A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

What he said shouldn’t feel like a compliment, but his words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, nonetheless.

“He will never do that again,” he added, dragging his hand over his head, and clasping the back of his neck. “That type of behavior isn’t like him. He has a temper, yes. But he normally wouldn’t do that. He’s worried.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Tavius always had a cruel streak, and my mother and stepfather were either blind to it or chose not to see it. “What does he have to worry about?”

“The same thing that plagues you,” he answered. “He just doesn’t express it as vocally as you do.”

No part of me believed that Tavius worried about the people unable to feed themselves. If anything, he worried about how it would affect him one day.

“I’m sorry you had to see what you did this morning,” he continued. Once more, I was struck silent in surprise. “I know you found them.” He leaned back, resting his hand on the arm of the chair. “No one should have to bear witness to that.”

I blinked, and it took me a moment to work past more unanticipated words. “Maybe not,” I cleared my throat. “But I…I think some do need to see to truly understand how bad it’s getting.”

“I know how bad it is, Sera. And that is without seeing it.” His gaze met mine.

I took a step toward his desk, hands clasped together. “Something has to be done.”

“It will.”

“What?” I asked, suspecting that he believed I still played a role in stopping it.

His gaze flicked to one of his many shelves and the glass trinkets on it. “We just need time.” Weariness clung to the King’s tone when he sat back in his chair. So did heaviness. “We only need to wait, and the Rot will be fixed. It will all be fixed in time.”

Leaving my stepfather’s office, I had the same feeling I had when a bad nightmare lingered hours after waking, and I had to remind myself that whatever horror had found me while I slept wasn’t real.

It was an anxious sort of feeling. As I left the stairs and made my way to the banquet hall, I kept my head down, ignoring the many servants and how they ignored me. I didn’t know what the King thought would change. There needed to be action. Not patience. Not reckless hope.

Entering the banquet hall, I rubbed at my sore arm. I needed to change and then find Sir Holland. I was sure to be late for our training. I didn’t know if—

“Please.”

I stopped mid-step and turned, scanning the space. The long, wide chamber was empty, and the alcoves leading to the meeting rooms appeared empty, as well. I looked up to the second-floor mezzanine. No one stood at the stone railing.

“Please,” came the whisper again, from my left. I turned to the candlelit alcove and the closed inside door. “Please. Someone…”

Stepping into the shadowy area, I pressed a hand against the door handle and held my breath as if that would help me hear better. For a too-long second, I didn’t hear anything.

“Please,” the soft cry came again. “Help me.”

Someone was in trouble. The worst kind of thoughts entered my mind. When these rooms weren’t in use, no one checked them. All manner of terrible things could happen in them. I thought of some of the Royal Guards and the younger, pretty servants. My blood heated with anger as I turned the knob. In the back of my mind, I thought it was strange that the door opened so easily. Heinous deeds were usually carried out behind locked doors. Still, someone could’ve fallen while cleaning one of the obnoxious chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of every chamber. One of the servants had suffered an agonizingly slow death that way a few years ago.

Stepping into the chamber lit only by a few scattered sconces, my gaze landed on the dark-haired girl kneeling beside the low table, centered between two long settees. “Are you okay?” I asked, hurrying forward.

The girl looked up, and recognition flared. It was one of the young women from the kitchens who’d been praying. She didn’t answer.

“Are you all right?” I asked again, starting to kneel when I noticed there was nary a wrinkle in her starched, white blouse. She was pale, her light blue eyes wide, but not a single strand of hair had fallen free from the bun secured at the nape of her neck, nor was her lace cap askew.

The servant’s eyes darted over my shoulder to something behind me.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I heard the thud of boots, softened by the plush carpet. The door closed…

Then I heard it lock.

The girl’s gaze shifted back to mine, and her lips trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.