Author's Preface
Content Warning: This chapter contains references to child abuse, pregnancy loss, sexual exploitation, and prejudice.
Jaziel walked through the servants’ quarters. It was a long hall with doors lining the corridor every few feet. It was below the palace, so there were barely any windows. Instead, candles and wooden chandeliers were lit even during the day. But despite the lack of natural light, the hall was clean, well-kept, and most importantly, warm.
Not all the servants lived within the palace. Usually, the quarters were reserved for those who lived outside of the capital or simply didn’t want to travel. The autumn chill hadn’t grown harsh enough to fill the servants’ quarters yet. But once the first snow hit, he was sure servants would once more begin filling these chambers. Jaziel was grateful, though.
Fewer servants meant fewer eyes.
He stopped a good ways in, offering a passing palace maid a courteous smile. She returned it with a quick bow and continued on her way. Jaziel waited until the hall was once more consumed by silence before knocking on the door in front of him. It was quiet for a moment, but then the door opened with a creak, revealing a shorter, older woman on the other side.
She looked about Nimue’s age but far more battered and exhausted. Sweat clung to her brow, and a small cough escaped her throat. She was still dressed in her nightgown. Her eyes widened when she noticed Jaziel. He tilted his head in greeting.
“Good morning, Mirelle,” Jaziel said warmly. She gawked at him for a moment before offering a quick bow of the head.
“My lord!” Her voice was hoarse, another cough escaping with the sudden exclamation. Jaziel waited patiently for her to compose herself once more.
“I apologize for bothering you so early when you are quite unwell…” he said, placing a concerned hand on his cheek. Mirelle shook her head in reply.
“Not at all, my lord… how can this lowly old woman help you?” she asked, bowing her head once more. Her eyes never meeting his. He was pleased to see that after all her years of service, she still remembered her manners. Unlike a certain lady’s maid her age.
“I wished to have a chat. You are one of our longest-serving residents, after all. It’s only right that I should check in on you when you are feeling unwell,” he replied. His smile was the picture of chivalry. Mirelle glanced up at him through her lashes for a moment, but it didn’t last long.
Mirelle hesitated. “I am grateful, my lord… all I can offer you is tea.”
“Tea sounds lovely,” he replied. Her lips formed a thin line, but a moment later, she stepped aside and pulled the door open farther. He offered a grateful nod before stepping inside at her invitation.
The room was modest. There was only enough space for a bed, dresser, and small table. Despite the lack of furnishings, the place was quite warm. A handmade quilt covered the bed, and on the dresser were a few small vases of flowers. Mirelle pulled out a chair, and Jaziel sat, making sure to offer her a grateful smile. She sat across from him and poured the tea. Jaziel accepted it with a polite bow.
“Since you are sick, I thought I would bring you something,” he said as he pulled a small container of honey from his pocket. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to last a single person a few days. Her eyes widened at the gift.
“Honey? I couldn’t possibl–”
“I insist. It may help your throat so you can recover quicker,” He interrupted, gently pushing the honey to her side of the table. Her eyes glistened for a moment as she took the honey in her hands.
“I am indebted to you, my lord,” she said with a grateful nod. Jaziel simply smiled and took a sip of his tea. It was lukewarm and watery. But he would not allow the disgust to show on his face. She was only a cleaning maid afterall, not a kitchen one.
He let the silence stretch just long enough to feel natural.
“Those flowers are quite pretty,” Jaziel said, breaking the silence as she poured herself a cup. She looked toward the dresser, admiring the flowers.
“Yes… a few of the servants bought them for me,” she replied. A small smile crossed her lips. Jaziel smiled and nodded.
“You have some wonderful friends,” he replied, taking another sip of the tea against his body’s will. She nodded and smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“Yes… they are truly like family.”
Silence once more settled over the room, but it wasn’t awkward.
“Speaking of family… Nimue is your cousin, right?” Jaziel caught the slight flinch at the sudden mention of Nimue. She refused to meet his gaze afterward, she simply nodded a reply. He lifted the teacup to cover his mouth as a knowing smile crossed his face.
Jaziel traced a finger along the rim of his cup. He stared at his reflection for a moment, taking note of his facial expression before leveling a confused look in Mirelle’s direction.
“My apologies… was I wrong? I could have sworn…”
“No, my lord… we are cousins.”
“You came to the palace with her… right?” Jaziel continued. His head tilted with what appeared to be curiosity. Mirelle hesitated for a moment, rubbing her thumb nervously against the side of her cup. Her eyes grew distant, as though recalling a specific memory.
“Yes… but that was long ago. She… doesn’t speak to me much anymore.” There was something like sadness in her voice. Jaziel leaned forward slightly, gently resting a hand over hers.
“I see.” His eyes softened sympathetically. Her eyes glistened once more. She nodded gratefully before pulling her hand away. Jaziel smiled but went back to sipping his tea.
“I came across something curious,” he continued lightly.
“While reviewing the archives.” Confusion flickered across Mirelle’s features. But he continued before she could say anything.
“Nimue received… quite a significant sum from my mother. For several months.” His tone dropped ever so slightly as he leveled his gaze at her. The older woman stiffened and looked at her teacup anxiously.
“I was wondering… was Nimue sick or something during that time?”
The older woman’s eyes sharpened at the question. “Why do you want to know?”
“Well… Nimue has been part of our lives for so long… I would worry if something serious happened.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, Mirelle watching Jaziel ever so carefully. More carefully than someone who had nothing to hide would ever look at him. He just smiled and tilted his head in the same dumb confusion he used to give Jamila whenever she asked him about his new wounds. Mirelle held his gaze for a moment longer before coughing and letting out a long sigh.
“I’m sure Nimue would be a better person to ask about that than little old me.” She looked both wary and exhausted now. It was a dangerous combination. Jaziel nodded reassuringly.
“You’re right… I apologize.” For a brief moment, Jaziel looked almost sheepish, like a boy gently scolded for overstepping.
“I simply didn’t want to bother her if it was something minor… she is so busy being a lady’s maid,” he said with a bashful laugh. He noticed her jaw flinch and her eyes shift with something akin to jealousy. He had done enough.
He bowed his head and pushed his tea away as though preparing to leave. Her body relaxed slightly at the gesture. He stood and began walking away from her, only to freeze as if he’d suddenly remembered something important.
“Ah, right… How is your family?”
Her face lit up, and some of the tension left her posture. She opened her mouth to speak but froze. Jaziel’s gaze remained fixed on her with complete interest. She smiled at his expression and continued.
“I’m expecting another grandchild soon. My fourth.”
“Four? My goodness…” Jaziel said as he stepped to the side so they could see each other more easily. “I can hardly handle my son and niece some days.” Another laugh escaped him, and this one felt almost genuine. He took a breath and steered his mask back into place.
“Are you certain you aren’t a god yourself? Perhaps a distant relative to Myrios,” he asked with a sly smile as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She laughed softly and tapped the back of his hand affectionately.
“Although with your work… I imagine you don’t get to see them often.” His expression softened again. She shook her head. Her eyes darkened slightly as the energy seemed to leave her.
“No… but it is my honor to serve. I will retire one day.” Her smile was genuine. Hopeful, but exhausted.
Jaziel sat once more, which barely seemed to register with her. He rubbed his pale chin as if trying to think of something. Then his hands suddenly clapped together, a giant, excited smile crossing his face. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and carefully revealed a treasury note with an exorbitant amount of money on it.
To her, life-changing.
To him, nothing. Jamila would probably never notice it missing.
“I see no reason to wait,” he said simply. Warmth softened his smile, one he had seen Jamila use hundreds of times.
Mirelle froze, her eyes fixed on the numbers. Her fingers twitched, but she pulled them closer to her own body.
“I… I couldn’t-”
“I insist. I was thinking about giving it to Nimue… but I feel you deserve it more.” His tone was ever so warm. As if the sun had become a person. He noticed her still hesitating.
“It’s just… you served us so well, and children grow up so fast. You should enjoy your time with them.” Still kind. Sickeningly so. He felt like his face was going to cramp if he had to keep up Jamila’s smile any longer. How she managed it all the time was beyond him.
She reached out and gingerly took the check. Grateful tears began cascading down her face and she coughed, cried, and thanked him. Jaziel patted her hand and then stood.
“Well, I should not keep you any longer… the sick need rest after all.” He began to walk toward the door, not looking back at the older woman. His hand settled on the door handle when he heard the chair squeak behind him.
“My lord…”
He turned his head over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Mirelle looked up at him, something earnest in her eyes. And something else, even darker, that he didn’t want to place. He turned fully around and tilted his head in confusion once more.
“At the time… Nimue was one of your father’s favorites.” The words landed. Heavy. Jaziel’s stomach turned, but his expression did not shift.
“I see,” he said calmly.
“And the payments?” he asked with feigned confusion. He already suspected the answer, but he needed to hear it spoken aloud. Mirelle hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the corner of the check.
“She was pregnant.” Silence followed, but only for a moment before she continued.
“The child did not survive.”
Jaziel fought the urge to smile. He walked back toward Mirelle and knelt before her, taking one of her hands. He squeezed it affectionately before looking at her with tear filled-eyes.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I can only imagine how difficult that must have been.”
Her smile returned, though it was much smaller this time, guilt still lingering in its corners.
“Don’t concern yourself with the rest of your contract,” he added. “Your retirement begins today.”
“I hear Azharis is beautiful this time of year,” he said with a wink. Her eyes lit up. She began mumbling about everything she and her family would need to pack.
Jaziel stepped out the door as Mirelle kept bowing profusely. He offered a charming smile and a small wave before turning and walking away. He needed to remove himself from the servants’ quarters before anyone else could notice him. Once he was far enough away, his expression changed.
The warmth he had been wearing was gone, replaced by an icy stare. As he turned over the conversation in his head, he grew increasingly frustrated. His father had lain with Nimue. That in itself wasn’t out of character for the prick.
But a child?
Thankfully, the child didn’t survive. Otherwise it could have screwed up his whole right to the crown. Not to mention muddy the bloodline. He froze. His father had screwed up his right to the crown. No, Nimue had. His sister became empress because of Nimue. Nimue raised his sister. His sister had a child with a Thornblood. The crown was screwed up and so was the blood.
His eyes burned. He ran an exhausted hand through his hair. His poor, naive sister was manipulated on multiple fronts. He could fix this. He would do what his father should have done. By the end of the day, she would be gone from the palace and from Jam’s life, one way or another.
She would not get away with what she had done.
Comments