He left her.
She slid to the floor, landing in a trembling pile. He was gone. By the grace of Providence, he was gone. Relief and pent-up fear coursed through her and burst forth into racking sobs. He was gone. He was gone.
But he would be back.
When she entered the kitchen at lunchtime, the other servants stopped talking and looked at their plates as if eating took all their concentration. Generosity scooted over to make room for her on the bench. "Sit by me, my Lady."
"I'm not a lady."
"I'm sorry. The foot falls easily on the well-worn path," Generosity said. "But I'm glad you are still here, my La—Repentance. I feared for your life this morning. And I'm giving it true. I prayed for you, though, and Providence answered."
Repentance sighed. If Providence really did exist, he had an odd way of answering prayers. But she said nothing. She had no need to take Generosity's faith from her. Besides, she'd said a few prayers of her own during the morning, just in case, so she had no room to hold Generosity in disdain.
She ate in silence. As talk picked up around her, she listened with one corner of her mind and worried with another.
Could she tell the King that the prince had planned to kill her? Would he listen to her? The king had been kind to her—much kinder than Cawrocc or Jadin or Lord Malficc. But he was kind to all his slaves. The truth was that he was an overlord. He treated his slaves well, yes, but when it came down to it, he saw them as equal to yaks. He gave them the best of barns and the best of food, but Providence forbid that they ever refuse to pull his wagon. He'd carve a yak into roasts if it dared refuse a command. He couldn't look weak, after all.
And she had made him look weak.
But, how had the prince found out? Surely Sober didn't tell him.
Across the table from Repentance, Shamed pushed his plate away and stood. "You have cups of soup for Sober and Calamity today, Cook? I'll take them out to the vegetable shed."
Sober!
It felt like days—not hours—since she'd sat with him on the bench in the Village Circle. She needed to see him. She could ask him why he told. And who.
"Calamity and Sober have already come and gone," Cook said. She glanced at Repentance. "They were early today."
Repentance frowned. He'd betrayed her! She was in trouble, it was Sober's fault, and he didn't even have the decency to talk to her about it.
"Early?" Shamed scratched his head. "I did see them pull to a half hour ago. Same as always. When they didn't come in, I figured I'd take their cups of soup out to them."
"You figured off-center, then." Cook said. "They came and went early today and you've no reason to figure on it anymore."
Repentance spent the next half hour figuring on it, though. Wondering, as she took down her suncloths from their drying rack, what Sober was playing at.
She didn't stop figuring on it until she headed upstairs with her basket. As she placed her foot on the bottom step, fear over what awaited her at the top drove all thoughts of Sober from her mind.
But that afternoon Providence smiled on her. Or something like that. The prince did not return to make good on his promise to drive the king and the farmer from her thoughts.
At the end of the day, exhausted, more from the strain of the worry than the work she'd done, she made her way to the kitchen, where she ate dinner as quietly as she'd eaten lunch.
After dinner she tucked her chapped hands into her work smock pocket and followed Generosity to her new room. It was a little room with meager furnishings—a bed, a nightstand, a washbasin. No window. No fire. No pictures carved into the walls.
But she was alive.
There was that.
She fell into the bed thinking she'd not be able to sleep for worry over the prince. She planned to think through a defense. She would just rest her head on the pillow for a minute first.
"Time to get up." Generosity shook her gently.
Opening her eyes, Repentance attempted to focus in the dim room.
Generosity tucked Repentance's hair back. "I was thinking," she said. "Maybe this is a gift from Providence. You can button Sober Marsh, now."
Repentance slapped her hand away. "I'm not buttoning Sober Marsh. What would put such a thought in your head?" Generosity. She was so much like Comfort. Blind to the realities of slavery.
"I've seen how he looks at you. And how he looks when he talks about you. Talk about eyes-only!"
"When was he talking about me? Yesterday? He spread rumors about me quicker than water freezes on a wall."
"I didn't mean that. He'd never spread rumors about you. I'm sure of it."
"Someone did."
She dragged herself from bed, washed with a cold, damp rag, pulled on her work smock, and headed to the kitchen.
Breakfast was good, anyway. Hot pork sausage with fried potatoes. Cook took care of the servants.
Repentance worked all morning, looking over her shoulder at every sound, fearing the prince.
He never arrived.
At lunch, Calamity shuffled into the kitchen.
He never came on Tuesdays, but Repentance didn't care about that. She wanted to see Sober. She couldn't help but hope that he hadn't purposely betrayed her.
Behind Calamity came a young man, slouching
