Page 20 of The Midnight King
“Go upstairs and take your hair down,” orders Gilda. “Cinders, help the girls get ready for bed. No need to assist me tonight, just go to bed when you’re done and get some rest. I’ve decided you’ll attend the ball tomorrow night as well, provided you can secure the Prince’s attention for Amisa this time.”
Vashli casts a shocked, despairing look at her mother. At first I think she might argue, but where Amisa overreacts loudly to everything, Vashli tends to keep her feelings inside. After a second’s hesitation, she continues upstairs.
“Wouldn’t Vashli be a better choice to secure the Prince’s affection?” I say quietly. “Amisa is quite volatile, but Vashli—”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” snaps Gilda. “Obey me at once. Get the girls ready for bed.”
I know what her strategy is. She’s thinking that Amisa, despite her tantrums, will be easier to control. Amisa doesn’t think for herself. She obeys without asking why, whereas Vashli, if she’s emotionally invested in the Prince, might question and resist Gilda’s future plans.
I don’t care which sister gets the Prince. I must pursue my own interests and secure my future.
When I’ve finished helping my stepsisters prepare for bed, I pass by my stepmother’s room. Her light is still on. Doubtless she’s in there pacing and scheming. In that way, I suppose, she and I aren’t so different.
The next day is a flurry of activity. I have to help two grown women clean their teeth, scrub their skin until it glows, condition their hair with Madam Lentula’s Hydrating Hair Mask, wax their bodies, trim their nails, and countless other little tasks, not to mention preparing brunch and an early dinner, keeping the house spotless, and ensuring that the gowns for tonight have been steamed or fluffed appropriately. Then there’s the care of the animals, who are far less picky and demanding than their human counterparts.
The hours pass quickly, and by the time my stepmother and the sisters are flouncing out the door to their carriage, I’m exhausted. There’s no talk of me accompanying them—they all assume that I’ll fend for myself, as I did last night. I think Vashli hopes I’ll be very late so she has a chance to seize the Prince’s attention before I direct him to Amisa.
My stepmother seems rather distracted—she has been invited to another soiree, and I would guess the ladies she’s planning to see share her propensity for games of dice and cards. I’m sure she’ll do her best to worsen our financial situation this evening.
If I can escape her—escape this city—none of that will be my problem anymore. It will break my heart to leave Eisling House and the animals, but I can’t let my affection for them hold me back from regaining my free will.
Even if my stepmother lets me live once the anklet is off, I can’t trust her not to regret her mercy. With the Crown Prince in the palm of her hand, she’ll be able to send men after me anytime. The moment the anklet leaves my leg, I must run far, far away.
After my step-family leaves, I sink to the floor with my back against the front door, utterly worn out from doing the work of three ladies’ maids, a housemaid, a cook, and a farmhand all by myself, all in one day.
My head tilts back against the door and my eyes close. I don’t realize I’ve dozed off until a delicious smell wafts under my nose—warm bread, cinnamon sugar, and vanilla.
I blink and rub my sore neck, conscious that I was dozing with my head at a very uncomfortable angle.
Before me crouches my Faerie godfather, holding a small plate. On it rests a decadent cinnamon roll, drizzled in vanilla icing.
“You’re tired,” he says sympathetically. “Eat this. It will help.”
I eye him suspiciously. “I’ve heard horrible tales of Faerie food.”
“This is my father’s recipe, with a twist of my own. It will heal you and give you energy.”
“Howdoes it heal?” I ask. “Is it like what you did with the cow?”
He winces. “Not exactly. To heal a human, a Faerie must contribute certain—physical essences.”
“Such as?”
He sighs. “Can’t you simply eat it? Do youhaveto ask how it works?”
“Yes, I do, because judging by the look on your face, I’m not going to like the answer, and I would prefer to know what I’m consuming.”
“Fine. Physical essences include blood, tears, saliva, sweat, piss, and cum. Full-blooded Fae don’t typically sweat, so that one is difficult to obtain. Usually it takes three of those vital essences from a Fae to achieve a healing effect on a human, but my case is unique. None of my essences provide healing, except one. That essence, when consumed, has a powerful restorative effect.”
“Which essence?”
He clears his throat and glances at the creamy white icing drizzled on the cinnamon roll.
“Oh my gods… are you saying what Ithinkyou’re saying? That yourcumis in that icing?”
The look on his face answers the question for me.
“Fucking hell!” I leap up and walk away from him, toward the kitchen.