Chapter 34
Her father arrived just in time to stop their squabbles. Once they had explained the cause of the disagreement, her father and the boy shared opinions on the painting, which resulted in Caedmon praising their unexpected guest. She almost couldn’t believe it. When was the last time he’d directed such words at her?
Soon enough they were in the great hall, where the boy would eat his first meal in weeks. From the look on his face, she would have thought he’d never eaten before. With wide eyes, he marvelled at each component of his stew and even cried at the taste. Afterward, her father told him about how he had wound up in their care, and then asked after the reason as to why he’d been unconscious on the side of the Winding Road. She wasn’t prepared for the tragic story that followed—nobody was, not her father nor the house servants—as he told his tale through quaking sobs. To see this boy crying made her uncomfortable, as if it were something that wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not a trace of his earlier confidence remained as he spoke of his life as a slave in the Kingdom of Loyarre, in the County of Melsian that lay so close to her secluded hometown. She had never considered herself particularly lucky, but this opinion changed once she heard the boy’s tale. The abuse of the guards, the thought of his father dying in his arms, the breaking up of his family—it was too much. She wanted him to stop talking, since every development he shared was worse than the last. He had been forced to leave his sickly mother behind, along with the only friend he’d ever known, only to witness his uncle’s murder before having to flee through those dangerous forests in a desperate attempt to stay alive. Could she have entertained such a sound conversation as the one they’d had in the art hall if she had just woken up from such a nightmare?
It was commonly known that slaves and peasants lived lives without luxury, but she had never given much thought to their daily lives. Suddenly she was ashamed that she had spoken ill of his mother, however lightly it had been. The moment she noticed her own tears, she immediately left for her chambers, cuddling up on her wide, four-poster bed, eyes absently staring up at its fine silver canopy.
She had barely lain down when she was startled by a great ruckus. Her father was running about and barking orders in a belligerent frenzy. After going out to see what the ruckus was all about, she had retreated back to her room with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She had never seen him like that before, his face pale and painted with sweat, his eyes strained and his breathing laboured. What had happened?
She chose to spend the rest of the day in her room, though decided that first she would head to the basement to apologize to the boy. She hovered outside the room that they’d put him in, indecisive as she struggled over how to word her apology. It was seldom that she apologized to anyone, so she wasn’t sure what to say. She stood in silence as her mind drew a blank, but soon heard weak sounds coming from within the room. The boy was sobbing. Frowning, she returned to her chambers, more distraught than she had been in a long while.
The next day was full of surprises. The boy, Alistar, was actually her cousin. His mother had been her father’s younger sister and best friend, and what was more, she was still alive. Anice didn’t know much about her auntie because it was a very soft topic for her father, but she knew that Laisha was a kind and strong woman, and that her father had respected her more than anybody else in his life.