Ink Mage Read Free Page B

household. She took one look at him skulking around the kitchen, pointed a finger at him and hollered, “You! Come with me now, boy.” A fever had run through the castle maids, and half of them were down with sour stomachs and green complexions. There was a feeling of panic among the castle servants as beds went unmade and chamber pots were not emptied. Bruny had pressed into service any set of idle hands she could find, and since it was generally understood that indoor servants outranked outdoor servants, Alem had obeyed.
    They’d even made him bathe! His pale skin was pink from a cold-water scrubbing, his feathery blond hair puffed and downy. “You can’t go among them nobles smelling of horse dung,” Bruny had insisted.
    Alem headed into the castle to gather dirty laundry and promptly got lost. This place is enormous . He slept on a straw pallet among the other stable boys and had come to think of his grandmother’s three-room cottage as roomy and extravagant. But this … Well, that’s why they call it a castle, thicko .
    He finally found the right hallway. He’d been told that now was a good time to collect the dirty laundry from the bed chambers of the Duke and his family. They were out and about, up on the walls or down in the town, preparing for the Perranese. He opened the heavy wooden door to the first room, iron hinges creaking. He entered.
    And froze.
    A woman sat on a cushioned chair in front of a dressing table. She held a boot in her hand. The other boot was still on her other foot. The Duke’s daughter. You’re not supposed to be here!
    “Uh …” Alem began to back out of the room. “I didn’t know … I mean … I thought everyone was … I’ll just …” Faster, you idiot, Get out, get out !
    “Who are you?”
    He froze again. “I’m—” He almost said Alem. Thicko, she doesn’t care about your name . “Uh, the dirty laundry.”
    She looked him up and down, a quirky smile flickering across her face. “New maid?”
    “Yes.” No! Stable boy. HEAD stable boy !
    She shrugged. “Bruny’s become broad minded.” She waved vaguely at the rest of the room. “Come on, then.”
    Alem left one of the baskets in the hall, entered her room with the other. He moved quickly around the huge canopy bed, desk, divan, picking up articles of clothing strewn over furniture or dropped on the floor. He never would have thought the nobility could be so messy. Alem supposed if he owned this much clothing he might get careless with it too.
    He hurriedly scooped up breeches and skirts and thick woolen socks and blouses and … something extremely thin and delicate.
    Underwear.
    Alem shoved it into the basket quickly. Don’t look at it!
    He glanced about. Nothing left. Good. He headed for the door. Fast.
    “Wait.”
    The word hit him in the back like an arrow. He turned slowly, looked at her.
    She crooked her finger at him in a come here gesture.
    Alem went to where she sat at the dressing table. She lifted one foot, the one without the boot, pointing her toes at the ceiling. “Don’t forget this.” She took the tip of her sock between a thumb and forefinger and pulled it off. Her toes were small and pink. She dangled the sock a moment as if it were a fish she’d caught, and then let it drop into the basket.
    She sat back, lifted the other boot and looked at Alem expectantly. “This one now.”
    Alem looked from the boot to her face and back again. This one what ?
    “I could barely get the other one off,” she said. “They’re new boots, not broken in. I think my feet have swollen.”
    And just what exactly did she expect Alem to do about that?
    “I need you to help me get it off,” she said.
    Alem set the basket aside. He grabbed the heel, moved the other hand to take her by the calf, hesitated, his eyes flickering up to hers.
    She nodded. “Go ahead.
    He grabbed her leg, tugged on the boot. Tight. He was afraid to pull harder.
    “Turn around,” she told him. “You’re not getting any