Mally rose before dawn, her shoulders tight and knotted. Lita and Gerda didn’t say a word to her as they quickly dressed in their freezing room. Gerda would have had no idea how much Bob’s imprisonment would mean to Mally, leaving Mally to assume Lita had told her sometime last night. Mally knew that today was the opening day of the Winter Ball and that she needed to be on her toes with all the new guests arriving, but her first priority was tracking down Meriyal, or Mildred, or Evelyn. She had to know what had happened last night when they had snuck into the dungeons. She had to know if Bob was hurt … if he was alive.
In the Servants’ Chambers, Mally hardly ate. She sat perched on the bench, scanning the crowd for one of the three women.
“You have to eat something, Mally,” Lita finally said.
“I’m not hungry,” was Mally’s reply, her eyes never ceasing in their search.
Lita humphed beside Mally’s elbow and lifted a buttered roll before her eyes.
Mally blinked in surprise.
“Eat,” Lita said firmly. “Trust me, you’re going to need it.”
Mally half-heartedly took the roll and was just about to take a bite when she saw Evelyn out of the corner of her eye. Dropping the roll, Mally leapt to her feet and ran to the opposite end of the chamber, Lita staring after her in alarm.
“Evelyn!” Mally gasped once she had reached her.
Evelyn turned to her slowly, her face tired and sour.
“Help me in here,” Evelyn ordered before shuffling into the small storage room off the chamber. Mally did and Evelyn shut the door behind her, blocking out the noise from the Servants’ Chamber.
“Well?” Mally asked without preamble. “Is he all right? Did you see him? Is he—”
Evelyn raised a hand and Mally stopped her blubbering. With a tired sigh, Evelyn sat heavily in a chair.
“First off, don’t go yelling my name like that anymore. Clearly, you don’t have a discreet bone in your body.”
Mally blushed.
“If you want to discuss Bob’s plight, you do it quietly and not around listening servants, hear me?”
Mally nodded.
Evelyn snorted and shifted in her chair.
“He’s alive.”
Mally’s heart soared.
“The dolt had too many drinks at the Lone Candle and decided to break into the Bell Tower and ring the bells,” Evelyn explained.
In Mally’s relief, she actually smiled.
“Silly Bob.”
“Stupid Bob,” Evelyn corrected her sourly.
“Do you have any idea how long he will be in the dungeons?” asked Mally nervously.
Evelyn had risen and started past Mally to the door. She paused and half turned to Mally.
“I have no idea.”
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Mally was still terrified for Bob, but now that she knew he was alive, she could focus on her task of escorting the arriving guests to their rooms. And as she did, Mildred and Meriyal found her and gave her similar information about Bob.
“He’s got a nasty bruise on his cheek, but no broken bones,” Mildred had told her in an undertone as they stood in the crowded Great Hall, waiting for the first carriage to wheel up to the front doors.
“You do think they’ll let him go, don’t you?” Mally had asked her.
“It’s happened before,” Mildred whispered carefully. “No reason not to keep our fingers crossed.”
But Mildred’s lack of reassuring eye contact did little to increase her hopes.
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The servants spent the day escorting guests to their rooms. The castle was incredibly crowded and noisy. Mally was nearly knocked flat by Christopher as he lugged a giant trunk around a corner.
“Oh! Sorry, Mally. Didn’t see you!” Christopher panted in apology as his slightly sweaty face peeked around the massive trunk’s side.
“Are you having trouble, my dear boy?” asked an old woman who had just emerged from around the corner behind Christopher. She looked up at Christopher with a wrinkled, concerned smile and all thoughts of Bob were momentarily swept aside as Mally stared at the woman, completely taken aback.
She was very short, and seemed to have tried to regain her youth by carefully curling her poorly-died hair (a shocking rusty red) and plastering heavy make-up on her wrinkled face. Mally marveled that the woman could see Christopher at all, for her eyes were squinted and the surrounding eyelashes drooped from the thick black layer of paint on them. She blinked and peered at Christopher as though it were very bright in the dim hall.
Her attire was just as shocking The dress she wore was so ruffled and such a vibrant shade of orange that Mally stood with her mouth open in alarm. She also seemed to be carrying a large yellow, fluffy handbag in her arms.
“No, Madame Bones,” Christopher huffed, trying to shift the trunk a little in his arms as his thin legs quivered under its weight. “It just seems a bit heavier than last time.”
Madame Bones laughed good naturally and absentmindedly patted his arm. That was when Mally realized that the handbag was not a handbag at all, but an extremely fat cat. Or perhaps his size was simply due to the alarming amount of fluffy fur covering his body.
“Madame, perhaps if we hurried to your chamber, Mr. Banks can deposit his load,” said another woman who had just emerged behind Madame Bones. She was quite tall and thin. There was an unhealthy pallor in her face, and the lines about her mouth and eyes made her look older than Mally suspected she was.
“Too true, Cayla, too true,” Madame Bones agreed happily. “Lead the way, dear boy!”
Mally stepped out of their way as Christopher staggered down the corridor. Madame Bones passed Mally with a distant, cheerful smile, the cat in her arms turning reproachful eyes toward her, while Cayla Black followed. As Cayla passed her, Mally teetered on the edge of speaking to her. Mally could only imagine what sort of valuable information she might possess. Like her mistress, as Cayla walked past, she turned to nod politely to Mally only to stumble as her eyes focused on her.
“Are you all right?” Mally asked, catching Cayla’s arm to steady her.
“Yes, thank you. This dress is a bit too long for me. Third time I’ve tripped today.” Cayla lifted her heavy skirt a bit, revealing black shoes, each with a silver, ornate buckle.
At least it’s not orange, Mally thought. She’d rather trip all day in a too-long dress than wear one that made her eyes water.
“Thank you again,” said Cayla, and before Mally could think of any way to bring up Cayla’s previous position, she had continued down the hall after her mistress.
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The guests had come from all over Lenzar. Madame Bones’ manor was located in Leaveston, just a few days from Bosc, but there were many who had spent days in their carriages. Mally was fascinated as she watched wave upon wave of the wealthiest inhabitants of Lenzar enter the castle doors. As Betty had said, most tried to hide the fact that they were positively terrified, but poor Lord Buckmund nearly leapt out of his skin when Sir Alexander Vinsus greeted him, and then looked quite faint when Vinsus succeeded in pulling him away to have a drink.
Stolen novel; please report.
Having lived her life on a rather secluded farm on the outskirts of a very small town, Mally had no idea how exhausting a horde of people could be. When the knights sat in the parlors before and after dinner, they didn’t require constant supervision. The servants usually just brought them their favorite drink and left. But with the guests, Mally and the others had to line the walls and look inconspicuous while keeping tabs on how full each person’s glass was. Mally couldn’t wait for the end of the ball.
And she was still extremely nervous about Bob. Any time there was an opportunity—when one of the three women were alone, when a large enough crowd masked their whispered conversation—she would ask about him. Every night they had been sneaking down to his cell.
“No, they are still holding him,” Meriyal said before Mally had even opened her mouth. They were alone in the cellar, retrieving more bottles of wine.
“But it’s been three days!” Mally exclaimed. “Surely they’ll let him go soon?”
“Bob broke into the Bell Tower. Molick probably wants to make an example of him.”
Mally’s blood turned cold. Example? Mally didn’t like how that sounded at all. In her frozen state, Meriyal took the opportunity to load her arms with wine bottles. Mally forced herself to ask, “Are they … are they going to … to kill him?”
Mally had hoped that Meriyal would laugh. That she would chuckle, saying no one would be killed over that. But she didn’t.
Meriyal gazed at her very sadly, and suddenly looked every one of her years.
“I don’t know, Mally. I really don’t know.”
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Mally was in a constant state of nervous tension. Lita and the others soon learned to be careful with what they said around her. They all perfectly understood that Bob meant a great deal to Mally and none of them could comfortably reassure her. Mally had never felt so completely helpless. She had tried to write to Galen, asking for the rebels to help save Bob from the dungeons, but every draft she wrote sounded more blatant than the next. Any knight would know exactly what she wanted them to do the moment they’d read the first line. And it was near impossible to sneak out of the castle during the festivities. She was forced to wait … wait to see what Molick finally decided to do.
And that terrified her.
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The fourth day of the Winter Ball brought the actual ball and Mally was forced to stop worrying over Bob as she tried to keep her wits about her. Archie had given Mally a large silver tray of chocolates and asked her to weave her way through the large crowd of knights and guests in the ballroom. Lita had also been given a tray of chocolates, but Archie had made a mistake in that choice. Mally had spotted Lita, quick as a flash, stealing chocolates off her own tray and placing them in her pockets. Once, she caught Lita’s eye and Lita actually flushed before shrugging and winking.
“I have not raised you to behave like a three year old.”
The angry hiss made Mally turn in surprise. She blinked many times. Ivan stood a short distance away with an imposingly proper woman in a dazzling gown of rich velvet. Mally could have kicked herself. She hadn’t once thought that Ivan would be there. He must have come for the ball. Perhaps she could speak to him? Ask for his help in freeing Bob?
Mally, as inconspicuous as she could possibly be, while holding a tray of succulent chocolates, slowly weaved her way a bit closer to them.
“Mother, I have apologized to you already,” Ivan replied tartly. “Shall we let it go at that?”
“We shall not!” Mrs. Finley spat under her breathe. “You know your obligations. What His Majesty must think! You have been absent for most of the festivities!”
“I will profess my deepest apologies to His Highness if he has lost any sleep over my absence,” Ivan replied dryly.
Mally nearly laughed. She had managed to get behind a large statue and a group of dukes. Mrs. Finley looked like she was about to breathe fire.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” she demanded. “Where is Coletta?”
“I have no idea,” Ivan said in a bored voice. He twirled a glass of wine between his fingers.
Mrs. Finley suddenly narrowed her eyes at her son and said in a calmer tone, “Coletta and I have been talking and we both agree that Spring would be a beautiful time for your wedding.”
“I will not wed Coletta, Mother.”
“What is it that you don’t like about her? She’s a charming, delightful girl—a perfect match!”
Ivan gave a noncommittal jerk of his head and drank his wine.
“Arguing, are we?”
A man who looked like an older version of Ivan, though with much less hair, suddenly stood at his wife’s elbow.
“Brendan, talk to him!” Mrs. Finley exclaimed in exasperation.
“Of course, my dear. But first, we must dance!”
Mr. Finley flashed an understanding smile at Ivan as he gently led Mrs. Finley to the dance floor. Ivan snorted and glared at the other guests, daring any of the girls eyeing him to come any closer.
Making up her mind, Mally walked up to him.
“Chocolates, sir?”
For a moment Ivan looked floored. But he quickly masked it and took a chocolate. He turned to face the twirling guests. Out of the corner of his mouth he asked, “How are you?”
“Bob’s in the dungeons. How do you think I am?” Mally whispered back.
“I heard about it. Galen and I have been trying to figure out a way of getting him out—but it’s too dangerous, Mally.”
“Too dangerous!” Mally cried in a strangled whisper.
Ivan continued not to look at her and Mally quickly offered her chocolates to a chatting pair of duchesses.
“You should go,” Ivan murmured. “We shouldn’t look too friendly.”
Feeling the balloon in her chest that had inflated with hope be slashed by his words, Mally turned on her heel and marched off.
A husband and wife moved away from Mally and she suddenly caught sight of Madame Bones. Mally was amazed she hadn’t spotted her sooner. She looked like the sun. Her gown this evening was a blinding yellow, fully decorated with dinner-plate-sized roses. How the woman chose her outfits baffled Mally. She let her eyes leave Madame Bones to settle on the man who stood beside her: King Salir. He and the Madame were in rapt conversation, and the king didn’t look like he wanted to be anywhere else. Mally marveled that he wasn’t squinting from the glare.
Madame Bones was one of the few guests who didn’t seem the tiniest bit unnerved by the knights or king. She must be very brave. Or clueless, Mally thought dryly. On Madame Bones’s other side stood Cayla Black who, Mally was pleased to see, was dressed in a much calmer gown than her mistress. It was a simple bronze with a cream sash tied round the waist.
Cayla was not participating in the conversation. Instead, her eyes roamed the room, her face and stance passive. But Mally frowned when she saw that Cayla’s hands were clenched tightly together—so tightly that her knuckles were white. Nathan stopped before them carrying a tray of wine. He offered glasses to the king and Madame Bones, each of whom took one, but Cayla demurely shook her head, smiled, exchanged some words with Nathan, and watched him pass her. Mally suspected that if Cayla had accepted a glass, it would be shaking in her hand.
It also didn’t escape Mally’s notice that Cayla was receiving a fair amount of attention. Nanette Longwood kept shooting furtive glances at her friend, but never made a move towards her. Molick looked simply livid at Cayla’s presence and wasn’t bothering to hide it. And even though Sir Anon was thoroughly enjoying the party, Mally had seen him shoot a surprising amount of glances at Cayla.
Cayla behaved as if she didn’t notice any of this, but her hands gave her away. King Salir suddenly said something to her and she quickly responded, dropping a short curtsy as he politely left them to tend to his other guests. As Cayla rose, her eyes caught Mally’s and, flushing in embarrassment, Mally smiled before hastily offering Countess De Lenora some chocolates.
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It was the fifth day of the ball and Mally was stumbling down a dark, deserted corridor. She had been awoken in the middle of the night to tend to the Duchess of Silverton’s fire and bring her a late night cup of tea (“Two sugars, please dear”). Knights sometimes sent for servants in the night, so each servant’s room had small bells attached to wires that ran to their “charges’” rooms. The inhabitant of said room tugged on their end of the wire—which was always a lavish rope—making the other end—which was always a thin wire—twitch the bell until the servant could no longer ignore it. Since the arrival of the guests, Mally had already been pulled from her bed more times than she cared to think about. Honestly! She was human! She needed her sleep!
It was common practice for the servants to go in pairs when tending to the knights’ calls after hours. It was safer that way; but during the ball, there were so many guests that the servants had to see to the many summons alone.
“I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Hebitha had me busy.”
Mally nearly stumbled. The voice had come from up ahead. Suddenly feeling more awake, Mally inched closer until she could peer around the corner. There, silhouetted by the moonlight streaming through a window, were Cayla Black and Nanette Longwood.
“No need to say more,” Nanette replied casually. “I’ve met Madame Bones enough times to know she can be a handful on an easy day. You look good, Cayla. You really do. I just wish we could get together more often than these seasonal balls.”
Mally thought Nanette was being a bit too polite there. Cayla had looked positively green by the end of the ball. And even before that evening, she had looked ill to Mally, as if she hardly ever went outside.
“You know I don’t like coming to Bosc,” Cayla replied.
“I don’t blame you,” Nanette sighed.
“I noticed that you have a new servant,” Cayla observed.
“Oh, Mally.” Nanette nodded. “Archie’s taken quite a liking to her.”
“Archie?” Cayla smiled wryly. “Goodness, she must have charms.”
“You know Archie. Mushrooms are the way to his heart,” said Nanette with a chuckle.
“She seems vaguely familiar,” Cayla mused. “What did you say her name was?”
“Mally. Mally Biddle.”
Mally heard a strange note in Nanette’s voice, as if she were asking a question, rather than making a statement. She had even turned her head slightly to see Cayla’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. Or maybe Mally’s sleep deprivation was playing games with her.
“Biddle?” Cayla asked sharply.
“Yes. She’s an orphan. Came from Halspeare.”
“Orphan?” Cayla’s voice sounded oddly perplexed.
“She’s been rather interested in you,” Nanette informed her. “I think she has some sort of fascination with the royal family.”“That sort of fascination is dangerous,” Cayla said quietly. Then Cayla stepped abruptly away from the window. “I should get back. Hebitha won’t like it if she wakes to find me gone.”
With a slight nod, Cayla walked away, her long skirt swishing softly about her ankles. Mally watched as Nanette stared after her. After a moment, she too left the window and headed slowly to her quarters.