1. Isara

  A ‘blessing’ from Morvall was usually seen as a curse - something that Isara Corry knew well by the looks she received when she removed her glove in public.

  It had never felt quite so much like a curse as it did right now, when the seam on her glove had split, exposing the skin on her finger just enough for it to brush against the sheets that she was bundling towards the washroom. She already knew that Lord Broening had interesting tastes in the bedroom - she had heard enough whispers amongst the maids to know that to be picked to warm his bed was certainly not cause for celebration - but to actually feel the memory of the poor girl from last night was another thing entirely.

  Chains. Pain. Blood. A familiar face…

  Isara grimaced, bile rising to her throat at the sensation as she recoiled from the touch.

  “What is it?” Kiva asked. Isara just raised her split glove in reply. Kiva sighed. “You really should ask Mrs Palmer to take you off washing duty. She will definitely change your duties if you ask - you’re obviously her favorite.”

  “And make everyone else despise me even more?” Isara quirked an eyebrow. “Besides, it’s my fault. I meant to mend the seam last night, but I got too caught up reading. It’s not usually too bad, it just appears that these sheets were from the room Lord Broening was staying in.” A shiver ran up her spine at the memory. “Somebody should probably check on Ylsa from the kitchen, she’s the lucky lady that he chose yesterday.”

  She expected Kiva to reply to something along the lines of ‘she deserves it’. Neither of them were particularly fond of Ylsa. She was vain and had dreams of rising above her station. Not to mention a devout Ulgrin worshipper, and as soon as she had seen Isara’s Morvall-mark she had decided to make her life an absolute nightmare.

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  Instead, Kiva grimaced and nodded. “I’ll ask someone to check in on her.”

  Apparently even their hatred of Ylsa was nothing compared to their disgust at Lord Broening.

  “Come on Issy, let’s get this done. Cook burned a batch of buns, so we might get something fresh for lunch today!” Kiva swapped her own basket of washing with Isara’s before pushing open the washroom door and stepping in.

  -

  The staff at the castle were always fed, but warm fresh bread was always a treat. It didn’t matter that Cook scowled as she handed over the roll with the most black on it. Or that the table was already full, so she and Kiva had to perch on a windowsill, aprons spread to catch the crumbs lest they be forced to sweep the floor. She was just happy to have a meal in her belly.

  She had already finished her roll, and Kiva was just licking the last of the melted butter from her fingers when the sound of sobs in the corridor cut straight through the warmth in her chest.. Isara’s eyes shot to the doorway just in time to see Mrs Palmer hurrying past, her arms around the shoulder of a young girl dressed in the black uniform of a ladies maid. Her eyes met Kiva’s as they glanced at one another in curiosity, and she saw the furrowed eyes of the rest of the staff, and a whisper run down the table.

  “That’s the Princess’s maid”

  “What has she seen?”

  “She seemed very upset-”

  “I’m looking for someone called Isara Corry.” A louder voice cut through the whispers, and Isara jumped to her feet at her name. A man stood in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable to be in the cold underbelly of the castle.

  Indeed, he certainly seemed more suited for the upstairs, in his smart fitted tunic crafted from a fabric that probably cost more than Isara earned in a decade.. The solid grey trim suggested that this was somebody who worked for the king, but Isara was never involved enough upstairs to remember everyone. Judging by the signet ring on his finger, this was somebody who had the King’s ear.

  He regarded Isara as she stood before him. “Are you Isara Corry?” he asked. Isara could only nod. He asked, Isara could only wordlessly nod. “Follow me.” He said, voice tight as he turned to leave. Isara turned to Kiva, a look of terror on her friend's face that was matching hers.

  “What’s she done now?” someone whispered behind her as she hurried behind the tall man. She had no idea what she had done, but she knew that this couldn’t be anything good. A lowly servant being summoned by a King’s advisor wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, and for that servant to be Morvall-touched was even more foreboding.

  Her heart pounded in her ears as she climbed the stairs toward the King’s throne room.