Numb, she headed to the bathing room to prepare for the prince.
The slave knows well that he has no power over his fate. He is passed from master to master through no fault or merit of his own. But there is One who sits above slave and master both. It is the wise man, then, who holds his own plans loosely and bows to the interfering will and wisdom of Providence.
~Steadfast Atwater, Lessons Learned at My Father's Knee
Chapter 12
He looked nothing like the monster she had imagined. Sitting in the feasting hall, laughing with his friends, he looked quite pleasant. He was not young, but not ancient either. Maybe he'd seen thirty summers. When he lifted his gaze to her, she saw his pale blue eyes widen in surprise just before a glow of approval lit in them. Suddenly, her thin lowland gown felt too thin, and she blushed.
Jadin led her to the seat beside him. "Lord Malficc, I'm happy to introduce Repentance. She'll minister to your needs tonight."
He gave a slight nod without taking his gaze from Repentance.
She sat, relieved to be off of her shaky legs.
Around the table sat eight overlord men, all dressed as royalty, in fine satin shirts, brightly colored, and with their hair wrapped in silk turbans. To her left sat an older man, a lock of white hair escaping his head covering.
Repentance caught him studying her. She took a quick look at his eyes—pale blue. Lighter than the prince's, even. A little washed out from age.
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "What year are you in, child?" he asked.
"My sixteenth."
"Indeed," the old man said. "Indeed. I would have guessed precisely that, had I been forced to venture an opinion." He twisted toward her and reached one hand up to her neck. "Your hair is an arresting color," he said, brushing it back behind her left ear and letting it fall through his fingers.
She nodded politely, and then angled her seat a bit so that her back was slightly toward the old man. She was, after all, supposed to be entertaining the prince, not conversing with everyone else.
The prince smiled at her. A nice smile. Lots of shiny, white teeth. Maybe the girls were lying. Maybe he was nice.
Some of the other girls sashayed in, dressed as Repentance was, in thin lowland gowns and with their hair piled in curls on top of their heads. Each one carried a covered serving dish. They looked the overlord men in the eye, giggling and mincing as they went. As they circled the table looking for empty spots for their food dishes they swung their hips and brushed up against the men, and as they put the food down, they bent low, letting their gowns gape open.
The men grinned—some chuckled—and pulled chairs out, bidding the girls to sit. As they fought for the chance to pour drinks, Repentance finally understood why the girls liked it when the royal party came. Of course the farmers and the owners of the eateries who came every week worshipped the girls. But to be so desired by royalty was another thing altogether. The greater the men, the greater the honor for the girls.
She glanced over at the handsome prince. Hers was the greatest honor of all, then.
He couldn't really be mean. The others were just jealous. How could a man with such a face be as cruel as they said he was?
Jadin surveyed the table. "Everything is to your satisfaction, your highness?"
The prince nodded.
"But not to mine," the old man said.
"Your worship?" Jadin looked stunned.
The noise in the room suddenly dimmed.
"I have been given no girl," the old man said.
"But, King Fawlin, you have ... never required a girl before. I was ... unaware …."
Repentance twisted in her chair to see the old man better. King Fawlin. This, then, was the man who had beheaded his button mate and enslaved the lowborns two hundred and fifty years earlier. How could he still be alive? The hot springs must have amazing restorative powers.
"I am not assigning blame," the king said. "You need not stammer out a defense. Simply rectify the situation."
"By all means, your worship. I'll have a girl sent immediately."
"I'll take this one," he said, indicating Repentance. "I'm sure Lord Malficc won't mind."
She gasped.
"Oh," Jadin said, looking at Repentance in a daze. "Oh."
"Woman!" the king said. "Retrieve another girl for my nephew."
Jadin jerked. "Oh, of course. Of course. Another girl for Lord Malficc."
Lord Malficc was smiling. With his mouth. Not with his eyes. "It's just as well," he said. His eyes, Repentance thought, burned with an anger that belied his words. "I was hoping for Tawnic tonight anyway. She knows how to take care of a man. Let my uncle break in this new girl. It's about time he did some work."
The other men burst into laughter.
The king smiled and lifted his glass in salute to the prince.
Jadin bowed and backed out of the room.
Repentance's mouth went dry. Two hours earlier if anyone had told her that her fortune was going to get worse she would have thought it impossible. She was glad Jadin had taken away her breakfast because her stomach, the one she thought couldn't tie itself any tighter, clutched in fear.
The king set to his dinner, completely ignoring her.
She drank. And drank. And still her mouth felt dry.
Tawnic came in, bathed and dressed and smiling, but Repentance, as she scooted her chair over to make room, smelled fear on the girl.
"Tawnic, my old friend," the prince said. "My uncle has stolen the new girl from under me and I'll have to drown my sorrows
