Flora Page 7

  "What are you afraid of?" Lord Reynald said, his breath wafting along her skin. "You have already lost everything else, so you might as well start on a new path with me. Either that or your brothers suffer until you do."

  "Fine," she said. She needed to buy some time anyway, and would do anything to get him away from her.

  "Lovely, I knew you would cooperate," he said, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. Her bound arms and legs stopped her from dodging it as goosebumps peppered her body. She had to settle for trying to crack her skull against his as he backed up.

  He dodged it and laughed, still leaning down, but Flora could finally see him clearly as he swayed there with his hands on his knees so that his head was at her level, far enough away that at least she felt like her lungs could refill with pure air.

  "You will be escorted to your new home. No trying to escape. You will be watched. Be a good girl and have fun in court," he said as he stood.

  Flora blinked. "Court?"

  "My target is a Lady of the court. Well, Lady of sorts," he laughed. "We will have to heal you up. That bruise on your face will not help you fit into this particular crowd, but there is always a plan B." He looked her up and down again. "You are rather plain so it should be easy enough to hide you among the gems in these walls. I might have to work with Harriet more often, she was so willing to let you go, but," he said with a smile that grew, "we have time for you to get adjusted to your new living situation before we get too far ahead of ourselves."

  "Harriet—" Flora started then stopped.

  Lord Reynald's grin grew. "She was quite willing to part with your service for a few months after some persuasion, even a few years. But you need not worry about her, she is well taken care of, you were quite expensive. Did you know?"

  From the courtyard outside, a yell shouted. "Quake!"

  Lord Reynald braced his legs to hold himself but Flora stared up at the man, her body quivering with the room as the last night fell into place. Harriet had marked herself by getting between her and her family.

  "And no weapons," Lord Reynald continued, "maybe after the task you will be worthy of being kept in service. I hear you like knives though, and maybe one day that could be arranged. Life is better when you work for the king."

  As he made to leave Flora craned her head around to the door behind her, as much as she pulled she could only see him from the corner of her eye. "And who exactly is this Lady I am getting close to? Wouldn't be the queen would it? I hear she is quite the lady," Flora said with a laugh.

  "It is none other than Lady Miranda Dells. I believe you know the name," he said softly, pausing as he left. "She leaves at the end of summer, so we will get you acquainted soon enough. But for now, be happy you are still alive. Welcome to the castle of the upper terrace Flora," he said, shutting the door behind him, leaving her locked in the room alone.

  Flora leaned forward in her chair and as she waited for whoever it was that was going to come to drag her off, her mind narrowed in on Harriet. Her fists clenching with the little movement they had behind her.

  The Jist of Trust

  The bag was lifted from her head and her jaw clenched tight as she stared around at the small four walls of her cell. It was so similar to the tavern she had known for years that she almost felt at home. This cell had scratched stone sides instead of marked wood, but the same amount of dirt covered the floor. The same amount of emptiness filled the room around the bed which sat on crates feet above the floor. The same amount of morning light even came into the cell through a small, rectangular, barred window set right below the ceiling, and above the low bed.

  The guard that brought her soon left, grinning as he watched her take in her surroundings. He had been happy pushing her along the hallways and stairs blind to her cell. Even happier when he was searching her for knives, though to her satisfaction, he missed a few.

  She pulled the small knife from her hair, which was so filthy it held firm off her face in the same position. The wildness suited her as she went to the solid battered door.

  Lorcel had tried to teach her over the years about locks. He had even gifted her the hairpin knife that could double as a sort of flimsy lock pick if she was in dire need. If her patience was with her she could sometimes open a lock, and if ever he had intended for her to use it, it would be now.

  She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants. She tried to hold still but they were shaking as she tried to put the point of the pin into the barely noticeable pinhole at the top of the lock.

  An earthquake rattled through the room and she braced her one hand along the stone wall beside the wood, pulling the lock pick back. She waited, breathing to calm her self she kept her eyes on the ceiling. She relaxed as dirt stopped falling from it, and she hoped it would stay firm for as long as she was in the prison. A calm penetrated her surroundings as soon as the ground stilled and she took another deep breath, returning her attention to the doorknob. She found it hard to focus on the door, and the knob became blurry. She blinked rapidly, willing her vision to come back into focus.

  As he hand touched the now steady door knob, it other end jiggled and had her bouncing back from it, hiding the pin in her closed fist. Her bouncy hair now falling around her face down past her shoulder with the momentum of her lurching. She braced herself against the farther back room as the door opened.

  "Hello, Lord Reynald," said Flora, clearing her throat, her eyes narrowing as she watched another guard enter with him.

  "Stay civil and this will all go well," said Reynald. "You have met Sir Oswald I see," he said setting his hand with satisfaction on his hips. "He will watch you and deal with you if necessary."

  Flora sent him a tight smile though her posture wobbled. "We will be the best of friends," she said.

  Oswald stared at the back of Reynald. His hand on his sword and a scowl on his upper lip crowned in a patchy whip of curly brown hair. He seemed to disappear as another person slithered in behind him. A woman with wicked deep red lips.

  Her back was pin straight. Not a dirty blonde hair out of place under her tight bun, her large corset squeezed under her grey dress so tightly that Flora could barely tell if she was breathing. She could have been a pale statue for all Flora could tell. Perfectly at home along the cold granite walls around them.

  "Hello precious," Lord Reynald smiled to the Lady. The woman looked her up and down, chin barely moving, eyes staring blandly, her nose peeling back so slightly.

  "Lady Willa Doniae," he motioned to Flora, eyes boring into Lady Willa. "This is that street rat whom I had told you about."

  Turning back to Flora he spoke. "She is going to teach you the ways of the court. I can't unleash you until I know you won't bite the good Nobles. Be civil, you don't want me to have to deal with your brothers do you?" He threatened, a laugh mixing with his voice.

  Flora cocked her eyebrow up at Lord Reynald, before turning her sight towards Lady Willa. She curtsied as best she could to the lady, who barely raised her own eyebrows in recognition.

  Flora was surprised to see her move. Flora turned her eyes back to Lord Reynald who was watching Lady Willa with the same fierce intensity he gave her.

  "She already does tricks," he said. "We—"

  "How do I even know they are still alive?" Flora cut in. Nearly all of her brothers had a fairly large list of crimes that could be held against them, Thren and Lorcel especially.

  "Because I say so. Do you expect to be treated fairly? Fair is for people who can buy it," said Reynald. "Be thankful your neck is still attached to your head," he finished his cheeks lifting.

  "That's not an answer," Flora said.

  "Well, I suppose you don't know then," Lord Reynald smiled, "also I would watch out for snakes while you are here. Some still wander the prison. I think you will find them bigger than the ones on the terraces." He then shut the door behind him, leaving Flora with Lady Willa Doniae and Flora's guard. He was a fidgeting stone by the door, as he swayed in his boots, now looking at the
wall across the room.

  "Sir Oswald leave us for a moment," Lady Willa's musical voice sounded, as it ricocheted off the cell walls.

  "I have orders from Lord Reynald not to leave this room, my Lady," Replied Oswald, his eyes finally fixing on Willa, noticeably trying to keep them steady.

  Lady Willa turned on the guard which got his attention, and his back snapped even straighter. "I will call you if I need you," she said in a tone that left no room for debate.

  Flora waited for Oswald to say something, but he soon bowed, clenching and unclenching the top of his sword. "Of course, my Lady."

  Flora chuckled at the guard's state as he ran from the room.

  "Impressive," she said, "Maybe we can swap tricks after we get to know each other."

  Lady Willa turned her sharp gaze back and circled Flora, ignoring her comments, taking everything in with a bemused gaze that slowly grew. The point of her shoes clicking along the floor in short measured steps. Flora felt hot as she took the women's silent judgements.

  "Do you like what you see?" She asked, but Lady Willa only continued to circle.

  "We won't become friends if you don't say anything to me?" Flora said again with a light cough.

  Lady Willa's body halted in front of her as her dress continued to fan around her, swaying to a final pause, her smile fading.

  "Whatever you have in your palm you are going to hand to me," Lady Willa said.

  Flora could hear flies buzzing as silence followed the demand. "Right now," Lady Willa said again.

  Flora cocked her head in innocence, "I do not know what you mean."

  Lady Willa's face was blank, her lips pressed tight. "It is in the best interest of both of us if, right now, you cooperate."

  Lady Willa slowly reached for Flora's fist, delicately grabbing it, pulling it towards her before turning it over. Flora spun open her fingers as she let out a breath. Revealing the hairpin that was her chance at freedom.

  "How beautiful," Lady Willa said as she snatched it out of her palm, being delicate around the pins razor edges and quickly pocketing it, to be lost from sight in the folds of cloth, as it had never existed in the first place. Flora felt faint as it disappeared. "I can't reliably leave you with that," Lady Willa said.

  "What do you already know?" Lady Willa asked Flora as she began circling once more.

  "The jist," Flora said, trying hard to still hear Lady Willa's voice as she felt her hope disappear. Flora saw the spark that flashed in the lady's eyes as she turned around the room.

  "Ah yes, the— jist," Lady Willa said. "I'm afraid I cannot trust the— jist. It will not help you blend in with the educated Nobles here."

  "Do one of those— Nobles include you?" Flora asked, stumbling over her words.

  "But of course," Lady Willa said with the bow of her head.

  "And what kind of noble are you?" asked Flora.

  "Would it satisfy you if I said I run the slave market?" Lady Willa said briskly, her eyes on fire but none of that fire crept into her voice. "Or would you prefer the criminal work camps."

  "Your choice," said Flora, swallowing a tickle in her throat.

  "Ah yes, well it is so much more horrible than that. If indeed apple orchards destroy the peasants lives," said Lady Willa who continued to inspect Flora. Every inch of herself felt exposed as it went on and on.

  "Are you going to ask to marry me soon, or do I not meet your standards," Flora asked, twisting and clicking her tongue in her mouth.

  Lady Willa looked up. "You are not my type," she said as her lip tingled, "to much trouble."

  Flora opened her mouth to ask again but Lady Willa got there first. "If you were smart, you would take the advise that I am sure Lord Reynald has already given you, and be quiet."

  She clamped her mouth shut, breathed through her nose and counted the few blessings she had, which all surmounted to the three knives still hidden beneath her clothes. "I know how to receive the Nobles—My Lady. Had to, to get them to trust me," Flora conceded, giving a wink to Lady Willa as a rough cough escaped.

  "Ah yes, trust, I am sure many a young Noble son has seen the inside of a dark alley you led them to," she responded.

  A smile tugged at Flora's lips. "I couldn't say, My Lady, you would have to ask them."

  "But of course," Lady Willa snipped, having finished circling Flora she went to the door, where she rapt lightly twice. The sound felt hallow to Flora as it dispersed.

  Sir Oswald opened it, his ear must have been tight to the door. "Tell Lord Reynald that under the right— circumstances I'm sure I can get her to serve his purpose," Lady Willa said, moving past him into the hall.

  "When do I start?" Flora butted in, asking Lady Willa, who slowly turned her head in Flora's direction. The woman was like an owl Flora thought, nothing moved but her neck.

  Lady Willa's frown deepened as she stood there. "Soon," Was all she said.

  "I'll be here," Flora said, her voice echoing down the hallways beyond, paired with a wobbling curtsy.

  Lady Willa's face stayed frowning as she turned away. Oswald shut the door quickly afterwards, not giving Flora even a moment to move beyond it.

  Love Letters

  "Hey Oswald, can't a Lady in service to the crown get some decent food?" Flora said, her voice hoarse as she banged on the door of her cell. She coughed as she finished, her throat raw.

  It had been a few days, and Lady Willa had not yet returned for the lessons that were promised to her. The only time the door would ever open was for a bowl of greasy gruel to be dropped off. That had happened a few hours ago. Flora thought it was worse even then the grime Harriet used to serve her, tasting like old wood chips. Flora dearly missed the feeling of the wind on her cheeks. At least she'd had that at Harriets, rather than the stale cell in the castle.

  Nevertheless, Flora was glad she did not have to share it with the small devils that came scratching at the window, looking for a way in. Their eyes glowed against the thick glassy pane blocking the entry, too thick for them to break. It was bad enough having fallen asleep the one day only to find a brown snake had taken up residence on her bed with her. Her scream had alerted Oswald and he had rushed in as the snake rushed out. Its tail still on the one side of the room as its head was out the door.

  "Be quiet, you are disturbing the other prisoners. They are trying to sleep," came Oswald's soft voice from the other side of the door.

  "They don't seem to mind," Flora said, her ear pressing against the wood but hearing no response from anyone in the hallway other than Oswald's own clear breathing. "If there are even any other prisoners around here. So, how bad did you mess up to be stuck guarding me day and night anyway?"

  "I cannot respond to you," Oswald said.

  "But you keep responding so I presume you must be lonely, and I am the best you got," Flora said with a weak grin. "Am I wrong?"

  Flora's grin grew when she received no response. She was getting to him, and, as far as she was concerned, he deserved it.

  "Do you work for the King or Reynald?" Flora asked.

  "Lord Reynald ordered me to be here," Oswald said. "The King and Queen order him."

  "Ah yes those two—" Flora said, "I almost forgot about them, and their big pompous—."

  "The Queen has many ears—so watch what you say," Oswald said.

  "Does she?" Flora said back, coughing. "How do you know that? Did she tell you herself?"

  There was no response.

  "Are you the queens—."

  Oswald's fist thumping against the wall of her door made Flora jump back onto the balls of her feet. She was not sure it was the growing darkness outside, or her vision nearly fading, but nevertheless a grin grew on her face as she realized her barbs were finally starting to stick.

  "I seem to only destroy things," Oswald said, passingly thoughtfully.

  She closed her eyes. "Did you guards destroy the Flower Market?" Flora asked her voice shallow.

  Oswald remained silent. Flora fidgeted as she waited and
she softly padded to the door and pressed her ear against the wood. Again she could only hear Oswald's soft voice on the other side.

  "Wouldn't have had to if you hadn't gotten yourself in there," Oswald said as something else grated along the floor, his foot perhaps.

  An earthquake rumbled the floor below her, but she continued her train of thought as she bounced along the ground. "Well, I didn't choose to be in here Oswald!" Flora shouted at him, a coughing fit overtaking her as she raised her fist to punch the door in front of her. A lurch of the ground pushing her towards the wall faster than she had anticipated.

  Her fingers screamed and she grasped her stubbed fingers with her other hand as she hopped weakly around the cell. Muttering every curse she knew until the pain soothed and the ground became still again. Her jaw was cracking under the pressure of her teeth and her breathing caught.

  "I did not get myself in here," Flora said again with a cough that lasted a whole minute. Tears were welling in her eyes as she thought of her crushed market. Her heart breaking a little more as she pictured her sanctuary brown and wilted.

  "Stand back from the door," Oswald said. Flora, crept back only slightly as the door swung in, moving the stale air in her cell. A light followed the boy in, and Flora saw Oswald place a small candle on the tray.

  "Hello, Walt. Here to drag me away to be tortured in the night?" Flora weezed as she backed away. "Whatever did happen to that Noble man?"

  Walt shrugged his shoulders but his eyes did not meet Flora's.

  "Tray?" asked Walt, his voice cracking. He held out the tray in front of him, avoiding the smell that wafted up as he motioned it towards her.

  That was when Flora really took a look at the treat that was going to be given to her this time. Flora pointed to the floor, where she had left the last tray, half eaten with grease puddled on the uneven floor around it. She backed away from Walt's shadowed figure as he knelt down to grab it, his eyes lowered. He fumbled with the wooden objects on the tray for a moment as his sleeves fell around him, before standing and pushing his clothing back up his arms and leaving swiftly through the door.