The Cold King(23)

Calia thought for a way to decline his generous gift but could not find  one that did not outright disobey him. He had told her to go so she  would have to.

Calia slept poorly that night. No one had cared when she had left, no  one would care she had returned to visit. She wondered if her mother  would a have a list of chores for her or if her youngest siblings would  even remember her. She wondered if she would even be allowed in the  house.

In the morning her anxiety was double.

She fixed her hair and dressed in a gown of muted grey to match her  mood. Marchello greeted her with a sad smile when she met him in the  courtyard at the carriage.

"It's only for a few days," he promised. Abelina stood next to him, barely holding back tears.



"He's right, just a few days and you'll be back with us." She sniffed  and dabbed at her cheeks before pulling a jar out of her pocket. "Iago  asked me to give this to you. It's a calming tea."

Calia gave a little smile. "Being with my mother for the next few days I am probably going to need it."

Abelina folded her into a tight hug and then Marchello helped her into the carriage.

She fought with her stomach the whole ride. How would she be received?  Clearly the king was unaware of how reviled his servants were by the  townspeople. If he did, he wouldn't have sent her. She shuddered with  the thought of what he might do to right that wrong.

Calia almost had to call for Marchello to stop so she could empty her  stomach but she managed to keep its sloshing contents down. With a groan  she sunk her head into her hands. She did not want to go back to her  old life, even for a day. She had spent a lifetime being a servant girl  to her uncaring mother and invisible to the town's people; she had spent  the last several months making friends and being appreciated.

When they pulled up in front her old house Calia could not make herself  get out. The carriage shifted as Marchello got down and she flinched  when he opened the door. He held a hand out and she looked at it with  tear glazed eyes.

"It's quite all right my dear," he said gently. "In two mornings hence I will return for you."

She nodded mutely and finally extended her hand to let him help her down.



The door to the house cracked open and after a second was pulled back.  Her mother stood in the doorway with a look of shock on her face.  "Calia?" she asked. Two little faces peered out behind her skirt. "My  word," she groaned. "You've been dismissed so soon? Can you not do  anything right?"

Marchello shot the woman a hard look. "Miss Calia is home for a short  visit. I will return for her in two days and the king expects to see his  servant refreshed and of good cheer."

Her mother shrunk away from his steely words and glanced back to Calia.  She seemed to really see her daughter this time and her eyes widened.  "Of course."

"Quite," Marchello snapped before turning to unload the carriage. He set three bags down on the doorstep.

"Wait," Calia said. "I only packed one."

He smiled. "The other two are gifts for your family, from the king."                       
       
           



       

At his words the twins popped out from behind their mother and descended  on the luggage. Calia laughed and snatched them up. "Can you wait until  we are inside?" she teased.

She turned back to Marchello. She was pretty sure he would die of  improperness if she threw her arms around him so instead she whispered,  "Two days?"

"Two days," he whispered back. "I promise."

She nodded and turned back to face her family.

Her childhood home was not as clean as she remembered, not as clean as  she had kept it. It was also much quieter. She wandered about the small  main room and her family silently watched her. It saddened her to see  there was no memento of her, no reminder that she had ever been there or  been a part of the family. She stuffed her sadness down and turned to  the younger children. "Shall we see what's in the bags?" she asked them.



They squealed with delight and fell on the bags like rabid dogs. Even  her mother had a predatory gleam in her eyes as she watched them pull  things out.

There were wooden toys and dolls for the children and a book of poetry  for her sister. There were fine clothes for everyone and a large  canister of tea. Tucked in were packets of spices they could never have  afforded, a ream of thick paper, little jars of ink and one heavy bag  filled with gold coins. Calia watched in wonder as everything was pulled  out. It was as though the king knew exactly what her family was lacking  and her heart surged at his kindness.

Her family greedily tucked their new treasures away before finally  acknowledging to her. Her mother awkwardly gestured for her to sit  before turning to the teapot. Calia watched her hesitate over her new  treasure of tea and sighed. "I have a small jar in my bag. Perhaps that  would be most agreeable." She hoped the calming effect was strong and  swift.

Her mother gave a forced smile and fretted over her dishes while she  waited for the tea to brew. Finally she had nothing to do but sit down  opposite of the daughter she had given away.

"So my dear," she finally said in a falsely bright voice. "I can see my decision for you was the best one."

Calia choked on her hot tea. "How do you mean?"

Her mother fluttered her hands up and down. "Well, look at you. Life at  the castle has certainly agreed with you. You must be so glad I was able  to give you this life."



"I do not know what you mean, Mother," Calia said coldly.

The older woman started at her daughters tone and fought to remain in  the best light possible. "Well, you look lovely. Your hair has darkened  and your skin paled. You fill your dress out quite nicely; he must be  feeding you well." She cocked her head to the side. "And you have such  lovely clothes. And you get to ride around in a carriage! You'll be the  envy of everyone in town."

Anger surged in her chest but Calia knew it was useless. She could  always count on her mother to take credit for anything good thing,  whether she deserved it or not.

"What's he like?" Moli suddenly asked.

Calia eyed her younger sister and raised an eyebrow. "He's a king and my master. What more could there be than that?"

Moli looked at her wistfully. "But is he handsome? Is he strong and kind and gentle?"

Calia frowned. "What nonsense are you talking about? Have you been  reading that rubbish Mrs. Lent's loans out from her husband's book shop  when he isn't looking?"

"Calia!" her mother gasped.

Calia rolled her eyes. "Please mother, I only know about them because I  found one hidden under your pillow while making your bed."

Her mother had the good sense to flush. "Enough unladylike talk. Moli,  get your siblings ready, we are going to dine out tonight."



The children roared with delight and began flying about the small room.  Calia watched her sister chase them down with wet rags and wrestle them  into their new clothes while her mother sat and drank tea.

Part of her wanted to help her sister and part of her just wanted to  stew in misery until she was able to go home. Eventually she gave in and  helped. Her mother preened in front of the one small mirror they owned  and finally turned to take in her children. She smiled with  satisfaction. "This is how we should always present ourselves."

Calia rolled her eyes. Her mother had always thought she deserved the best, that for some reason life owed it to her.

She sullenly followed her family to the town's one inn. The dining hall  was brightly lit and soft, cheerful music poured out. Calia took a deep  breath before forcing herself to enter. There were couples and families  seated everywhere and Calia picked out several familiar faces. None  seemed to recognize her until they took in her family.                       
       
           



       

"Do not just stand there like a bumpkin," her mother hissed in her ear. "Smile."

Calia smiled for all the people who had so callously sent her away and prayed dinner would go quickly.

It did not. People stopped at their table all evening, coming over in  curiosity to get a glimpse of Calia. Her mother thought all the  attention was for her and preened and basked in it.

Calia just kept her fake smile fixed on her face and pushed her food around on the plate.

Over and over the town's people commented on her hair, on her skin, on  her figure, on her fine dress. Not one person asked how she was doing or  if she was happy or if the king was a fair master. It was worse than  being invisible. They all saw her but they still did not care.



At home her mother collapsed into her arm chair with a happy sigh. "Did  you see the look on that wretched Mrs. Hadrian's face when she realized  it was you?" she tittered.