Summary:
Elizabeth is a young woman who is betrothed to Prince Steel. She does not love him and does not want to marry him. She confides in her servant, Giles, who is a loyal friend.
Giles is also unhappy about the betrothal. He tells Elizabeth that Steel is a liar and that he will make a terrible king. He suggests that Elizabeth should have him killed.
Elizabeth is shocked by Giles's suggestion, but she is also intrigued. She begins to think that it might be the only way to stop Steel from becoming king and causing harm to the kingdom.
Elizabeth asks Giles to find a spy who will kill Steel.
Elizabeth and Giles are discussing the possibility of killing Steel. Giles is reluctant to help her, as he knows that it is a dangerous and treasonous act. However, Elizabeth is determined to go through with it, as she believes that it is the only way to save the kingdom from Steel's tyranny.
Giles tries to reason with Elizabeth, but she is not listening. She is blinded by her hatred of Steel and her desire for freedom. In the end, Giles agrees to help her, but he is clearly unhappy about it.
The scene ends with Elizabeth's mother entering the room. She is unaware of the conversation that has just taken place, and she is overjoyed to hear that Elizabeth is to marry Steel.
Lady Sheeks is overjoyed that her daughter Elizabeth has been betrothed to the prince of Callea. She believes that this is the culmination of all her years of hard work and social climbing. She warns Elizabeth that she must be obedient if they are to succeed, but Elizabeth is only playing along to further her own ambitions.
The next day, Lady Sheeks throws a lavish betrothal tea and breakfast. In the afternoon, the engagement contract is signed in front of witnesses. Elizabeth is now officially betrothed to the prince, and Lady Sheeks is more proud than ever.
However, Elizabeth is not happy about the betrothal. She sees the prince as a pawn that she can use to achieve her own goals. She plans to ensnare him and bring about a golden age.
The passage ends with Elizabeth curled up in her bed, thinking about her plans. She is determined to succeed, no matter what it takes.
. She is afraid and alone, and she hears a noise in the hallway. She thinks it might be her friend Giles, but it turns out to be an intruder. The intruder puts his hand over her mouth and tells her not to scream. He says that he has been hired by Steel to spy on her, but he is intrigued by her own plans to find a spy. He asks her to meet him in the courtyard the next day before the espousal tea. Elizabeth is terrified, but she agrees to meet him.
Elizabeth is a young woman who is betrothed to Prince Steel. She does not love him and does not want to marry him. She confides in her servant, Giles, who is a loyal friend.
Giles is also unhappy about the betrothal. He tells Elizabeth that Steel is a liar and that he will make a terrible king. He suggests that Elizabeth should have him killed.
Elizabeth is shocked by Giles's suggestion, but she is also intrigued. She begins to think that it might be the only way to stop Steel from becoming king and causing harm to the kingdom.
Elizabeth asks Giles to find a spy who will kill Steel.
Elizabeth and Giles are discussing the possibility of killing Steel. Giles is reluctant to help her, as he knows that it is a dangerous and treasonous act. However, Elizabeth is determined to go through with it, as she believes that it is the only way to save the kingdom from Steel's tyranny.
Giles tries to reason with Elizabeth, but she is not listening. She is blinded by her hatred of Steel and her desire for freedom. In the end, Giles agrees to help her, but he is clearly unhappy about it.
The scene ends with Elizabeth's mother entering the room. She is unaware of the conversation that has just taken place, and she is overjoyed to hear that Elizabeth is to marry Steel.
Lady Sheeks is overjoyed that her daughter Elizabeth has been betrothed to the prince of Callea. She believes that this is the culmination of all her years of hard work and social climbing. She warns Elizabeth that she must be obedient if they are to succeed, but Elizabeth is only playing along to further her own ambitions.
The next day, Lady Sheeks throws a lavish betrothal tea and breakfast. In the afternoon, the engagement contract is signed in front of witnesses. Elizabeth is now officially betrothed to the prince, and Lady Sheeks is more proud than ever.
However, Elizabeth is not happy about the betrothal. She sees the prince as a pawn that she can use to achieve her own goals. She plans to ensnare him and bring about a golden age.
The passage ends with Elizabeth curled up in her bed, thinking about her plans. She is determined to succeed, no matter what it takes.
. She is afraid and alone, and she hears a noise in the hallway. She thinks it might be her friend Giles, but it turns out to be an intruder. The intruder puts his hand over her mouth and tells her not to scream. He says that he has been hired by Steel to spy on her, but he is intrigued by her own plans to find a spy. He asks her to meet him in the courtyard the next day before the espousal tea. Elizabeth is terrified, but she agrees to meet him.
giles returns, and exposes his feelings, until her mother intrrupts. When she is gone, Giles gives her a shocking revelation.
Elizabeth's eyes glazed o'er as she stared into nothingness. Smiles were improbable and deemed unnecessary. She raised her arms to be dressed in her white night kirtle, as she thought of Steel’s strange words.
Melanie came from behind and slipped the long gown o'er her head. A breeze of the lavender perfume fell o'er Elizabeth as the collar slipped by and under her raised chin.
The other senior maids, Hannah and Farrah, stood quietly beside her. No doubt 'the three' were waiting for their next moment alone to gossip about tonight. They had little else to do but talk free and dream, for none had a chance of marrying royalty, therefore she faulted them not.
She couldn't say she didn't wish to be of so little importance, that she might blend in and speak of another destined to marry him. O' le sigh. If only she were any kind of lady but herself. If she could but go back and be in the womb of another, and born with no privilege or need of gain. If. If, if , if. What good were these?
A prince longed to be a pauper. The lady he coveteth longeth be nobody. She ground her teeth and turned her jaw. Hm. Pity that she couldst say naught of it. She rather liked the idea of gaining an outside opinion absent of bias. Society assumes servants are a poor choice of friends. Filthy. Unintelligent. Lacking for vision or creativity. The friends they'd sooner permit only had one mind: how to live rich and marry well. Conversation, therefore, was of little excitement, variety, or interest.
She raised her brows and blinked in a single movement. Piffle. Her ladies, howe'er preferred, hadth no interest in questions but preferreth to do duty and be done.
They bowed and departed in silence, averting their eyes. They closed the doors behind them, leaving her to her troubled thoughts. There she waited, unmoving in the dark, for their appointed secret meeting.
She clapped once, and thence cupped his dry wrinkled face with both hands. She smiled wide.
"O’ Giles, thou spake with so little sincerity. We wot that much like me, thou liketh him not. Still, couldst it be not possible in some world, e'en Callea that..?"
"He, a man who wist naught but comfort, admiration, and wealth, may long to be a nomad covered in a swine's mud? To toil in sweat? To wot no new recognition, when his familiarity and affinity for it ist as natural as breath? And all for a woman of nigh a low standing, whom he sees nothing in except a beautiful face and birthing hips?"
"Aye," Elizabeth said, narrowing her eyes. Her smile dropped, "Thou art rightfully plain, but if I may spake in my defense: though I was not wise tonight, wisdom wouldst hath found us in the morrow. He hast won naught."
"'Of course," Giles sighed, thence breathing his cigar stench on her, "but we art sorry to be this plain, madam."
"We wist naught of what to do of her, if we may be honest," Elizabeth said, “But thou seemeth as though ye might be disappointed by the notion. It surely shouldst not vex thee so much as us?”
She looked down, thence away from him.
"We desire to trouble thee not, madam," he said, blinking as he lowered his voice. He touched her right shoulder and led his hand thither her forehead, as though he might thence run it through her fallen tresses.
Giles, howe'er...yes. Giles. When one needed a servant's view, he did better than all three ladies together.
"Leave us," she spake, lowering her hands to her sides.
They bowed and departed in silence, averting their eyes. They closed the doors behind them, leaving her to her troubled thoughts. There she waited, unmoving in the dark, for their appointed secret meeting.
.....
"What remark make ye of his remark?"
Giles leaned o'er her and tucked the plump white blanket under her narrow stomach. Her nose curled.
"Oh, Giles," she said, swatting ere her face, "Thy stench turns my stomach as Steel doth my heart."She shrunk back in disgust at the strengthened smell of cigars. What a folly. He wist her displeasure oft', yet he ne'er desired to rid himself of this pestilence.
Peradventure he bothered not, inasmuch as Elizabeth bothered not for Steel, for the confidence they hadth of secured placement. Giles wast a most wonderful and loyal friend, and the best in service that any lady might hath. She couldst do not without him, and Giles wist it.
She imagined this fantasy world, whence a prince deposed his throne, and ran away with this oppressed lady. To live in seclusion and happiness for the rest of their lives, despised by all the upstarts and nobility in the land. Simple people. No duty or protocol. O' couldst one imagine?
Giles looked up at her wistful eyes, and seemed displeased at her pleasure.
She imagined this fantasy world, whence a prince deposed his throne, and ran away with this oppressed lady. To live in seclusion and happiness for the rest of their lives, despised by all the upstarts and nobility in the land. Simple people. No duty or protocol. O' couldst one imagine?
Giles looked up at her wistful eyes, and seemed displeased at her pleasure.
He spake, "Spake ye that thou art his confidence, miss?" He raised his brows, "O’ what an honor! Amazing that he shouldst be so well guarded with this great secret that he confided this only in thee, and no royal advisor. Only a mere woman wast found worthy, and a lady who e'er disliked him well."
She clapped once, and thence cupped his dry wrinkled face with both hands. She smiled wide.
"O’ Giles, thou spake with so little sincerity. We wot that much like me, thou liketh him not. Still, couldst it be not possible in some world, e'en Callea that..?"
"He, a man who wist naught but comfort, admiration, and wealth, may long to be a nomad covered in a swine's mud? To toil in sweat? To wot no new recognition, when his familiarity and affinity for it ist as natural as breath? And all for a woman of nigh a low standing, whom he sees nothing in except a beautiful face and birthing hips?"
"Aye," Elizabeth said, narrowing her eyes. Her smile dropped, "Thou art rightfully plain, but if I may spake in my defense: though I was not wise tonight, wisdom wouldst hath found us in the morrow. He hast won naught."
"'Of course," Giles sighed, thence breathing his cigar stench on her, "but we art sorry to be this plain, madam."
"Be plain," she spake with a humpth, as she fell back and crossed her arms.
He looked across the empty room, and thence he leaned into her face. He wavered o'er her stilled countenance. So reluctant in expression, and yet so longing in his pillowed eyes.
Only the whispers of their slowing breaths remained betwixt them.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, puzzled, "If thou must spake, spake. But doest not leave us answerless. What hast thy manner vexed?"
Giles downcast his eyes and rolled his lips.
"Shalt thou yet permit, for thy mother's sake, Steel to hath thee,” he said, "E'en against thy will?"
He looked across the empty room, and thence he leaned into her face. He wavered o'er her stilled countenance. So reluctant in expression, and yet so longing in his pillowed eyes.
Only the whispers of their slowing breaths remained betwixt them.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, puzzled, "If thou must spake, spake. But doest not leave us answerless. What hast thy manner vexed?"
Giles downcast his eyes and rolled his lips.
"Shalt thou yet permit, for thy mother's sake, Steel to hath thee,” he said, "E'en against thy will?"
"We wist naught of what to do of her, if we may be honest," Elizabeth said, “But thou seemeth as though ye might be disappointed by the notion. It surely shouldst not vex thee so much as us?”
She looked down, thence away from him.
"We desire to trouble thee not, madam," he said, blinking as he lowered his voice. He touched her right shoulder and led his hand thither her forehead, as though he might thence run it through her fallen tresses.
She wast quick to turn back to him with alarm.
He withdrew to his chest. Whether ‘twas for the shame that he couldst be not freely tender, or his pity at her fate, she wist not. He wast her greatest of friends and as much treasured like a grandfather, but he wast also only her servant. There were limits to the comforts he couldst offer her.
"We art not well," she said, turning away from him.
She lowered her eyes, with all their woeful discontentment, and thence she crossed her arms. She sighed. The cogs stirred behind her eyes, but for naught in particular; only clumps of thoughts so interwoven that they were an indiscernable ball of vexation.
Deep down in the pit that hadth swelled in her belly, an answer tucked away in its abyss. Faint. Nigh unreachable. The sign offered hope that there wast yet a good thing that couldst be made from Steel’s folly.
"Sleep well, miss," Giles said, patting her hands, "and may God bless thee."
He arose from the bed.
No sooner wast his back turned to her didst she spake her heart.
"We like this matter not. Who art we, that he shouldst target us like sport? When he couldst hath the choice of thousands of other fain and unmarried ladies in the province," Elizabeth said, breaking her voice, "Wherefore couldst he not be likened to thee? Thou art a worthy gentleman who wouldst certainly leave what must not be his, unowned."
She despised the whiff of sweet and thick mucus building up, there in the tops of her throat. The itch whence she swallowed. The burning floodgates of tears which threatened to burst forth from her shaking eyes. O’ speak! Relie'e our burdens. Tell her that she must suffer not this fate, and there wast yet a way out.
Giles paused for a moment, and thence he walked slowly to the door. Now, causing much more grief to her than previous times, he hadth left her answerless again. This strangely visible and yet troubled spirit fell o'er him, but she wast too reluctant to inquire of its origin.
Despite this, she cared only for her care. Her eyes widened and dried up in an instant. She exhaled a relie'ed sigh, for the answer in her belly wast nigh, at last. Like a candle light coming thither one from the dark, it seemed to grow stronger. It hadth the smallest sense of understanding.
It whispered, and she answered back. Yea, yea. Come, and stronger! Tell us what we must do.
He opened her doors, slow enough to avoid a shrill creak.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, blinking.
"Yea, madam," he said, turning ‘round.
Darkness cloaked him well. His face lacked its usual glow. Nay, naught existed any hint of delight’s previous evidence. He seemed rather marred and close to disfigurement; plagued by a sudden and unspoken regret.
She sniffled hard, recalling the mucus back to her throat. Its scent, which oft made her likely to vomit, wast not easily avoided. She gulped and swallowed its slick sweetness, with trepidation for what shouldst follow it.
He made a low and small bow, as though he understood her hesitation to spake.
She wavered her eyes o'er her mind for the thought. The light from her belly struck her up into her throat; igniting the full breadth of its identity like a torch. Her lips quaked, rumbling like a volcano eager to spew.
Elizabeth scurried forth and up to her fours in bed. “Yeh,” she said. She steadied her shoulders, and blinked. A deep breath followed, as she prepared her bold words. She ignored the appalled glare on his face, though her manner wast undignified, "Hear us, though we not hath a dangerous mind."
He stammered at first, and thence uttered a single word.
"Madam?"
"We wot Steel as a liar."
Giles said, nodding, "Yea, ma’am."
"For the sake of our freedom and this kingdom, we proclaim, that he must goeth down. And we shalt require the services of a very fearless spy. He shalt make his death. For, how else art we to change Steel’s heart, but to stop it completely. Tyranny in nigh inevitable. ‘Tis like the watchman seeing an approaching army. We might be able to stop e'en a terrible reign ere its birth, as well as this disastrous marriage. The end of one life shalt spare many."
Her face widened with excitement at her own suggestion, as she now rode on the cusp of an adventure. The idea wast magnanimous. So great and high above her head that she must...
Giles charged hither to the bed, in a manner most unbecoming of his ordinarily stoic countenance, or that of any sensible servant. He grabbed her biceps, as he sank low into the bed, but he couldst not bring himself to look upon her face.
She glared at him wildly, up and down. She dug her nails into the sheets, waiting for him to adjust to the change of moods betwixt them.
He said, with a hoarse voice, "Hush now, lady. What thou spakest ist treason of the highest order. Woe that we e’en hath ears, for with them we hath heard a most dreadful thing this night, and our heart is guilty for it."
Her face froze, and thence she blinked. This wast an oddity to observe from her best servant. He ne’er expressed an open thought, nor wast he less than gentle.
"Sir, we must,” she said, low, “And ‘tis we who must accomplish the demise of our great enemy. For the good of many."
He raised his brows.
He said, keeping his voice lowered as he shook her hands, "How long hath thee such a mind as this? Thou art too certain, our lady. Though we art the least of all persons to wish thee marriage to him…on pain of a certain excruciating death, this course must not come to pass.”
"Giles," she said, as she shook her head, "If thou wouldst doest aught to see us content, thence thou must doest this," She smiled with delight, for the sweet taste of treason wast good in her mouth, "How doest thou spake so? Couldst thou wish us not the most happiness?"
He placed both his hands on the bed and leaned his forehead into hers. No one hadth done this since her father, and for a moment 'twas he that she pictured ere her in the dark, e'en with his terrible cigar and brandy breaths.
He said, "Madam, we beg thee. For, we can suffer not thy fatal fantasies. Consider what ist verily at risk. If e'en the thought were discovered, this shan't ‘only’ spell doom for thee, but for thy entire household! Thy generations and ours wouldst surely bear the shame."
“E'en unto thee, a mere servant?"
He hung his head and he sighed. Thence, he nodded.
He said, bemoaning with a low tone, "Madam, to be a traitor and of low birth, themost demeaning consequences await us. Because we canst deny not thy intent, we shalt be thought consorting and condoning the heinous treason."
Elizabeth leaned in closer, whispering, "But what if we secured thy protection?"
He turned his head away and his face twisted, as though one were wringing his insides like a wet rag.
She ignored his strong emotions, for surely with a little more convincing, they couldst transform to a more pleasant state.
"Madam...spake not."
"Nay. ‘Tis thee who shalt spake not."
The thought nigh reached her that she might exalt her high status o'er him; remind him of his place, as her mother wouldst. She dared not let it. She hadth yet greater the mind of a friend, e'en one in desperate need. She sniffled, and thence gulped, though there wast no true sorrow left in her to hold back.
Elizabeth touched his sunken shoulder, and she looked with pleading eyes.
"Find me silent as a grave man," Giles said, turning back with reluctance.
Elizabeth nodded. Peradventure now he wast ready to hear her.
She said, "Now hearken to our plan. When the deed ist done, thou must live, and be exiled."
He said, shaking his head, "Nay. Nay. We beg thee. Service to this family ist our life. Our-our heritage. O’ Madam! Thou understandest not our plight. If we art reputed to hath been banished..."
"Giles!"
He closed his lips quickly, like a silenced child. He appeared to be more in a sweat from his forehead with e'ery passing second. Though he spake not, the pleading in ist eyes shouted like the pounding of fists at the wall.
Though she spake much of the prince's selfishness, Elizabeth herself wast keen on having her way. She justified herself, e'en with the injustice she didst to those she somewhat loved.
She said, raising her chin, "Thou must understand, for we hath more consideration for thee than thou imagines. Shouldst we exile thee after this intrigue, thou forfeits all blame and punishment. None will look for thy doom, for all eyes and mouths shalt be rejoicing."
She steadied her breathing, as acid from her stiffened belly rose to her throat.
Giles responded, in a ragged shaken voice, "Madam, thou knowest naught of true consequences. This ist the most unhappy. That thou wouldst so readily endanger thy life, mine, and the reputation of thy innocent household to commit such treason. And wherefore? Only so thou shalt fail to live, because thou shan’t succeed to see him dead. See this not? That thou art nothing compared to his standing, art only a lone woman. Thou shalt surely die."
She cupped his face in her hands and leaned into him. His familiar smell filled her senses.
"We wilt doest whatsoe'er it takes to break myself, and this country, free. If thou fears that they wilt take our life, consider that this world hast done so. ‘What hath we to lose?’ ist what thou shouldst ask. Wouldst we be aught but a Sheeks woman, if we didst not give up all for our own ambitions?"
Giles glided her hands down and folded them into her lap. He shook his head, as he wetly stared into her dry and unblinking eyes.
"Shalt thee risk even thy soul? Or ist it too, of no value to thee? We art not promised safety, when thou embarketh unrepentant upon a scaffold; her entryway to Hell. We beg pardon for our forward words, but we ne'er offended so, that thou shouldst require this sin of us," he said, breaking his voice. Tears streamed down his face in long pitiful streaks, “Hear the pleas of thy faithful servant and friend. Hath reason and desist in thy wretched cause, ere it becometh known to those who shalt do thee a great harm. We ask thee twice. Shalt thou fear naught? Will nothing, ev’en plain truth, deter thy wretched course?”
"May thou be as much blameless, as we art for blame," Elizabeth tilted her head, thence she curled her lips and brows. She night hath heard his words, but her pride drowned him out, "O' Giles, prithee. Weep not. Thou shalt live."
He sniffled as he wiped the sweat from his brows with his bare hands. His shaking fingers dragged o’er his eyes, and he rubbed them with great harshness. All a’ red. Here wast a man pushed, by nature of his station, into a fate which he wast given no reprie'e or leave to resist.
"Madam, we distress not for ourself," Giles said, ragged. He cupped her hands with his slick wet ones. "But for thee. Thou behaveth not as the lady I’ve known and admired, but as a misguided stranger."
Misguided. This servant wast far too bold. Howe’er, she thought it better to placate her intended accomplice, than to give him a rebuke. Elizabeth cupped his heated face again, and without any apparent disgust for its drench.
"E’en for all thy thoughts against the plot and our person, wilt thou not still help us? Thou wouldst do anything for our happiness. We know it well."
He opened his trembling mouth.
Her mother's footsteps came at a great speed thither the door, interrupting their queer interlude. The unmistakable drag of another rich taffeta skirt, usually the double the cost of her servants’ wages, marked her well.
“Make haste Giles, and give us our favorable answer,” she said, looking back to him with alarm, “Prithee, tell us quickly. Wilt thou help?”
The Lady Sheeks said, to the guards, "Ist she yet a’ bed?"
Giles backed away thither the vanity in the corner, near Melanie’s place. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. The low lighting veiled their bloodied color from the woman who detested all weakness. He wast quite audible though, as he choked on saliva, which may hath been an effort to resist sobbing.
The double doors burst open and started Elizabeth, as though she hadth no expectation of her dreadful entrance. She wast still upon her hands and knees; a shocking disposition for a lady, but her mother seemed blind to her state.
The Lady Sheeks clasped her hands.
She said, "Darling, today we art the most proud of women. His Royal Highness ist so enamored. So beside himself that…," Lady Sheeks stared back at Giles, limping her hands, "Giles? Wherefore hast thou come at so late an hour? Go thee thither outside, until we require thee," Lady Sheeks flicked her hand, as though she swatteth a gnat.
Elizabeth grimaced. Giles was only a servant, but he wast the best of servants. He, for a surety, deserved a hair’s breadth more respect.
Giles bowed low, though she already turned from him. He rose and made a single nod as he backed out, clicking the doors shut.
"Mother," Elizabeth said, howe’er vain, "Be kinder to Giles."
Her mother appeared as though she heard an unfamiliar language.
"Wherefore? Ist he not our servant?" she said, furrowing her brows. She shook her head. Thence, she beamed, as she plopped down like a simpering girl, "Thou twain were well-suited, darling. Didst we not tell thee, that if thou behaved proper, that thou wouldst surely come to love him? And now thou art the envy of e'ery lady in the province, both high and low."
Elizabeth smiled, as wide as the spread curtains at dawn. She took delight in plotting treason, right under her insufferable mother's stinking powdered nose. ‘Twas not long indeed ere she and Giles shouldst be free of her greedy hands.
Lady Sheeks leaned her smiling face into hers.
The stench of her goat's milk powder, which she shan’t miss when she ist exiled, still made Elizabeth's face crinkle. Lady Sheeks never complained of her apparent disgust. Peradventure, she took it for a strange smile.
Lady Sheeks placed a cool hand on Elizabeth's cheek, the only gesture of affection Elizabeth wist from her, howe’er empty.
"The future Queen of Callea. Our years of toil rewarded,” her pleased smile dropped into the thinned lip of a schoolmaster, “But, thou ‘must’ maintain this obedience, if we art to succeed."
Elizabeth played the part, if only to further her own ambitions. The mark of a true Sheeks woman.
She said, with a sly glance to the side, "He ist so a well gentleman as reported. We long to hear more of him."
"We shalt write him this, straightaway," Lady Sheeks said, patting her hand.
She clapped as she rose from the bed, more delighted than any time Elizabeth e’er seen. She giggled in a manner befitting a lady in a third of her age.
The pinnacle of her social climbing goals were nigh at hand; O’ for a surety, now her daughter shan’t destroy what she hast most desired, for she ist ‘sincere’ in her affections. Her mother deserved much pity, even if only for this thought. O’ what a vain and useless mind this poor widow possessed.
She bent down and kissed Elizabeth's short and sweating forehead. Her mother's lips were as hot as her selfish thoughts.
Elizabeth cringed under her stench.
She said, ignoring her, "Thou must sleep, for we hath a busy day in the morrow. First, an espousal tea and breakfast. Thence, in the afternoon and at long last, we shalt sign the contract ere our goodly witnesses. Thou shalt finally be made his betrothed in the eyes of God, the law, this all our kingdom, and all rounding societies."
Her mother made a pleased smile, as one makes upon achieving a checkmate. She clicked her tongue.
“I remind thee again, as thou needeth to be told things twice, or more often. Good fortunes await us,” she said, firming her expression, “So dare not to turn from this favorable manner. Lest, we art better suited as grave women.”
She whipped her glance away and swung open the double doors; putting herself on a wide and ostentatious display to all who couldst notice. She hadst little other than meager servants to impress, who remained unimpressed as they were under waged. Those higher whom she wouldst rather impress, wouldst also be unimpressed the same, but this wast no deterrent. Her vanity and boasting couldst not be withheld, as like a mustang loosened free from his wrangler.
Elizabeth glanced at Giles' profile waiting in the gallery hall. She saw in him as her mother saw in her: the pawn she wouldst use to move from ambirion to success.
Her gut twisted, like a sailor's knot.
A piece of her mother brewed inside of her, like boiling water.
Giles must hadth recognized his pawnship, for he averted his eyes for shame. He closed the double doors behind Lady Sheeks. What followed was the unmistakable patter of his leather boots, as they coasted away.
Elizabeth’s smile weakened, as she curled into her four-poster bed. O’ that she might forget her sorrow, and think naught for the e’en’s events.
She curled the feather-light blankets up to her chin. It still smelled of that morning’s short-lived sunlight, a remnant of the day that marked a move from one doom to a greater one.
It pleased her to continue thinking upon means to ensnare the insufferable prince, and thus bring bring about a golden age.
Tossing and turning carried on into the darkest hours of the night. Naught of the inordinary. This night, howe'er, wast more restless than ones ere.
She huffed and looked up at the ceiling of her thick and sheer ivory canopy. They were no help for her woes, being like the veil a woman handed to her servant before she faced execution.
She imagined herself upon the little scaffold, like an actress upon the stage. Glancing up at her last sun rising above the clouds.
Doth she face the noose, now? The axe? Perchance, e'en the flame…awaited. Empty goodbyes, for no person in particular. A long and carefully rehearsed prayer, whence she wherefore blessed not the king, and defied ceremonial customs.
Roaring crowds are made of strangers’ faces. They cry for vengeance with raised fists, as though she made a personal offense to each one. The deed being done, they shalt forget her at once, and seek out another cure for their doldrums.
Ah, the brave face she wouldst shew; masking the despair of her heart.
She stopped her fantasy short of imagining the departure of her soul, for she lacked confidence in finding comfort in its destination.
The image wast so vivid. she couldst nigh smell the bloody straw surrounding the block.
Her once-excited thoughts now malformed into impending dread. Murder was a very real and greivous sin. She couldst not hold back not the fear for her consequences, set into her bosom by the boldness of Giles’ unrestrained lips.
She shriveled into herself, and thence shut her eyes and bit her dried peach-hued lips. Bitter. These ideas were the most unpleasant.
Surely this. Peradventure that. Oh, piffle.
Wast her life worth aught? They took her father, and so her earthly joy. She hast no hope for freedom, or any real love. What more couldst they rob of her, but her own breath?
Again, she resisted pondering the value on her soul, for the contemplation a’feared her too much.
To risk bringing anent her swift end wast better than dragging out the moil of her days in Steel’s arms, which made one wish for death.
A plump and salty tear streamed down her forlorn face, as she shook away the awful thoughts of punishment.
Nay! Weep not. Recall the plan's fanciful rewards. There wast yet the prospect of success. Failure wast not inevitable. The encouragement wast good to cling upon, not unlike the comfort of her fathers arms. Her heart lit up once more.
‘Twas indeed necessary that he shouldst die, and its urgency couldst be not more questioned than in these uneasy times. Securing his end wast her only remaining chance to escape from him, and her upstart mother. Further, wouldst not the kingdom also be spared the detriment of an inexperienced and tyrannical rule?
To flee this place wast not enough. While they yet otherwise lived, they shalt reclaim her. Whether it be for the unsatiated hunger of her upstart mother, or for Steel’s desperation for ‘the best woman in the province,’ there was no security from being dragged back to her doom.
Her mother hadth enough years that she might die before finding her, but Steel Mercutio was not so easily prevented.
Elizabeth must do this, and also put away the fear of punishment that hindereth her pride. All success laid a’fore her, and all that was worth living and dying for; exile with Giles and an undisturbed freedom from the confines of their gilded cage. She smiled with deep pleasure, and thence sniffled.
The thick oak wood floors creaked, like the cutting stroke of a violin.
She snapped up, and her eyes widened with alarm. She whipped her head and raised an ear. Naught. Silence, save for the whistle of the wind at the little side window. Goose pimples consumed her arms and legs. Quaking ensued at her stiffened torso. Elizabeth wast no longer alone.
The floor cracked again. Louder.
She scrambled upward into her blankets, and she softly whimpered. She whipped her head again, and thrice, but saw no sign of the terrible source. Her heart quickened and her breaths heaved.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, “Do spaketh, we pray thee. For thou makest us afraid.”
O’ how she wouldst love naught better than for him to relie'e her growing terror. She couldst give him a rebuke with a good laugh, for the needless disturbances he caused her.
The long seconds passed. She reeked of her sweats, for she hadth naught to soothe her soul. No answer. No Giles. Her fists tightened in her cotton sheets.
Her eyes hadth by this time, adjusted to the darkness. Still, she saw no one standing thither. Peradventure, ‘twas naught, but rats? Yeh. A surety, ‘tis so. Rats and nerves. Nerves…and rats.
She rolled over with trepidation, and rustled against the plush white pillow. She wast unable to shake her fear. Peradventure, if ‘twas an intruder, she prayed he wouldst do his will, and disappear into the night. Only leave her be.
She quivered 'neath the thick and safe blankets, secured her like a swaddled babe, as she tightened them in her grip.
Ridiculous, this fear. Rats. Only rats. Naught by rats. Quiet thyself, girl.
A broad rawhide glove scooped o’er her trembling mouth. ‘Twas cold as the grips of death that wouldst surely follow this moment. How the fingers smelled of whiskey, olive oils, and bog water. All the marks of the outcast she longed to be.
She muffled and whimpered into his palm, and thence widened her eyes with an awesome fright.
"Prithee, woman. Spake not," a dry male voice whispered, "and doest not scream. We cometh to make a proposition."
Elizabeth nodded. She awaited the burning sting of a blade to dive into her curled shivering spine. O’ that she might die, and needest not for her wretched plans to come to pass and endanger her soul.
For wherefore shouldst she care also about the fate of the kingdom in Steel’s reign, if she might die before suffering it?
She dies tonight. A surety. No man bound a woman’s mouth with the intent to merely talk, for what couldst the dead remember?
He whispered, with a sharpened hot breath that stank of his drunkenness, "Steel called our hire as a spy, that we might watch thee. But here! Thou conspireth to find one, also? Mark me intrigued, and thence prithee, mark me as your man."
His words were drowned out by her own stifled cries.
She nodded again, that she might placate him, as she soaked his glove with a floodgate of tears. The salty water was thick like cream, and she drank so much that she struggled to breath.
He pressed harder against her quivering face.
Her heartbeat thumped in her ear as she sobbed, awaiting swift death. She clamored o'er the prayers in her head, and they spilled out into indistinct whispers.
"Wilt thou not nod again, and shew us agreement?"
Elizabeth nodded, like a teapot rattling on an unsteady tray.
He said, "Good. Now. The hour is late and the servants watch. Meet us in the courtyard tomorrow, ere the espousal tea. We shalt make our intentions plain there. Our lady..."
She gulped, as she looked halfway back at him.
He relaxed his grip so she couldst better breathe, though shaken ere him.
"Keep us not waiting?"
She nodded, still wide-eyed.
She said, though surprised for the courage to spake, “Wouldst thou not rather kill us this night, than wait for the morrow? And if it be the latter, and not the former, prithee tell us why.”
“O’ such cold eyes pierce this darkness, our lady. Doest not fear death at ‘our’ hands, Lady Elizabeth," he said, spraying saliva in her ear as he hissed his hot breath, "but fear the dreadful justice that awaitest inexperienced traitors."
He lifted his hand, and thence swung his cloak o'er her bed like a black ghost. The fabric quaked like a sheet in the wind, and blended into the blackness of the darkened apartment.
She wast paralyzed for fear, and she waited a full minute ere she dared to look up.
Hurried footsteps approached her room, pounding the padding of the carpet. A single pair. Dread consumed her heart and her body rumbled, for surely he hast not gone. Didst he not mean to spare her life this night? Didst he mean to dangle her salvation ere her?
The doors busted open, and re'ealed a stalking black silhouette in the doorway.
Elizabeth clamored upward, and thence she curled her hands at her mouth. She couldst withhold naught. She screamed, the shrillest as she hadth done at any time in her life. Her tonsils quaked like the rumbles of the earth. Her saliva sprayed forth. The snot and tears ran. This roar wast unforgettable, like the final cry of wounded bird in the clutches of its prey’s teeth.
"Madam!" Giles called out, “Our lady! Art thou well?!”
He rushed forth and leapt upon the bed, with his face struck frozen by her wild and sudden shrieks.
He blinked, as he remembered himself.
He said, gripping her shoulders, "What, or who, hast so vexed thy fair countenance?"
He cared naught for protocol, as he cupped her wet face. He soaked his fingers in her slipping tears and her stickiness, and buried their tips into the heat of her reddened skin.
She gasped for air in his grip. Dryness consumed her panting tongue, like water that dried up at once in the desert sun.
‘Twas Giles. O’ the sweetest Giles. Why couldst he not hath burst in a moment agone? For thence she might be yet fearless of no man, as ere.
She stammered, unable to spaketh through her flooding sobs. Her face whitened and tingled as she clawed at her gut, longing to recover from her terrors.
"O' Giles," she said, “Thou art a goodly friend. Pray, hold me, sir. We art too a'feared.”
She wrapped her trembling arms around him in a slow motion, howe’er unapproved. She curled her fingers into his shoulders. She pulled herself into him.
She sank her face into their warmth. She pictured them as her father’s own. They hadth just enough girth and strength in them to comfort her sucking cheeks.
Giles welcomed her into his embrace, like a mother bringing a babe to her breast.
For three seconds didst silence, and an unfitting bliss, live betwixt them. For these three seconds, hope seemed to live again. Love and joy were natural things in this cruel world, which so oft withheld both from her.
"What ist this?! Unhand her, you devil," her mother said, charging hither.
She ripped Giles away from Elizabeth and shoved him, "Devil! Who ist it that thou thinkest thou art? Doth thou think to lay thy disgusting hands on our daughter, and thy future queen? Shalt thou live to defile her?"
"Mother," Elizabeth sobbed, as she dug her fingers into the mattress. Tears drizzled upon her knuckles, “Cease thy foul scorn.”
She screeched, raising a finger to his shaken face, "We shalt take this matter to the prince himself!"
Elizabeth said, "Mother, we beg thee to desist and contain thyself. For he didst naught of what thou chargest him. He didst naught."
She whipped ‘round to her. She wast wide-eyed with shock.
Elizabeth couldst not belie'e the sight. Perhaps ‘twas for the tears that blinded her, but for the first time in her life, there wast some concern in her mother’s expression. Its amount wast likened to a grain of rice, but enough to wit.
She said, quieting her voice, "Naught? Darling, doth thou defend this common rabble?"
Rabble. Ist this how one shalt describe one who devoted scores of their life in loyal service to her?
"He didst naught. We-we hadth a dream of a fearful sort. We shook, and he offered consolation," she said, gulping as she caught her breath.
There wast no reason she might be disturbed by mere nightmares, but she feared for Giles. Unlike herself, and e'en Melanie, he couldst live not to suffer her mother's wrath.
Leaking mucus and tears soaked her distraught face. Howe’er a disgusting sight, protocol forbade wiping. Her mother lived for such vain rules, and many times greater than for her own child.
Giles kept his eyes low.
"Return to thy post," her mother said to him, curt.
She wouldst be good to admit fault for her false accusation, but their positions forbade her. He wast the help. She wast a mother to the woman destined to be queen. Apologies towards him were a ridiculous notion.
Giles, who kept his dignity in the worst of times, didst as required.
"O' our poor dear," she said, turning back to her with a softened face.
Elizabeth kept her eye on Giles as he stood in profile outside the door, awaiting orders.
She took a seat 'aside her on the bed, and thence stroked her cheek. Her hand wast cold, and as wast the sincerity.
Her hand snapped back at once, as though burned, being immediately soaked in both tears and snot. She curled her bony hands thither her chest. She pursed her lips, as though Elizabeth stained her by intent.
Elizabeth hid her emotion, but she took delight in the plaster of regret on her mother’s face.
She said, with closed eyes, "Such nightmares shew that thou must be more nervous a bride than we imagined.”
She turned away and tightened her mouth. ‘Twas hard to wot whether she didst this for the pain of her empty words or the disgusting matter still in her clenched hand.
“We were in thy position, once. Set to marry thy father, while yet younger than thee. We wist him not, but later didst. And so loved. By this, we wot thou shalt feel better in the morrow. Thou shalt surely love his Highness the same,” she gave her a wavering gaze, “ So, sleep with this new peace. And let us forget this horrid ordeal, for we shalt soon fulfill our greatest happiness."
Elizabeth nodded. She wouldst pretend what feelings she must, if it placated her mother enough to leave the room.
"Giles," her mother called, with the same gentle tone.
He appeared from the hallway with humbled eyes, being visibly shaken all o’er.
In all the years Elizabeth observed his service, he wast ne'er treated so wrong by his mistress, let alone for an innocent cause.
Her voice wast so soft. Her demeanor most gentle, and seemingly forgetful of previous transgressions. Here, Elizabeth stood certain her mother might now apologize for the first time in her long and entitled life.
Thence, her face turned to him and hardened like a mortar.
"Wipe our hand," she commanded, extending the elongated blue-veined hand of withered skin and bones. Her stained palms turned downward, awaiting his servitude. Her fingers oozed and glistened ere the moonlit window.
Ne'er shalt she apologize, the least of all to a servant. Elizabeth released a silent sigh, and let her shoulders loosen. That wast that.
Giles made a single dutiful nod. He pulled a white cotton handkerchief from his right pocket, and gave it a pleasing whip. ‘Twas the custom among servants to do so, though only to those of Sheeks House.
He, thence, cleaned her cool clammy hand, starting with the knuckles.
How she downturned her eyes and raised a proud chin! She twitched her thin lumpy nose and sniffed, like a hound picking up a scent. The stink of his lowly shame wast apparent.
Elizabeth wot that he pretended his sincerity, as he softly dabbed her and streaked her palms. Next, the same to her outstretched fingers. No joy wast found, though ‘twas once his model for other servants.
When she wast satisfied, though scowled, she snapped her hand back. She rubbed her fingers together, as smooth as if ash were betwixt them.
Elizabeth wast thankful to God her wrath hadth passed ere she couldst exact her true rage; a kind if for naught else, meant to shew exactly what regard she hadth for low-borns.
She said, gruff as she gestured to Elizabeth with a snap of her head, "Wipe her face, and with a new cloth. Queens clean not their person."
"Yea, madam," he said, keeping his voice low, and nigh trembling.
Lady Sheeks rose from the bed. She gave him a final stone glare, as though there were some need to remind him of her power.
Nay, this old dog shan't bite back. Not any more than others.
She bumped his shoulder in passing. ‘Twas a lighter punishment than those given to lesser servants, e'en innocent ones.
Giles averted his face, as though she couldst still burn him with her stare.
He closed both doors behind her.
Her clicking heels fading away brought great sighs of relief.
He leaned his head against the wood panels, hiding his expression. ‘Twas a cruel forbearance. How she longed for his words, so that he might deliver her from terror. Both hands flattened against the doors. His head shook, slowly. Both shoulders sank and rolled.
She gulped. Nay, woe that he shouldst speak, for a stranger stood in his place; a form being as malediction, itself. Elizabeth's lips trembled.
O’ that she shouldst cause him to suffer. Woe to her who dragged a good soul so low! Wast her mother not enough for his misery, that she must trouble him to help her kill Steel?
She wouldst do better to proclaim a new mind, thereby and ease his soul; abandon her plans, and bring him back into their familiar fold. Woe if she shouldst forsake bringing Steel to ruin, but the worst if she must also trouble her ally.
She said, "Giles...might thou hearken? For we must comfort thee."
He scoffed. He forced a smile, and thence turned away from the door.
Any word Elizabeth meant to speak evaporated like the mist, and the hollow air escaped her open mouth.
He glided forth like an apparition, pale and cloaked by the darkness that burst inward and outward of his soul. His e'ery step wast softer than his previous one, as though he strode on a lightning cloud. Yea, her man, different than ere as she wist him, hadth truly become the face of death itself.
He said, "No need,” He pulled a new clean silk handkerchief from his left pocket. He gave it a goodly whip, "For by being in thy presence, we shalt be well."
He knelt at her bedside, like a gentleman ready to be knighted.
Elizabeth wist not this person. He ministered charm and vain comfort beneath his tortured exterior. She wist him not, and liked him less. She shifted backward an inch, and pressed herself against the oaken carved headboard of cherubs and trees. Her face winced.
Thence, he reached forth slow.
She flinched.
He paused.
A moment of painful silence lingered betwixt them. They both hadth time to consider their next action. Shouldst she resist him? Shalt he depart?
She pressed her lips, which hadth been salted by her tears, and she downcast her eyes. Howe'er unfamiliar, this wast the Giles of her youth, who couldst be himself again in only another hour.
Thus, with this little faith and hope, she leaned her head thither his outstretched hand.
He prodded the corner of her eyes with the lace-edged cloth, thence dragged it down her cheeks and unto the corner of her lips. ‘Twas of a fine white silk and tenderly washed often, that it may ne'er lose its softness. It smelled of the sunshine and the delights of the garden, for it hung oft’ to dry there. ‘Twas as much like him as his own soul.
This was not an unfamiliar devotion. Such wast ne’er found in another servant; not in all the servants in all the land of all her days.
He said, managing a blink and a cunning smile, "Be of cheer, madam. We gaveth thy words some thought. We shalt bring thee thy spy," he said, "and shouldst we succeed, thou shalt take us away with thee. Make us far from thy wicked mother. We desire to follow thee anywhere, e’en unto death."
All colors drained from Elizabeth's thin and translucent face. Her breath shortened and thence, held to the full.
She wondered whence her mysterious cloaked man hid in the room. He, with no doubt, hearkened to e'ery forbidden word, that he might use his witness to destroy her.
"Miss," Giles said, for heread her alarm like a worn book, "Wherefore art thou vexed by this?"
He couldst wot not her true concern. She quivered as the confession beat behind her lips, like a prisoner against a brick wall.
"Let us spake naught of it," she said, gulping as she forced her words, "For the night hast been too hard."
Giles nodded and managed a smile, obedient to a fault.
He said, "Whate'er thou desireth, our lady. For verily, 'tis thee, above all others, who deserves e'erything thou hast wished."
He withdrew to his chest. Whether ‘twas for the shame that he couldst be not freely tender, or his pity at her fate, she wist not. He wast her greatest of friends and as much treasured like a grandfather, but he wast also only her servant. There were limits to the comforts he couldst offer her.
"We art not well," she said, turning away from him.
She lowered her eyes, with all their woeful discontentment, and thence she crossed her arms. She sighed. The cogs stirred behind her eyes, but for naught in particular; only clumps of thoughts so interwoven that they were an indiscernable ball of vexation.
Deep down in the pit that hadth swelled in her belly, an answer tucked away in its abyss. Faint. Nigh unreachable. The sign offered hope that there wast yet a good thing that couldst be made from Steel’s folly.
"Sleep well, miss," Giles said, patting her hands, "and may God bless thee."
He arose from the bed.
No sooner wast his back turned to her didst she spake her heart.
"We like this matter not. Who art we, that he shouldst target us like sport? When he couldst hath the choice of thousands of other fain and unmarried ladies in the province," Elizabeth said, breaking her voice, "Wherefore couldst he not be likened to thee? Thou art a worthy gentleman who wouldst certainly leave what must not be his, unowned."
She despised the whiff of sweet and thick mucus building up, there in the tops of her throat. The itch whence she swallowed. The burning floodgates of tears which threatened to burst forth from her shaking eyes. O’ speak! Relie'e our burdens. Tell her that she must suffer not this fate, and there wast yet a way out.
Giles paused for a moment, and thence he walked slowly to the door. Now, causing much more grief to her than previous times, he hadth left her answerless again. This strangely visible and yet troubled spirit fell o'er him, but she wast too reluctant to inquire of its origin.
Despite this, she cared only for her care. Her eyes widened and dried up in an instant. She exhaled a relie'ed sigh, for the answer in her belly wast nigh, at last. Like a candle light coming thither one from the dark, it seemed to grow stronger. It hadth the smallest sense of understanding.
It whispered, and she answered back. Yea, yea. Come, and stronger! Tell us what we must do.
He opened her doors, slow enough to avoid a shrill creak.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, blinking.
"Yea, madam," he said, turning ‘round.
Darkness cloaked him well. His face lacked its usual glow. Nay, naught existed any hint of delight’s previous evidence. He seemed rather marred and close to disfigurement; plagued by a sudden and unspoken regret.
She sniffled hard, recalling the mucus back to her throat. Its scent, which oft made her likely to vomit, wast not easily avoided. She gulped and swallowed its slick sweetness, with trepidation for what shouldst follow it.
He made a low and small bow, as though he understood her hesitation to spake.
She wavered her eyes o'er her mind for the thought. The light from her belly struck her up into her throat; igniting the full breadth of its identity like a torch. Her lips quaked, rumbling like a volcano eager to spew.
Elizabeth scurried forth and up to her fours in bed. “Yeh,” she said. She steadied her shoulders, and blinked. A deep breath followed, as she prepared her bold words. She ignored the appalled glare on his face, though her manner wast undignified, "Hear us, though we not hath a dangerous mind."
He stammered at first, and thence uttered a single word.
"Madam?"
"We wot Steel as a liar."
Giles said, nodding, "Yea, ma’am."
"For the sake of our freedom and this kingdom, we proclaim, that he must goeth down. And we shalt require the services of a very fearless spy. He shalt make his death. For, how else art we to change Steel’s heart, but to stop it completely. Tyranny in nigh inevitable. ‘Tis like the watchman seeing an approaching army. We might be able to stop e'en a terrible reign ere its birth, as well as this disastrous marriage. The end of one life shalt spare many."
Her face widened with excitement at her own suggestion, as she now rode on the cusp of an adventure. The idea wast magnanimous. So great and high above her head that she must...
Giles charged hither to the bed, in a manner most unbecoming of his ordinarily stoic countenance, or that of any sensible servant. He grabbed her biceps, as he sank low into the bed, but he couldst not bring himself to look upon her face.
She glared at him wildly, up and down. She dug her nails into the sheets, waiting for him to adjust to the change of moods betwixt them.
He said, with a hoarse voice, "Hush now, lady. What thou spakest ist treason of the highest order. Woe that we e’en hath ears, for with them we hath heard a most dreadful thing this night, and our heart is guilty for it."
Her face froze, and thence she blinked. This wast an oddity to observe from her best servant. He ne’er expressed an open thought, nor wast he less than gentle.
"Sir, we must,” she said, low, “And ‘tis we who must accomplish the demise of our great enemy. For the good of many."
He raised his brows.
He said, keeping his voice lowered as he shook her hands, "How long hath thee such a mind as this? Thou art too certain, our lady. Though we art the least of all persons to wish thee marriage to him…on pain of a certain excruciating death, this course must not come to pass.”
"Giles," she said, as she shook her head, "If thou wouldst doest aught to see us content, thence thou must doest this," She smiled with delight, for the sweet taste of treason wast good in her mouth, "How doest thou spake so? Couldst thou wish us not the most happiness?"
He placed both his hands on the bed and leaned his forehead into hers. No one hadth done this since her father, and for a moment 'twas he that she pictured ere her in the dark, e'en with his terrible cigar and brandy breaths.
He said, "Madam, we beg thee. For, we can suffer not thy fatal fantasies. Consider what ist verily at risk. If e'en the thought were discovered, this shan't ‘only’ spell doom for thee, but for thy entire household! Thy generations and ours wouldst surely bear the shame."
“E'en unto thee, a mere servant?"
He hung his head and he sighed. Thence, he nodded.
He said, bemoaning with a low tone, "Madam, to be a traitor and of low birth, themost demeaning consequences await us. Because we canst deny not thy intent, we shalt be thought consorting and condoning the heinous treason."
Elizabeth leaned in closer, whispering, "But what if we secured thy protection?"
He turned his head away and his face twisted, as though one were wringing his insides like a wet rag.
She ignored his strong emotions, for surely with a little more convincing, they couldst transform to a more pleasant state.
"Madam...spake not."
"Nay. ‘Tis thee who shalt spake not."
The thought nigh reached her that she might exalt her high status o'er him; remind him of his place, as her mother wouldst. She dared not let it. She hadth yet greater the mind of a friend, e'en one in desperate need. She sniffled, and thence gulped, though there wast no true sorrow left in her to hold back.
Elizabeth touched his sunken shoulder, and she looked with pleading eyes.
"Find me silent as a grave man," Giles said, turning back with reluctance.
Elizabeth nodded. Peradventure now he wast ready to hear her.
She said, "Now hearken to our plan. When the deed ist done, thou must live, and be exiled."
He said, shaking his head, "Nay. Nay. We beg thee. Service to this family ist our life. Our-our heritage. O’ Madam! Thou understandest not our plight. If we art reputed to hath been banished..."
"Giles!"
He closed his lips quickly, like a silenced child. He appeared to be more in a sweat from his forehead with e'ery passing second. Though he spake not, the pleading in ist eyes shouted like the pounding of fists at the wall.
Though she spake much of the prince's selfishness, Elizabeth herself wast keen on having her way. She justified herself, e'en with the injustice she didst to those she somewhat loved.
She said, raising her chin, "Thou must understand, for we hath more consideration for thee than thou imagines. Shouldst we exile thee after this intrigue, thou forfeits all blame and punishment. None will look for thy doom, for all eyes and mouths shalt be rejoicing."
She steadied her breathing, as acid from her stiffened belly rose to her throat.
Giles responded, in a ragged shaken voice, "Madam, thou knowest naught of true consequences. This ist the most unhappy. That thou wouldst so readily endanger thy life, mine, and the reputation of thy innocent household to commit such treason. And wherefore? Only so thou shalt fail to live, because thou shan’t succeed to see him dead. See this not? That thou art nothing compared to his standing, art only a lone woman. Thou shalt surely die."
She cupped his face in her hands and leaned into him. His familiar smell filled her senses.
"We wilt doest whatsoe'er it takes to break myself, and this country, free. If thou fears that they wilt take our life, consider that this world hast done so. ‘What hath we to lose?’ ist what thou shouldst ask. Wouldst we be aught but a Sheeks woman, if we didst not give up all for our own ambitions?"
Giles glided her hands down and folded them into her lap. He shook his head, as he wetly stared into her dry and unblinking eyes.
"Shalt thee risk even thy soul? Or ist it too, of no value to thee? We art not promised safety, when thou embarketh unrepentant upon a scaffold; her entryway to Hell. We beg pardon for our forward words, but we ne'er offended so, that thou shouldst require this sin of us," he said, breaking his voice. Tears streamed down his face in long pitiful streaks, “Hear the pleas of thy faithful servant and friend. Hath reason and desist in thy wretched cause, ere it becometh known to those who shalt do thee a great harm. We ask thee twice. Shalt thou fear naught? Will nothing, ev’en plain truth, deter thy wretched course?”
"May thou be as much blameless, as we art for blame," Elizabeth tilted her head, thence she curled her lips and brows. She night hath heard his words, but her pride drowned him out, "O' Giles, prithee. Weep not. Thou shalt live."
He sniffled as he wiped the sweat from his brows with his bare hands. His shaking fingers dragged o’er his eyes, and he rubbed them with great harshness. All a’ red. Here wast a man pushed, by nature of his station, into a fate which he wast given no reprie'e or leave to resist.
"Madam, we distress not for ourself," Giles said, ragged. He cupped her hands with his slick wet ones. "But for thee. Thou behaveth not as the lady I’ve known and admired, but as a misguided stranger."
Misguided. This servant wast far too bold. Howe’er, she thought it better to placate her intended accomplice, than to give him a rebuke. Elizabeth cupped his heated face again, and without any apparent disgust for its drench.
"E’en for all thy thoughts against the plot and our person, wilt thou not still help us? Thou wouldst do anything for our happiness. We know it well."
He opened his trembling mouth.
Her mother's footsteps came at a great speed thither the door, interrupting their queer interlude. The unmistakable drag of another rich taffeta skirt, usually the double the cost of her servants’ wages, marked her well.
“Make haste Giles, and give us our favorable answer,” she said, looking back to him with alarm, “Prithee, tell us quickly. Wilt thou help?”
The Lady Sheeks said, to the guards, "Ist she yet a’ bed?"
Giles backed away thither the vanity in the corner, near Melanie’s place. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. The low lighting veiled their bloodied color from the woman who detested all weakness. He wast quite audible though, as he choked on saliva, which may hath been an effort to resist sobbing.
The double doors burst open and started Elizabeth, as though she hadth no expectation of her dreadful entrance. She wast still upon her hands and knees; a shocking disposition for a lady, but her mother seemed blind to her state.
The Lady Sheeks clasped her hands.
She said, "Darling, today we art the most proud of women. His Royal Highness ist so enamored. So beside himself that…," Lady Sheeks stared back at Giles, limping her hands, "Giles? Wherefore hast thou come at so late an hour? Go thee thither outside, until we require thee," Lady Sheeks flicked her hand, as though she swatteth a gnat.
Elizabeth grimaced. Giles was only a servant, but he wast the best of servants. He, for a surety, deserved a hair’s breadth more respect.
Giles bowed low, though she already turned from him. He rose and made a single nod as he backed out, clicking the doors shut.
"Mother," Elizabeth said, howe’er vain, "Be kinder to Giles."
Her mother appeared as though she heard an unfamiliar language.
"Wherefore? Ist he not our servant?" she said, furrowing her brows. She shook her head. Thence, she beamed, as she plopped down like a simpering girl, "Thou twain were well-suited, darling. Didst we not tell thee, that if thou behaved proper, that thou wouldst surely come to love him? And now thou art the envy of e'ery lady in the province, both high and low."
Elizabeth smiled, as wide as the spread curtains at dawn. She took delight in plotting treason, right under her insufferable mother's stinking powdered nose. ‘Twas not long indeed ere she and Giles shouldst be free of her greedy hands.
Lady Sheeks leaned her smiling face into hers.
The stench of her goat's milk powder, which she shan’t miss when she ist exiled, still made Elizabeth's face crinkle. Lady Sheeks never complained of her apparent disgust. Peradventure, she took it for a strange smile.
Lady Sheeks placed a cool hand on Elizabeth's cheek, the only gesture of affection Elizabeth wist from her, howe’er empty.
"The future Queen of Callea. Our years of toil rewarded,” her pleased smile dropped into the thinned lip of a schoolmaster, “But, thou ‘must’ maintain this obedience, if we art to succeed."
Elizabeth played the part, if only to further her own ambitions. The mark of a true Sheeks woman.
She said, with a sly glance to the side, "He ist so a well gentleman as reported. We long to hear more of him."
"We shalt write him this, straightaway," Lady Sheeks said, patting her hand.
She clapped as she rose from the bed, more delighted than any time Elizabeth e’er seen. She giggled in a manner befitting a lady in a third of her age.
The pinnacle of her social climbing goals were nigh at hand; O’ for a surety, now her daughter shan’t destroy what she hast most desired, for she ist ‘sincere’ in her affections. Her mother deserved much pity, even if only for this thought. O’ what a vain and useless mind this poor widow possessed.
She bent down and kissed Elizabeth's short and sweating forehead. Her mother's lips were as hot as her selfish thoughts.
Elizabeth cringed under her stench.
She said, ignoring her, "Thou must sleep, for we hath a busy day in the morrow. First, an espousal tea and breakfast. Thence, in the afternoon and at long last, we shalt sign the contract ere our goodly witnesses. Thou shalt finally be made his betrothed in the eyes of God, the law, this all our kingdom, and all rounding societies."
Her mother made a pleased smile, as one makes upon achieving a checkmate. She clicked her tongue.
“I remind thee again, as thou needeth to be told things twice, or more often. Good fortunes await us,” she said, firming her expression, “So dare not to turn from this favorable manner. Lest, we art better suited as grave women.”
She whipped her glance away and swung open the double doors; putting herself on a wide and ostentatious display to all who couldst notice. She hadst little other than meager servants to impress, who remained unimpressed as they were under waged. Those higher whom she wouldst rather impress, wouldst also be unimpressed the same, but this wast no deterrent. Her vanity and boasting couldst not be withheld, as like a mustang loosened free from his wrangler.
Elizabeth glanced at Giles' profile waiting in the gallery hall. She saw in him as her mother saw in her: the pawn she wouldst use to move from ambirion to success.
Her gut twisted, like a sailor's knot.
A piece of her mother brewed inside of her, like boiling water.
Giles must hadth recognized his pawnship, for he averted his eyes for shame. He closed the double doors behind Lady Sheeks. What followed was the unmistakable patter of his leather boots, as they coasted away.
Elizabeth’s smile weakened, as she curled into her four-poster bed. O’ that she might forget her sorrow, and think naught for the e’en’s events.
She curled the feather-light blankets up to her chin. It still smelled of that morning’s short-lived sunlight, a remnant of the day that marked a move from one doom to a greater one.
It pleased her to continue thinking upon means to ensnare the insufferable prince, and thus bring bring about a golden age.
…...
Tossing and turning carried on into the darkest hours of the night. Naught of the inordinary. This night, howe'er, wast more restless than ones ere.
She huffed and looked up at the ceiling of her thick and sheer ivory canopy. They were no help for her woes, being like the veil a woman handed to her servant before she faced execution.
She imagined herself upon the little scaffold, like an actress upon the stage. Glancing up at her last sun rising above the clouds.
Doth she face the noose, now? The axe? Perchance, e'en the flame…awaited. Empty goodbyes, for no person in particular. A long and carefully rehearsed prayer, whence she wherefore blessed not the king, and defied ceremonial customs.
Roaring crowds are made of strangers’ faces. They cry for vengeance with raised fists, as though she made a personal offense to each one. The deed being done, they shalt forget her at once, and seek out another cure for their doldrums.
Ah, the brave face she wouldst shew; masking the despair of her heart.
She stopped her fantasy short of imagining the departure of her soul, for she lacked confidence in finding comfort in its destination.
The image wast so vivid. she couldst nigh smell the bloody straw surrounding the block.
Her once-excited thoughts now malformed into impending dread. Murder was a very real and greivous sin. She couldst not hold back not the fear for her consequences, set into her bosom by the boldness of Giles’ unrestrained lips.
She shriveled into herself, and thence shut her eyes and bit her dried peach-hued lips. Bitter. These ideas were the most unpleasant.
Surely this. Peradventure that. Oh, piffle.
Wast her life worth aught? They took her father, and so her earthly joy. She hast no hope for freedom, or any real love. What more couldst they rob of her, but her own breath?
Again, she resisted pondering the value on her soul, for the contemplation a’feared her too much.
To risk bringing anent her swift end wast better than dragging out the moil of her days in Steel’s arms, which made one wish for death.
A plump and salty tear streamed down her forlorn face, as she shook away the awful thoughts of punishment.
Nay! Weep not. Recall the plan's fanciful rewards. There wast yet the prospect of success. Failure wast not inevitable. The encouragement wast good to cling upon, not unlike the comfort of her fathers arms. Her heart lit up once more.
‘Twas indeed necessary that he shouldst die, and its urgency couldst be not more questioned than in these uneasy times. Securing his end wast her only remaining chance to escape from him, and her upstart mother. Further, wouldst not the kingdom also be spared the detriment of an inexperienced and tyrannical rule?
To flee this place wast not enough. While they yet otherwise lived, they shalt reclaim her. Whether it be for the unsatiated hunger of her upstart mother, or for Steel’s desperation for ‘the best woman in the province,’ there was no security from being dragged back to her doom.
Her mother hadth enough years that she might die before finding her, but Steel Mercutio was not so easily prevented.
Elizabeth must do this, and also put away the fear of punishment that hindereth her pride. All success laid a’fore her, and all that was worth living and dying for; exile with Giles and an undisturbed freedom from the confines of their gilded cage. She smiled with deep pleasure, and thence sniffled.
The thick oak wood floors creaked, like the cutting stroke of a violin.
She snapped up, and her eyes widened with alarm. She whipped her head and raised an ear. Naught. Silence, save for the whistle of the wind at the little side window. Goose pimples consumed her arms and legs. Quaking ensued at her stiffened torso. Elizabeth wast no longer alone.
The floor cracked again. Louder.
She scrambled upward into her blankets, and she softly whimpered. She whipped her head again, and thrice, but saw no sign of the terrible source. Her heart quickened and her breaths heaved.
"Giles?" Elizabeth said, “Do spaketh, we pray thee. For thou makest us afraid.”
O’ how she wouldst love naught better than for him to relie'e her growing terror. She couldst give him a rebuke with a good laugh, for the needless disturbances he caused her.
The long seconds passed. She reeked of her sweats, for she hadth naught to soothe her soul. No answer. No Giles. Her fists tightened in her cotton sheets.
Her eyes hadth by this time, adjusted to the darkness. Still, she saw no one standing thither. Peradventure, ‘twas naught, but rats? Yeh. A surety, ‘tis so. Rats and nerves. Nerves…and rats.
She rolled over with trepidation, and rustled against the plush white pillow. She wast unable to shake her fear. Peradventure, if ‘twas an intruder, she prayed he wouldst do his will, and disappear into the night. Only leave her be.
She quivered 'neath the thick and safe blankets, secured her like a swaddled babe, as she tightened them in her grip.
Ridiculous, this fear. Rats. Only rats. Naught by rats. Quiet thyself, girl.
A broad rawhide glove scooped o’er her trembling mouth. ‘Twas cold as the grips of death that wouldst surely follow this moment. How the fingers smelled of whiskey, olive oils, and bog water. All the marks of the outcast she longed to be.
She muffled and whimpered into his palm, and thence widened her eyes with an awesome fright.
"Prithee, woman. Spake not," a dry male voice whispered, "and doest not scream. We cometh to make a proposition."
Elizabeth nodded. She awaited the burning sting of a blade to dive into her curled shivering spine. O’ that she might die, and needest not for her wretched plans to come to pass and endanger her soul.
For wherefore shouldst she care also about the fate of the kingdom in Steel’s reign, if she might die before suffering it?
She dies tonight. A surety. No man bound a woman’s mouth with the intent to merely talk, for what couldst the dead remember?
He whispered, with a sharpened hot breath that stank of his drunkenness, "Steel called our hire as a spy, that we might watch thee. But here! Thou conspireth to find one, also? Mark me intrigued, and thence prithee, mark me as your man."
His words were drowned out by her own stifled cries.
She nodded again, that she might placate him, as she soaked his glove with a floodgate of tears. The salty water was thick like cream, and she drank so much that she struggled to breath.
He pressed harder against her quivering face.
Her heartbeat thumped in her ear as she sobbed, awaiting swift death. She clamored o'er the prayers in her head, and they spilled out into indistinct whispers.
"Wilt thou not nod again, and shew us agreement?"
Elizabeth nodded, like a teapot rattling on an unsteady tray.
He said, "Good. Now. The hour is late and the servants watch. Meet us in the courtyard tomorrow, ere the espousal tea. We shalt make our intentions plain there. Our lady..."
She gulped, as she looked halfway back at him.
He relaxed his grip so she couldst better breathe, though shaken ere him.
"Keep us not waiting?"
She nodded, still wide-eyed.
She said, though surprised for the courage to spake, “Wouldst thou not rather kill us this night, than wait for the morrow? And if it be the latter, and not the former, prithee tell us why.”
“O’ such cold eyes pierce this darkness, our lady. Doest not fear death at ‘our’ hands, Lady Elizabeth," he said, spraying saliva in her ear as he hissed his hot breath, "but fear the dreadful justice that awaitest inexperienced traitors."
He lifted his hand, and thence swung his cloak o'er her bed like a black ghost. The fabric quaked like a sheet in the wind, and blended into the blackness of the darkened apartment.
She wast paralyzed for fear, and she waited a full minute ere she dared to look up.
Hurried footsteps approached her room, pounding the padding of the carpet. A single pair. Dread consumed her heart and her body rumbled, for surely he hast not gone. Didst he not mean to spare her life this night? Didst he mean to dangle her salvation ere her?
The doors busted open, and re'ealed a stalking black silhouette in the doorway.
Elizabeth clamored upward, and thence she curled her hands at her mouth. She couldst withhold naught. She screamed, the shrillest as she hadth done at any time in her life. Her tonsils quaked like the rumbles of the earth. Her saliva sprayed forth. The snot and tears ran. This roar wast unforgettable, like the final cry of wounded bird in the clutches of its prey’s teeth.
"Madam!" Giles called out, “Our lady! Art thou well?!”
He rushed forth and leapt upon the bed, with his face struck frozen by her wild and sudden shrieks.
He blinked, as he remembered himself.
He said, gripping her shoulders, "What, or who, hast so vexed thy fair countenance?"
He cared naught for protocol, as he cupped her wet face. He soaked his fingers in her slipping tears and her stickiness, and buried their tips into the heat of her reddened skin.
She gasped for air in his grip. Dryness consumed her panting tongue, like water that dried up at once in the desert sun.
‘Twas Giles. O’ the sweetest Giles. Why couldst he not hath burst in a moment agone? For thence she might be yet fearless of no man, as ere.
She stammered, unable to spaketh through her flooding sobs. Her face whitened and tingled as she clawed at her gut, longing to recover from her terrors.
"O' Giles," she said, “Thou art a goodly friend. Pray, hold me, sir. We art too a'feared.”
She wrapped her trembling arms around him in a slow motion, howe’er unapproved. She curled her fingers into his shoulders. She pulled herself into him.
She sank her face into their warmth. She pictured them as her father’s own. They hadth just enough girth and strength in them to comfort her sucking cheeks.
Giles welcomed her into his embrace, like a mother bringing a babe to her breast.
For three seconds didst silence, and an unfitting bliss, live betwixt them. For these three seconds, hope seemed to live again. Love and joy were natural things in this cruel world, which so oft withheld both from her.
"What ist this?! Unhand her, you devil," her mother said, charging hither.
She ripped Giles away from Elizabeth and shoved him, "Devil! Who ist it that thou thinkest thou art? Doth thou think to lay thy disgusting hands on our daughter, and thy future queen? Shalt thou live to defile her?"
"Mother," Elizabeth sobbed, as she dug her fingers into the mattress. Tears drizzled upon her knuckles, “Cease thy foul scorn.”
She screeched, raising a finger to his shaken face, "We shalt take this matter to the prince himself!"
Elizabeth said, "Mother, we beg thee to desist and contain thyself. For he didst naught of what thou chargest him. He didst naught."
She whipped ‘round to her. She wast wide-eyed with shock.
Elizabeth couldst not belie'e the sight. Perhaps ‘twas for the tears that blinded her, but for the first time in her life, there wast some concern in her mother’s expression. Its amount wast likened to a grain of rice, but enough to wit.
She said, quieting her voice, "Naught? Darling, doth thou defend this common rabble?"
Rabble. Ist this how one shalt describe one who devoted scores of their life in loyal service to her?
"He didst naught. We-we hadth a dream of a fearful sort. We shook, and he offered consolation," she said, gulping as she caught her breath.
There wast no reason she might be disturbed by mere nightmares, but she feared for Giles. Unlike herself, and e'en Melanie, he couldst live not to suffer her mother's wrath.
Leaking mucus and tears soaked her distraught face. Howe’er a disgusting sight, protocol forbade wiping. Her mother lived for such vain rules, and many times greater than for her own child.
Giles kept his eyes low.
"Return to thy post," her mother said to him, curt.
She wouldst be good to admit fault for her false accusation, but their positions forbade her. He wast the help. She wast a mother to the woman destined to be queen. Apologies towards him were a ridiculous notion.
Giles, who kept his dignity in the worst of times, didst as required.
"O' our poor dear," she said, turning back to her with a softened face.
Elizabeth kept her eye on Giles as he stood in profile outside the door, awaiting orders.
She took a seat 'aside her on the bed, and thence stroked her cheek. Her hand wast cold, and as wast the sincerity.
Her hand snapped back at once, as though burned, being immediately soaked in both tears and snot. She curled her bony hands thither her chest. She pursed her lips, as though Elizabeth stained her by intent.
Elizabeth hid her emotion, but she took delight in the plaster of regret on her mother’s face.
She said, with closed eyes, "Such nightmares shew that thou must be more nervous a bride than we imagined.”
She turned away and tightened her mouth. ‘Twas hard to wot whether she didst this for the pain of her empty words or the disgusting matter still in her clenched hand.
“We were in thy position, once. Set to marry thy father, while yet younger than thee. We wist him not, but later didst. And so loved. By this, we wot thou shalt feel better in the morrow. Thou shalt surely love his Highness the same,” she gave her a wavering gaze, “ So, sleep with this new peace. And let us forget this horrid ordeal, for we shalt soon fulfill our greatest happiness."
Elizabeth nodded. She wouldst pretend what feelings she must, if it placated her mother enough to leave the room.
"Giles," her mother called, with the same gentle tone.
He appeared from the hallway with humbled eyes, being visibly shaken all o’er.
In all the years Elizabeth observed his service, he wast ne'er treated so wrong by his mistress, let alone for an innocent cause.
Her voice wast so soft. Her demeanor most gentle, and seemingly forgetful of previous transgressions. Here, Elizabeth stood certain her mother might now apologize for the first time in her long and entitled life.
Thence, her face turned to him and hardened like a mortar.
"Wipe our hand," she commanded, extending the elongated blue-veined hand of withered skin and bones. Her stained palms turned downward, awaiting his servitude. Her fingers oozed and glistened ere the moonlit window.
Ne'er shalt she apologize, the least of all to a servant. Elizabeth released a silent sigh, and let her shoulders loosen. That wast that.
Giles made a single dutiful nod. He pulled a white cotton handkerchief from his right pocket, and gave it a pleasing whip. ‘Twas the custom among servants to do so, though only to those of Sheeks House.
He, thence, cleaned her cool clammy hand, starting with the knuckles.
How she downturned her eyes and raised a proud chin! She twitched her thin lumpy nose and sniffed, like a hound picking up a scent. The stink of his lowly shame wast apparent.
Elizabeth wot that he pretended his sincerity, as he softly dabbed her and streaked her palms. Next, the same to her outstretched fingers. No joy wast found, though ‘twas once his model for other servants.
When she wast satisfied, though scowled, she snapped her hand back. She rubbed her fingers together, as smooth as if ash were betwixt them.
Elizabeth wast thankful to God her wrath hadth passed ere she couldst exact her true rage; a kind if for naught else, meant to shew exactly what regard she hadth for low-borns.
She said, gruff as she gestured to Elizabeth with a snap of her head, "Wipe her face, and with a new cloth. Queens clean not their person."
"Yea, madam," he said, keeping his voice low, and nigh trembling.
Lady Sheeks rose from the bed. She gave him a final stone glare, as though there were some need to remind him of her power.
Nay, this old dog shan't bite back. Not any more than others.
She bumped his shoulder in passing. ‘Twas a lighter punishment than those given to lesser servants, e'en innocent ones.
Giles averted his face, as though she couldst still burn him with her stare.
He closed both doors behind her.
Her clicking heels fading away brought great sighs of relief.
He leaned his head against the wood panels, hiding his expression. ‘Twas a cruel forbearance. How she longed for his words, so that he might deliver her from terror. Both hands flattened against the doors. His head shook, slowly. Both shoulders sank and rolled.
She gulped. Nay, woe that he shouldst speak, for a stranger stood in his place; a form being as malediction, itself. Elizabeth's lips trembled.
O’ that she shouldst cause him to suffer. Woe to her who dragged a good soul so low! Wast her mother not enough for his misery, that she must trouble him to help her kill Steel?
She wouldst do better to proclaim a new mind, thereby and ease his soul; abandon her plans, and bring him back into their familiar fold. Woe if she shouldst forsake bringing Steel to ruin, but the worst if she must also trouble her ally.
She said, "Giles...might thou hearken? For we must comfort thee."
He scoffed. He forced a smile, and thence turned away from the door.
Any word Elizabeth meant to speak evaporated like the mist, and the hollow air escaped her open mouth.
He glided forth like an apparition, pale and cloaked by the darkness that burst inward and outward of his soul. His e'ery step wast softer than his previous one, as though he strode on a lightning cloud. Yea, her man, different than ere as she wist him, hadth truly become the face of death itself.
He said, "No need,” He pulled a new clean silk handkerchief from his left pocket. He gave it a goodly whip, "For by being in thy presence, we shalt be well."
He knelt at her bedside, like a gentleman ready to be knighted.
Elizabeth wist not this person. He ministered charm and vain comfort beneath his tortured exterior. She wist him not, and liked him less. She shifted backward an inch, and pressed herself against the oaken carved headboard of cherubs and trees. Her face winced.
Thence, he reached forth slow.
She flinched.
He paused.
A moment of painful silence lingered betwixt them. They both hadth time to consider their next action. Shouldst she resist him? Shalt he depart?
She pressed her lips, which hadth been salted by her tears, and she downcast her eyes. Howe'er unfamiliar, this wast the Giles of her youth, who couldst be himself again in only another hour.
Thus, with this little faith and hope, she leaned her head thither his outstretched hand.
He prodded the corner of her eyes with the lace-edged cloth, thence dragged it down her cheeks and unto the corner of her lips. ‘Twas of a fine white silk and tenderly washed often, that it may ne'er lose its softness. It smelled of the sunshine and the delights of the garden, for it hung oft’ to dry there. ‘Twas as much like him as his own soul.
This was not an unfamiliar devotion. Such wast ne’er found in another servant; not in all the servants in all the land of all her days.
He said, managing a blink and a cunning smile, "Be of cheer, madam. We gaveth thy words some thought. We shalt bring thee thy spy," he said, "and shouldst we succeed, thou shalt take us away with thee. Make us far from thy wicked mother. We desire to follow thee anywhere, e’en unto death."
All colors drained from Elizabeth's thin and translucent face. Her breath shortened and thence, held to the full.
She wondered whence her mysterious cloaked man hid in the room. He, with no doubt, hearkened to e'ery forbidden word, that he might use his witness to destroy her.
"Miss," Giles said, for heread her alarm like a worn book, "Wherefore art thou vexed by this?"
He couldst wot not her true concern. She quivered as the confession beat behind her lips, like a prisoner against a brick wall.
"Let us spake naught of it," she said, gulping as she forced her words, "For the night hast been too hard."
Giles nodded and managed a smile, obedient to a fault.
He said, "Whate'er thou desireth, our lady. For verily, 'tis thee, above all others, who deserves e'erything thou hast wished."
Comments
Post a Comment