you might be hungry,” he said.
The sight of fresh bread and cheese reminded me that I had missed breakfast. My stomach rumbled. “Dorian come in, I could use a friend about now.” I put my depression aside and put on my broadest smile for him.
I ate everything he had brought and soon found myself collecting the crumbs from the plate. Now that my belly was relatively more at ease I felt more able to talk, so I spent some time describing my woes to Dorian. He was suitably impressed with the depths of my folly. “You sure don’t do things by halves Mort,” he remarked.
I had to agree.
“At least you got to escort Lady Rose to the parlor,” my friend has always been easy to read.
“Ok let’s hear it, I saw you watching her as we came in. Do you know her somehow?”
He looked embarrassed, “You remember when I was fostered out last year?” It was a common practice for the sons and daughters of nobility to live for a year or two at another lord’s estate. It helped them learn more about the handling of the kingdom, gave them a broader experience of the world, and forged ties with other members of the ruling class.
“I do, someplace in Albamarl wasn’t it?” Then I remembered, Highcastle’s home was in the capitol. “Ohhh…,” I articulated. I have a remarkable vocabulary when I put my mind to it. Finally a concise sentence came to me. “You were smitten huh?”
“Basically,” he replied. “We didn’t speak very much though, so I doubt she even remembers me.”
“You might be wrong there,” I said, remembering her glancing at him earlier, but I didn’t say anything more about it. We talked for a while longer before he left. But neither of us had any decent ideas regarding my problem with Devon Tremont.
Once he had gone I headed to the library to retrieve the third book, A Grammar of Lycian.
Chapter 6
Rarest of all are those born with both a high emittance and a high capacitance. How many are born so is uncertain, probably no more than one among thousands, and few of those survive past adolescence. The reason for this is that their talents are extremely dangerous, more so to themselves than others. A good analogy for this would be a child given a razor blade or other dangerous implement; they are more likely to harm themselves than learn to use it properly. Those few that do survive to adulthood find themselves alone with little guidance in the proper use of their gifts unless they are lucky enough to be found by someone of knowledge. Due to these unfortunate facts truly gifted mages, or wizards as they are often called, are quite rare, and usually solitary, except in some very populous cities.
It was late as Penelope Cooper walked down the hallway. Her duties had kept her overlong and she was tired. All she could think of was getting to her quarters and finding some much deserved rest. As chance would have it she passed through the same corridor that led to the library. Had she passed through only five minutes earlier she would have encountered Mordecai and things might have gone very differently.
As it was she was alone in the hallway and wrapped in her thoughts. She felt guilty for her behavior earlier. She knew Mort hadn’t meant to frighten her, but she had been completely unprepared when that fiercely brilliant ball of light had blinded her in his room. That had not been what she had expected when he had her draw the curtains and sit on the bed next to him. Truthfully she was not certain how she would have reacted if he had made a pass at her, she had much less experience with men than he seemed to believe.
The subsequent darkness followed by Marcus’ abrupt appearance had thoroughly unnerved her and thrown her into a panic. Her reaction had left her abashed and she hadn’t known how to respond when he had looked at her in the sun room earlier, which made her feel worse.
She was interrupted in her reverie by a door opening as she passed.
“Miss, would you mind helping me for a moment?” Lord Devon stood in the doorway looking upset and anxious. Terrific, she was exhausted already and now it seemed her sleep would be delayed even longer.
“Certainly your lordship, how may I be of service?” she responded in her pleasantest tone. She took pride in her job and wouldn’t let something like fatigue spoil her performance.
“Did you clean my room earlier? After my bags were delivered?” he asked.
“No your lordship, I cleaned and aired all the rooms this morning before you and the other guests arrived.” She hoped this wasn’t leading up to some petulant insistence that the pillows or sheets weren’t fresh enough.
“Perhaps you could help me then, I seem to have lost something, would you help me look?” Despite his reputation among the castle staff he seemed exceptionally polite.
“I really shouldn’t be entering your chambers this time of night, sir,” she replied. He seemed harmless enough but that sort of rumor could ruin a girl at her age.
“I understand. I’ll leave the door open if you prefer. It's just that I’ve lost a necklace and I’m beside myself trying to find it, it’s an heirloom you see.” He turned his back to her and went inside, leaving the door open.
With an inward sigh she followed him. He began searching through the drawers of the dressing table. “Would you check the wardrobe for me? It’s dark in there and I can’t see very well.” She had no sooner opened the wardrobe and leaned in to look when she heard the door shut, followed by the sound of a key in the lock.
She whirled around. Devon was putting the key into his pocket. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she saw the look on his face. She had heard stories of maids abused by young lords before, but things like this had never happened within the walls of Lancaster Castle. Such was the Duke’s reputation that no one had dared affront his hospitality before.
“Sir if you think to spoil me, I’ll scream. The good duke won’t stand for treating the staff like this,” she tried to keep her voice level but she could feel panic setting in. Devon had at least fifty pounds on her and while she was no shrinking violet she had little doubt he could overpower her. Her eyes scanned the room frantically, looking for anything she could use as a weapon to keep him at bay. It occurred to her that if she injured a peer of the realm, she might be put to death at worst, beaten and dismissed at best.
He chuckled, “Go ahead. Scream if you like. Who will take your word over mine? I found you rifling through my possessions when I returned to my room.” As he said this he idly reached over and knocked a jewelry case from the top of the dressing table. Rings and jewels worth more than she’d ever earned were scattered across the floor. “Looks like you were startled when I found you.”
Despair crashed over Penny in a dark wave. There was no escape left to her now, in an instant she knew her life was over, her dreams dashed by this pompous and spoiled lordling. The thought made her angry and she determined to scream anyway. If she was to be driven into the mud she would make sure as much dirt rubbed off on the bastard who had done it as possible. She took a deep breath.
“Relax. I have no intention of harming you my dear, or deflowering you either, if that is what you fear. I simply want the answers to a few questions.” He was smiling reassuringly at her.
“What questions?” she asked, for a second hope lit within her and she was ashamed at how easily he had manipulated her.
“Tell me about your friend, Master Eldridge.” That confused her utterly. Why is he interested in Mort? she thought to herself. As far as she knew Mordecai should be completely beneath the notice of someone like Devon Tremont.
“Pardon sir, I don’t know him at all, he only recently arrived here and…” she started, but Devon stepped forward. She paused. He stood only inches from her now.
“What was your name girl?”
“Penelope sir, but folks here call me Penny,” she hated how servile she sounded.
“Well, Penelope who goes by Penny, let me explain something. Are you listening?” He still sounded calm but she could hear his breath coming more hoarsely now. She didn’t trust herself to speak but she managed to nod. If you’ve ever been confronted by a large wild animal when you were a child you might understand how she felt. The menace was rolling off of him in waves.
