Hope bloomed in her eyes. "Yes, please."
The king twitched his hand and Calia stepped forward at his command. "Calia, see this young woman to the dungeon."
Both women gasped in unison. "The dungeon?"
The king clenched his jaw and shot Calia an angry look but addressed the queen. "Yes, the dungeon. How do I know you are not a spy, sent to enter into my sanctuary? How do I know you are not lying?"
"I am not! My father is a wicked man, even more wicked than my husband! I wish to be free of both of them. I came to you because I had valuable information. You can stop the war before it even starts." Tears began rolling down her cheeks as she begged.
"I can," the Cold King agreed. "And I thank you for the warning. Now, you will rest in my dungeon until I can be sure you are not a threat. Calia, take her down."
"No."
The Cold King turned to look at her, the mask not hiding his shock and anger. "What did you say to me?"
She was shaking but held on to her resolve. "I said no. It's too cold down there and not fit for a woman in her condition. It would be cruel and bad for her health. She should stay in one of the guest rooms."
His jaw flexed several times before he stood, towering over Calia. She flinched away from him but he grabbed her arm.
To Sola he growled, "Stay in this room. Do not leave it or your life is forfeit." Her hands were shaking over her swollen abdomen but she nodded. She shot the servant girl a grateful look but Calia hardly saw it for the veil of tears in her eyes.
With a jerk hard enough to make her cry out, the king dragged her from the room and down the hall that led to the staircase to the dungeon. Panicked, she dug her feet in and begged, "Please do not do this, not again."
He stopped so quickly she didn't have time to react and her arm was twisted roughly in the socket.
Seething, the king leaned down to put his face within inches of hers. The diamonds on his mask caught the light from the torches and drove harsh specks of light into her eyes. "You dare defy me?" he hissed. "And in front of a stranger no less? I thought you knew better than that but clearly you need harsher lessons."
"But I thought-"
"If you thought anything besides the fact that I am your king and you are my servant then you were very mistaken." His voice was so low and dark she had to lean in to hear him. His hair brushed her face and the scent of his special soap tickled her nose.
She raised her eyes to search for the man in the beast. "Please," she whispered again. "It would have been cruel and you are a good man-"
"I am not a man!" he shouted. "I am a king, your king, and I will have complete obedience."
He took off again, pulling her along with him. She tried to keep up as he flew down the stairs but stumbled and fell against him. He only tightened his grip and jerked her up. White hot pain was pulsing in her shoulder by the time he finally stopped in front of her old cell.
He stepped away to pull the door open and turned his face from her.
"You really mean to do this?" she asked in a flat voice.
He just pointed at the open door, still not looking at her.
Calia shifted around him, forcing her face into his. "You, you who lost your own sister to such a brutish monster would punish me for standing up for a pregnant woman?"
His hard eyes turned to hers and fear flooded her belly. "You are being punished for your disobedience. I didn't tell about my sister so you could later assume we were friends and you could defy me as you pleased."
She wanted to stay quiet but the hurt and fear pulsing in her pushed the words out. "And I didn't bring it up to anger you. Your sister suffered horribly only to die at the end of her pregnancy. Surely you wouldn't want that for another woman."
"Get in the cell. Now."
Calia sniffed back her tears and stepped through the open doorway. Her feet had barely cleared the threshold when he slammed the door shut. She waited for his angry footsteps to fade before breaking down.
Chapter Thirteen
Valanka stormed up the stairs and slammed back into his throne room. Sola stood from the stairs where she had been sitting. She rose unsteadily, keeping a hand over her unborn baby. He took in her pallor and shaking frame and a tendril of guilt began weave into his cold heart.
"Come with me, please."
She wisely kept her mouth shut and followed him.
It was a long walk to the guest room he had in mind for her and his anger began to cool enough that he could remember his manners and reputation as the Cold King. When they finally reached the door he turned to the queen and bowed.
"I apologize you had to witness such behavior. My servants are usually better behaved."
Sola murmured something akin to agreement but wondered what type of monster she had delivered herself to.
"My housekeeper will be up shortly to assist you with whatever you need."
He found Abelina in the kitchens and merely said, "We have an unexpected guest in the south wing, see to her."
He was back out of the kitchens before she could even rise from her chair.
The king's anger rekindled when he returned to his chambers and realized he had missed the tenth bell.
Furious, he lashed out at the first thing he laid eyes on-Calia's sewing basket. With a primal scream he snatched it from the floor and flung it against the wall. Yarn and hooks and spools of thread exploded from the basket, scattering everything over the floor. He kicked most of the contents into the fireplace before ripping off his coat and sinking into his chair.
The seldom used decanter of spirits winked in the firelight and he poured a full glass. Calia's defiance had unleashed a fury in him he had never known. He growled and got up to pace.
Fear and doubt were creeping in and for the first time in hundreds of years he felt vulnerable. He should have never told her about his sister and he should have never allowed her to touch him. But he hadn't been lying when he told Calia she reminded him of his sweet sister.
He thought of the both of them and kicked her armchair. It was something more than familiar fondness or her gentle spirit that had his stomach knotting painfully-and he hated it.
He wanted to hate Calia for coming into his life and disrupting his schedule, for making him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time.
The king knocked back the glass of amber liquid and several more after that before passing out in front of his fire.
In the morning he felt no better but his emotions were numbed. He coldly outlined a plan for putting Calia back into her proper place and to give him some distance from her. His meals were delivered but he neither noticed nor acknowledged them. The day was silent and somber and cold and he was able to sleep that night without the help of alcohol.
The king woke the next day without anger. He sat at his desk, trying to decide if his punishment had been swift and harsh enough to ensure she never disobeyed or embarrassed him again. His mind wandered and he wondered if she would be angry.
The king swore under his breath. He did not care how she felt; she was a servant, nothing more.
Finally he decided her punishment was severe enough and descended to free her from her cell. He stood outside of it for a long moment, listening, and heard nothing. Good. Her foolish tears wouldn't do her any good.
The king opened the door and stood at the threshold. In the gloom he could barely see her sitting in the corner.
"I have decided your punishment is complete. Of course, we will be discussing your actions and future discipline should you ever defy me again."
She remained silent.
"I expect an apology for your actions and gratitude for releasing you."
She still said nothing and he ground his teeth together in anger.
"Perhaps you need a few more days to think upon who is the king and who is the servant?"
She still said nothing and his fury erupted. "You will not be insolent to me!" he shouted, stepping into the room. The chill overcame him immediately. He did not remember the dungeons being so cold but he could see his own breath.
"Calia?" he whispered. He leaned down to see her better and gasped. Her eyes were half open but rolled back in her head and her lips were a dark blue. At a glance he took in the window covered only by bars, the lack of fresh hay, blankets and water.
"No," he said to himself and reached for her. Her neck was as cold as the stone beneath his feet and tiny puffs of steam came from her slack mouth much less frequently than they should have.