do."

"Good. Then we both know where you stand."

He finally turned to look at her. "You mustn't let others get to you so  much. You need to be stronger, grow a thicker skin. Stop crying so  much."



Calia nodded but did not see how that was possible.

The Cold King sighed. "Come, I still have work to do and my treasures aren't going to dust themselves."





The weeks that passed after that were quiet, peaceful ones. As Calia  grew more comfortable in her role she needed less direction from the  king and began to do things more freely. One day she finally entered his  personal sleeping chamber and found it to be in shambles. The bed  clothes were twisted and lumped together in the middle of the mattress  and in dire need of changing. The floor was filthy and dust covered  everything, including the drapes. It was dark and depressing and Calia  slowly backed out.

"My King," she called.

He looked up from his desk.

"Why is your sleeping chamber in such disarray? Why have you not asked me to clean it?"

He watched her for a moment before answering. "I thought you would find it improper."

A little laugh burst out before she could stifle it. "It's just a  bedchamber. Assuming I'll be cleaning it during the day while it's  unoccupied I cannot see anything improper in that."

He gave a little nod but still watched her warily.

"Would you like me to clean it now?" she hinted.

The king gave a little sigh of relief. "I would like that very much."

Calia shook her head in amusement. If the mess had bothered him so much he could have just ordered her to clean it.

As she dragged the dirty bed clothes out and began dusting and wiping  and mopping, she thought. He was such an unusual man. He had lived in a  dusty, untidy bedchamber for fear she would be uncomfortable but had no  qualms about taking her freedom.



She slowed to a stop as she knelt on the wet tiles.

He was trying.

The entire situation was ideal for no one and yet he was trying, for her sake.

Calia thought back and tried to remember a time anyone had been so  considerate of her feelings and could think of none before she came to  the palace. Saddened but uplifted, she returned to her cleaning and was  glad for the smile on her king's face when he saw his fresh, clean room.

"Thank you, Calia," he murmured.

It continued on like that, her doing something nice for him and him  returning the favor with kindness. It wasn't friendship and her fear  never fully abated but it was something warm and comfortable and Calia  began to appreciate her new life and home despite mourning her freedom.  The more she thought about it the more she could not think of what she  would do with it anyway. Go home to be her mother's slave and not  treated half so well? Go out into the world, a penniless woman traveler?

Both ideas seemed wretched compared to living in luxury and serving a  cold king in the simple ways he commanded. Over time it grew to a point  the Calia felt there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be and  could not ever imagine leaving her new home. She threw herself into her  tasks, into her new friendships with other servants and into her time  with the king.



The most surprising result of her joyful efforts was that she finally  managed to replicate the complicated silk shirts his previous servants  had sewn for him. When she finally held the perfect garment in her hands  she almost couldn't believe it. She inspected every seam, every button,  searched all the fabric for any loose threads before finally presenting  it him.

Calia stood in front of his desk with the shirt folded in her  outstretched hands and waited for him to notice. He eventually looked up  and took in her goofy grin. "Did you finally manage it?" he asked.

"I think so. Here! Try it on." She prayed the fit was right and twisted her hands together while he inspected the shirt.

"It looks fine," he said doubtfully before walking over to the mirrors near his dressing area.                       
       
           



       

Calia followed and he turned sharply. "A little privacy, if you please."

Calia's cheeks flushed. "Of course. I wasn't trying to …  I'll be just outside."

She waited in the hallway, full of self-loathing. He thought she was  trying to watch him …  She slapped her hands to her face and tried to  shake away the embarrassment.

"Come," he finally called. She took a steadying breath and opened the door.

The Cold King looked exactly the same except for a small smile. "It's perfect," he said. "Well done."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He watched her for a moment. "I think you deserve a reward."

Calia shook her head. "Oh no, you have given me too much already."



"I meant something I cannot pull out of my vault or pay for with gold."  He rubbed a hand along his perfect jaw. "I think you are due for a visit  to your family."

Calia's stomach turned in on itself. "Oh no, I do not think that's necessary."

The king took her by the shoulders and squeezed. "You are too selfless,  Calia. Even servants deserve a break. I will be fine without you for a  few days and you can assure your family you are well."

"I am not sure they care," she mumbled.

"It will be good for them to see how well you are," he said softly. "And  it will be good for you to just be Calia for a short time, and not a  servant. So, pack enough things for two overnights and in the morning  Marchello will take you down to the village."