Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

She sighed and her smile faded. “That’s all past. Today, our concern is just his entertainment. I told him yesterday what you said about not being afraid. He liked that, he said, and asked that you serve him and Lord Dedrick at their private supper tonight.”

Lord Dedrick Maszuryn—Lord Kosenmark’s companion and sometimes lover. The other girls told stories about him in private, punctuated with giggles and sighs. Ilse had seen him several times in the common room, but never alone with Lord Kosenmark. Lord Kosenmark a duke’s heir, she thought. An exiled councillor. A man very much alive to his condition, in all senses of the word. Yes, she would have to guard her expression carefully.

“Would that bother you?” Mistress Raendl asked. “If it does, I can suggest to Lord Kosenmark that you would prefer to stay in the kitchen.”

Ah, but then he would know she had lied about being unafraid. Ilse shook her head. “It won’t bother me. And thank you for telling me, Mistress Raendl.”

“Your thanks will be a good job. Come along. They’ll miss us in the kitchen and start gossiping about nothing all over again.”

Back in the kitchen, Mistress Raendl set Ilse to stirring sauces. Ilse tried to keep her thoughts on the task itself—stir with firm, even strokes—even though she kept seeing Mistress Raendl’s troubled expression as she recited Kosenmark’s history. Lys was watching her, she noticed, but to her relief, it was a busy night, with no time for chatter.

/> Two hours later, just when Mistress Raendl had ordered Ilse to make ready for serving dinner, a runner came with news that Lord Kosenmark wanted service to be set back an hour. Mistress Raendl scowled at the news. “Why?”

“Lord Dedrick sent word that he was delayed, I heard.”

Mistress Raendl muttered a curse. “Very well. Not that I have any say in the matter, but very well. Tell Lord Kosenmark that we are delighted to change our schedule to suit young Lord Dedrick. We’ll have to make new sauces then.” Still grumbling, she dismissed the runner and gave the sauces over to Kathe with orders to use them with the spiced fishcakes. She mixed a new batch herself and gave that to Ilse to stir, muttering, “The house will eat well tonight.”

Before Ilse had finished stirring that batch, the runner came back with more news. A short whispered exchange followed, then Mistress Raendl turned to Ilse, her mouth tight. “You’re to go make ready.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much. Lord Dedrick hasn’t come, but Lord Kosenmark sent word to start without him. Go dress now. I’ll have the first tray ready before you return.”

Ilse ran for the dormitory, where she washed her hands and face, braided her hair afresh, and then changed into her best linen gown. Last week, Janna had shown her the cosmetics provided for these occasions. Working quickly, Ilse applied powder to her face, color to her lips, and dark kohl to her eyes. It had been months since she had used anything to decorate herself, and for a moment, unwanted memories joined her in the empty dormitory room. All she needed was scent and jewels …

… the sound of Paschke’s musicians, Baron Mann’s warm lips kissing my hand.

She suppressed that thought and hurried back to the kitchen. Mistress Raendl looked over her appearance and nodded approvingly. “Well done. You look neat and pretty.”

“Part of the presentation,” Ilse murmured.

Mistress Raendl’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Just so. Here is the first tray. Lord Kosenmark is dining in the Blue Salon. You know it?”

Ilse nodded. “First floor. The far corner on the west side.”

“Excellent. Now hurry.”

The tray held napkins, silver goblets and spoons, and bowls of creamed soup, seasoned with green and red peppercorns. There was also a full carafe of wine. Ilse hurried along the servants’ corridors and through the more public wings, until she reached the more private wing beyond. She passed through several smaller suites, which were empty, and came at last to an arched doorway with paintings done entirely in blues and darker violet, which showed Toc’s death, Lir weeping over his body, and then the resurrection. Balancing the tray against her hip, she knocked.

Lord Kosenmark’s voice called out. “Come in.”

Ilse pushed the latch down with her elbow and swung around to push the door open with her shoulder. She was so preoccupied with keeping the tray level, she didn’t notice Lord Kosenmark’s appearance until she was fully into the room.

He’s naked.

She stopped in shock, then remembered Mistress Raendl’s warning about showing no surprise. She took a deep breath and continued forward, keeping her gaze on the table in front of her, and not the man seated behind it.

Kosenmark made a noise in his throat. Ilse glanced up. A priceless wine cup, carved from jade, sat to one side. It was empty.

He leaned back and gestured for her to refill the cup. Ilse set the tray down, keeping the table between herself and Kosenmark. He was not naked, she saw. He wore a pair of black silk trousers, which the huge curved table had hidden from her view. A fine gold chain glittered against his smooth chest, and his long black hair hung loose over his shoulders.

She refilled his cup. When he nodded for her to proceed, she laid out Lord Dedrick’s place setting. A glance showed her that Kosenmark still watched her. Her composure wavered, but she kept her hands steady. Soup. Spoons. Napkins folded just so. A wine cup that matched Lord Kosenmark’s.

Done. Now Kosenmark leaned back and indicated his own place. Ilse circled around the table to arrange his setting. The napkin had come unfolded. She folded it anew, as Kathe had taught her, and set that by the plate. Kosenmark did not move but she was distracted nonetheless. He was barefoot, and now she saw that his shirt lay discarded in the corner. She caught a whiff of his scent; the smell of wood smoke and cedar transported her back to the night he rescued her. Lord Dedrick had been present then, too, she remembered.

“My guest is late,” Kosenmark commented lazily.

His smiled bitterly at no one, finished off his wine, and poured another cup, emptying the one carafe. Wordlessly, Ilse replaced the empty carafe with the one she had brought. He must have been drinking steadily for at least an hour.