The Cold King

CHAPTER TEN


IN THE MORNING SHE KNOCKED hesitantly on his door. There was no answer as usual so she slowly pushed it open.

She inched towards the king and carefully set his tray down. The silence was uncomfortable and she struggled to find something to say that would convey her sympathy. She bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot. His mask sparked in the morning light and caught her eye.

The king looked up to find her staring at him. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head, mouth dry. “No. I just wanted to say…I don’t think you are so bad.”

One corner of his mouth twitched up for a second. “I don’t care how you feel about me one way or the other but I will thank you for your kind sentiments all the same.”

Calia nodded stupidly and stood at his desk until he took a small amount of pity on her.

“Fine. Then we will meet the king in the throne room and hear out his request.” He looked up again, taking her in. She had fixed her hair and selected her second favorite gown. The Cold King nodded his approval and stood.

Like the previous day she followed him like a severe ghost. In the throne room he picked up one silver tray with a perfect rose on it and instructed her to carry it. “But I thought—” she gasped.

He shook his head as the doors opened.

King William swept in merrily but Calia could see the dark rings under his eyes and the slight way his fingers shook. He grinned at her king before bowing and Calia wondered that his nose could appear even redder than it had the night before.

He rose, a little unsteadily, and his eyes caught on the silver tray Calia held. They grew bright and he flashed a smile over his shoulder to his younger daughter. She answered with her own vicious twist of the lips and stood straighter to force her barely concealed chest out further.

Calia tamped down a sudden burst of fury. How dare they think her king would be won over to some ridiculous marriage scheme because of a tasteless dress worn by a crass girl! She glanced down at the rose she held and grimaced. Well, she did not think he would be.

“King Valanka, I trust you slept well?” King William asked.

“I did,” the Cold King rumbled. “Please forgive me, but I wish to see you off before poor weather sets in. What is it you wished to see me about?”

The man’s grin widened and he beckoned his harlot of a daughter to come stand at his side. “My king, you must know of the immense respect I have for you as a man and as a ruler. I too strive to provide the best for my country and also my family. I feel a strong connection to you and your land and believe you feel it as well. That is why I wish to join our two kingdoms and offer to seal them with the offer of my daughter’s hand.” He swooped down into another ridiculous bow and his daughter curtsied, making sure the Cold King got a perfect view of her overflowing cleavage.

Calia held her breath. A union with this girl could make her personal life hell and she had no idea what political ramifications it could have for her people. Thankfully the Cold King did.

“As flattering as your offer is, I must decline.” Calia winced at the cold, flat tone of his voice but was glad. The lesser king was not. She watched as the red in his nose bloomed out over his cheeks and down his neck.

“Surely you can see how advantageous this arrangement could be?”

“To you? Yes. To me and my kingdom, a hundred times no. Dealing with your little minx of a daughter would be a chore I would wish on no man. And you have brought nothing but poverty and war to your people. I would never risk infecting my kingdom with such vile things.”

The king puffed and huffed and his daughter first tried fake crying then desperate sobs before quickly turning to seething silence. Throughout the whole thing the eldest daughter stood stoically and kept her eyes on a point above all their heads. Calia felt badly for her. She could not imagine such a terrible existence with family like that.

King William flung his hand out to point at Calia. “Then why the rose?” he thundered.

“Oh, that?” the Cold King asked lightly. “That’s just because I think it’s pretty.”

“The rose or the girl?” the younger daughter sneered. “Have you no need for a real wife when you can roll in the hay with that little strumpet whenever you like? I bet you can command her to do things no real woman would submit to!”

Calia gasped and nearly dropped the tray. Her face quickly grew to an ugly shade of red and tears pricked her eyes. Of all the horrid things that had ever been said about her, that had to be the worst.

The Cold King stilled so perfectly Calia wondered if he was even breathing. Then he slowly stood to his full height and stepped down the carpeted stairs. The weaker king wobbled slightly but did not back away.

“Take your awful daughter and leave. Never return here again.” They all heard the warning in his deadly tone and Calia was grateful for it.

With a tight, grim smile the oldest daughter turned and left and after a moment her pouty, foot stomping sister followed. Their father swallowed hard a few times, as if trying to think of something to say before finally turning and leaving as well.

The king did not turn to face Calia when he spoke. “You know I would never ask those sorts of things of you.”

She nodded before remembering he could not see her. She cleared her throat. “I do.”

“And you know I would never think you would oblige such things.”

Calia wiped her tears away. “I do.”

“Good. Then we both know where you stand.”

He finally turned to look at her. “You mustn’t let others get to you so much. You need to be stronger, grow a thicker skin. Stop crying so much.”

Calia nodded but did not see how that was possible.

The Cold King sighed. “Come, I still have work to do and my treasures aren’t going to dust themselves.”





The weeks that passed after that were quiet, peaceful ones. As Calia grew more comfortable in her role she needed less direction from the king and began to do things more freely. One day she finally entered his personal sleeping chamber and found it to be in shambles. The bed clothes were twisted and lumped together in the middle of the mattress and in dire need of changing. The floor was filthy and dust covered everything, including the drapes. It was dark and depressing and Calia slowly backed out.

“My King,” she called.

He looked up from his desk.

“Why is your sleeping chamber in such disarray? Why have you not asked me to clean it?”

He watched her for a moment before answering. “I thought you would find it improper.”

A little laugh burst out before she could stifle it. “It’s just a bedchamber. Assuming I’ll be cleaning it during the day while it’s unoccupied I cannot see anything improper in that.”

He gave a little nod but still watched her warily.

“Would you like me to clean it now?” she hinted.

The king gave a little sigh of relief. “I would like that very much.”

Calia shook her head in amusement. If the mess had bothered him so much he could have just ordered her to clean it.

As she dragged the dirty bed clothes out and began dusting and wiping and mopping, she thought. He was such an unusual man. He had lived in a dusty, untidy bedchamber for fear she would be uncomfortable but had no qualms about taking her freedom.

She slowed to a stop as she knelt on the wet tiles.

He was trying.

The entire situation was ideal for no one and yet he was trying, for her sake.

Calia thought back and tried to remember a time anyone had been so considerate of her feelings and could think of none before she came to the palace. Saddened but uplifted, she returned to her cleaning and was glad for the smile on her king’s face when he saw his fresh, clean room.

“Thank you, Calia,” he murmured.

It continued on like that, her doing something nice for him and him returning the favor with kindness. It wasn’t friendship and her fear never fully abated but it was something warm and comfortable and Calia began to appreciate her new life and home despite mourning her freedom. The more she thought about it the more she could not think of what she would do with it anyway. Go home to be her mother’s slave and not treated half so well? Go out into the world, a penniless woman traveler?

Both ideas seemed wretched compared to living in luxury and serving a cold king in the simple ways he commanded. Over time it grew to a point the Calia felt there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be and could not ever imagine leaving her new home. She threw herself into her tasks, into her new friendships with other servants and into her time with the king.

The most surprising result of her joyful efforts was that she finally managed to replicate the complicated silk shirts his previous servants had sewn for him. When she finally held the perfect garment in her hands she almost couldn’t believe it. She inspected every seam, every button, searched all the fabric for any loose threads before finally presenting it him.

Calia stood in front of his desk with the shirt folded in her outstretched hands and waited for him to notice. He eventually looked up and took in her goofy grin. “Did you finally manage it?” he asked.

“I think so. Here! Try it on.” She prayed the fit was right and twisted her hands together while he inspected the shirt.

“It looks fine,” he said doubtfully before walking over to the mirrors near his dressing area.

Calia followed and he turned sharply. “A little privacy, if you please.”

Calia’s cheeks flushed. “Of course. I wasn’t trying to… I’ll be just outside.”

She waited in the hallway, full of self-loathing. He thought she was trying to watch him… She slapped her hands to her face and tried to shake away the embarrassment.

“Come,” he finally called. She took a steadying breath and opened the door.

The Cold King looked exactly the same except for a small smile. “It’s perfect,” he said. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He watched her for a moment. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Calia shook her head. “Oh no, you have given me too much already.”

“I meant something I cannot pull out of my vault or pay for with gold.” He rubbed a hand along his perfect jaw. “I think you are due for a visit to your family.”

Calia’s stomach turned in on itself. “Oh no, I do not think that’s necessary.”

The king took her by the shoulders and squeezed. “You are too selfless, Calia. Even servants deserve a break. I will be fine without you for a few days and you can assure your family you are well.”

“I am not sure they care,” she mumbled.

“It will be good for them to see how well you are,” he said softly. “And it will be good for you to just be Calia for a short time, and not a servant. So, pack enough things for two overnights and in the morning Marchello will take you down to the village.”

Calia thought for a way to decline his generous gift but could not find one that did not outright disobey him. He had told her to go so she would have to.

Calia slept poorly that night. No one had cared when she had left, no one would care she had returned to visit. She wondered if her mother would a have a list of chores for her or if her youngest siblings would even remember her. She wondered if she would even be allowed in the house.

In the morning her anxiety was double.

She fixed her hair and dressed in a gown of muted grey to match her mood. Marchello greeted her with a sad smile when she met him in the courtyard at the carriage.

“It’s only for a few days,” he promised. Abelina stood next to him, barely holding back tears.

“He’s right, just a few days and you’ll be back with us.” She sniffed and dabbed at her cheeks before pulling a jar out of her pocket. “Iago asked me to give this to you. It’s a calming tea.”

Calia gave a little smile. “Being with my mother for the next few days I am probably going to need it.”

Abelina folded her into a tight hug and then Marchello helped her into the carriage.

She fought with her stomach the whole ride. How would she be received? Clearly the king was unaware of how reviled his servants were by the townspeople. If he did, he wouldn’t have sent her. She shuddered with the thought of what he might do to right that wrong.

Calia almost had to call for Marchello to stop so she could empty her stomach but she managed to keep its sloshing contents down. With a groan she sunk her head into her hands. She did not want to go back to her old life, even for a day. She had spent a lifetime being a servant girl to her uncaring mother and invisible to the town’s people; she had spent the last several months making friends and being appreciated.

When they pulled up in front her old house Calia could not make herself get out. The carriage shifted as Marchello got down and she flinched when he opened the door. He held a hand out and she looked at it with tear glazed eyes.

“It’s quite all right my dear,” he said gently. “In two mornings hence I will return for you.”

She nodded mutely and finally extended her hand to let him help her down.

The door to the house cracked open and after a second was pulled back. Her mother stood in the doorway with a look of shock on her face. “Calia?” she asked. Two little faces peered out behind her skirt. “My word,” she groaned. “You’ve been dismissed so soon? Can you not do anything right?”

Marchello shot the woman a hard look. “Miss Calia is home for a short visit. I will return for her in two days and the king expects to see his servant refreshed and of good cheer.”

Her mother shrunk away from his steely words and glanced back to Calia. She seemed to really see her daughter this time and her eyes widened. “Of course.”

“Quite,” Marchello snapped before turning to unload the carriage. He set three bags down on the doorstep.

“Wait,” Calia said. “I only packed one.”

He smiled. “The other two are gifts for your family, from the king.”

At his words the twins popped out from behind their mother and descended on the luggage. Calia laughed and snatched them up. “Can you wait until we are inside?” she teased.

She turned back to Marchello. She was pretty sure he would die of improperness if she threw her arms around him so instead she whispered, “Two days?”

“Two days,” he whispered back. “I promise.”

She nodded and turned back to face her family.

Her childhood home was not as clean as she remembered, not as clean as she had kept it. It was also much quieter. She wandered about the small main room and her family silently watched her. It saddened her to see there was no memento of her, no reminder that she had ever been there or been a part of the family. She stuffed her sadness down and turned to the younger children. “Shall we see what’s in the bags?” she asked them.

They squealed with delight and fell on the bags like rabid dogs. Even her mother had a predatory gleam in her eyes as she watched them pull things out.

There were wooden toys and dolls for the children and a book of poetry for her sister. There were fine clothes for everyone and a large canister of tea. Tucked in were packets of spices they could never have afforded, a ream of thick paper, little jars of ink and one heavy bag filled with gold coins. Calia watched in wonder as everything was pulled out. It was as though the king knew exactly what her family was lacking and her heart surged at his kindness.

Her family greedily tucked their new treasures away before finally acknowledging to her. Her mother awkwardly gestured for her to sit before turning to the teapot. Calia watched her hesitate over her new treasure of tea and sighed. “I have a small jar in my bag. Perhaps that would be most agreeable.” She hoped the calming effect was strong and swift.

Her mother gave a forced smile and fretted over her dishes while she waited for the tea to brew. Finally she had nothing to do but sit down opposite of the daughter she had given away.

“So my dear,” she finally said in a falsely bright voice. “I can see my decision for you was the best one.”

Calia choked on her hot tea. “How do you mean?”

Her mother fluttered her hands up and down. “Well, look at you. Life at the castle has certainly agreed with you. You must be so glad I was able to give you this life.”

“I do not know what you mean, Mother,” Calia said coldly.

The older woman started at her daughters tone and fought to remain in the best light possible. “Well, you look lovely. Your hair has darkened and your skin paled. You fill your dress out quite nicely; he must be feeding you well.” She cocked her head to the side. “And you have such lovely clothes. And you get to ride around in a carriage! You’ll be the envy of everyone in town.”

Anger surged in her chest but Calia knew it was useless. She could always count on her mother to take credit for anything good thing, whether she deserved it or not.

“What’s he like?” Moli suddenly asked.

Calia eyed her younger sister and raised an eyebrow. “He’s a king and my master. What more could there be than that?”

Moli looked at her wistfully. “But is he handsome? Is he strong and kind and gentle?”

Calia frowned. “What nonsense are you talking about? Have you been reading that rubbish Mrs. Lent’s loans out from her husband’s book shop when he isn’t looking?”

“Calia!” her mother gasped.

Calia rolled her eyes. “Please mother, I only know about them because I found one hidden under your pillow while making your bed.”

Her mother had the good sense to flush. “Enough unladylike talk. Moli, get your siblings ready, we are going to dine out tonight.”

The children roared with delight and began flying about the small room. Calia watched her sister chase them down with wet rags and wrestle them into their new clothes while her mother sat and drank tea.

Part of her wanted to help her sister and part of her just wanted to stew in misery until she was able to go home. Eventually she gave in and helped. Her mother preened in front of the one small mirror they owned and finally turned to take in her children. She smiled with satisfaction. “This is how we should always present ourselves.”

Calia rolled her eyes. Her mother had always thought she deserved the best, that for some reason life owed it to her.

She sullenly followed her family to the town’s one inn. The dining hall was brightly lit and soft, cheerful music poured out. Calia took a deep breath before forcing herself to enter. There were couples and families seated everywhere and Calia picked out several familiar faces. None seemed to recognize her until they took in her family.

“Do not just stand there like a bumpkin,” her mother hissed in her ear. “Smile.”

Calia smiled for all the people who had so callously sent her away and prayed dinner would go quickly.

It did not. People stopped at their table all evening, coming over in curiosity to get a glimpse of Calia. Her mother thought all the attention was for her and preened and basked in it.

Calia just kept her fake smile fixed on her face and pushed her food around on the plate.

Over and over the town’s people commented on her hair, on her skin, on her figure, on her fine dress. Not one person asked how she was doing or if she was happy or if the king was a fair master. It was worse than being invisible. They all saw her but they still did not care.

At home her mother collapsed into her arm chair with a happy sigh. “Did you see the look on that wretched Mrs. Hadrian’s face when she realized it was you?” she tittered.

Calia had.

“I thought she would just fall over with jealousy. Her daughter married the baker’s son a few months after you left and the way she carried on you would have thought she had married a prince! But now her perfect daughter has to help at the bakery and you should see her. Her hair is dreadfully plain and she always has flour on her clothes. Little miss baker’s wife isn’t so perfect anymore. And when she saw you, I thought her eyes would fall out of her head.” Her mother leaned back, relishing in the other woman’s jealousy.

Calia fought back her anger with coldness. “I did not go off and marry a king, mother. I am a slave to one. And no matter how well he treats me, I will always be a slave while she will get to be a wife and a mother and grandmother. I hardly see how I came out the victor with a haircut and a new dress.”

Her mother pouted and sat up straight. “I was paying you a compliment. Really, you’ve always been such a sour girl. I would have thought you would be happier with everything that’s been given to you.”

Calia sighed and rolled her tense shoulders. “I’d like to retire now. Where shall I sleep?”

Her mother’s brow furrowed and she glanced around the room. Before she could suggest the armchair or the floor, Calia cut in. “Moli shall sleep with you tonight and I will take her bed.”

Her mother and sister opened their mouths to argue but Calia jumped up, snatched her bag and left for the tiny room that had been half hers before they could say a word.

She sat on the hard little bed for a long time, not thinking, not feeling. She had known she would be unhappy here again but she did not know it would be in such a painful, uncomfortable way. She was just a curiosity they all felt free to inspect.

Calia got ready for bed and lay down but sleep wouldn’t come.

The sun wasn’t up before she finally gave in and got up. The rest of her family was still sleeping and she quietly fixed herself a cup of tea. She stood at the counter drinking it and taking in her old home. Her hands itched to scrub and wipe and straighten but she refused to give into it. She had done enough cleaning for them.

Eventually her sister rose and began to the get breakfast ready. She shot Calia a sullen look. “This used to be your job, you know.”

Calia glared at her. “And now I have a new one with no hopes of ever leaving it. At least you will one day get to leave to start your own family.”

The wisdom of her words was lost on her sister.

After a terrible breakfast, Calia’s mother insisted she put on her best gown. “We have some shopping to do.”

The younger siblings clamored to go along and she shushed them quickly. “You will all stay here. I wish to spend time with my oldest daughter. I get to see you brat’s every day.” Calia winced at her harshness but was touched that her mother wanted to spend time with her.

Tender happiness soon turned back to anger and annoyance. Her mother’s intent was not to spend quality time with her but to drag her along and show her off while she spent the kings gold. Calia was taken into the hat shop and the meat market and the dress maker’s store. Whoever hadn’t gotten an eyeful of her the night before was getting their chance. Her mother showed her off maliciously and with the attitude that she was responsible for all the good changes her daughter had undergone.

Calia seethed quietly well into the afternoon until she could take it no longer. Her mother tried to pull her into the general store and Calia balked. “I do not want to see Mr. Horatio. He’s a terrible man and I never liked him. I could not care less if he sees me in a new dress or not.”

Her mother pulled her lips back in a snarl. “I care. Life is very difficult for me and it would help me and your siblings a great deal if you would show this town what good standing you with have the king.”

Calia’s jaw dropped open. “Good standing? He allowed his slave to visit her family. That is all.”

Her mother grabbed her arm with hooked claws and jerked her closer. “Stop acting like the most pitiful child in the world. The king took you in when no one else wanted you. And the last time I checked, slaves do not get paid. He has transformed you from a pitiful little girl with no future to a beautiful servant who has been afforded every luxury.”

Calia’s cheeks burned as realized the futility of arguing with her mother. “I will wait outside for you,” she said evenly and pulled her arm from her mother’s grasp.

Mrs. Thorn huffed and glared and pursed her lips but Calia just turned her back and wandered around to the side of the store to tame her emotions and gather her thoughts.

A long, low whistle pulled her back to the awful present. Mr. Horatio’s sons stood at the side entrance, staring down at her.

Delmar and Durand were handsome, wealthy and had parents who thought they were angels. To all the elders in the town they were respectful, helpful young men. To anyone their age or younger, they were bullies or worse. When she had still lived with her mother, Calia had wondered how their bad behavior had escaped the notice of the king until she finally realized money and well respected parents could erase a lot of misdeeds.

Suddenly fearful, Calia turned away and began walking back towards the front of the building.

“Hey, slave girl!” one of them called and she walked faster.

She could hear their feet shuffling along and risked a glance over her shoulder only to find them right behind her. She surged forward and Delmar caught her shoulder, flinging her around.

The brothers stood over her with evil grins and evil twinkles in their eyes. “We were talking to you.”

Calia shuddered and wrapped her arms across her chest as they looked her up and down. “What do you want?” she asked, praying her mother would come for her soon.

“We just wanted to see for ourselves,” Durand said, not dropping his creepy grin.

Calia shifted on her feet, fearing that wasn’t all they wanted. “See what?”

Delmar stepped closer and Calia inched back. “To see if the ugly stick girl really got transformed into a beauty queen.”

“Not a queen,” his brother interrupted. “Still a slave. But you are pretty now. How much magic did that take?” He laughed loudly and his brother joined him.

Calia gave a tight smile and stepped back again but Delmar reached out and crushed her arm in his meaty fist. “We were wondering why the king would waste any magic on making you pretty but I think we have it figured out. I mean, you are his personal slave right?”

Durand winked at her. “You are probably good at lots of things now.” He licked his lips and Calia nearly gagged. “Your mother is going to be in that store awhile, maybe you could show us a few.”

“I do not know what you are referring too, but I am not showing you anything,” Calia spat and pulled her arm from Delmar’s grasp.

Both their faces tightened in anger and Durand lunged for her. Calia shrieked and jumped back, just out of their reach.

“Calia!” her mother shrieked from the entrance to the ally. “What are you doing down there? And why are you making all that noise?”

Relief flooded her and she ran to her mother. Delmar and Durand followed, their faces smoothed into kind smiles. “She just wanted to say hello,” Delmar said with an easy lie.

Her mother eyed the brothers suspiciously before pulling Calia away. When they were out of ear shot her mother hissed, “What were you doing un-chaperoned with two boys in an alley? Do you have any idea how that looks? What would the king think?”

“They followed me down there,” Calia protested.

“Do not be ridiculous! What could those boys want with you?”

Calia bit her lip, refusing to answer her mother. She had heard terrible rumors about the brothers but no one seemed to think they could be anything but angelic.

Hurt and angry, Calia followed her mother back to the small house. Her siblings crowded around them as soon as they entered, demanding to know what they brought back for them.

“I have a headache,” Calia mumbled and excused herself to bed.

Her mother did not come to check on her, even when she did not come out for dinner. No one asked if she was all right and no one came to bid her a good night. Calia curled up in a tight ball on her bed, faced the wall and prayed for morning to come.

She hadn’t realized it would be so awful to visit. She had secretly hoped her family would be happy to see her, happy that she was doing well. At worst they might have ignored her or demanded that she clean. But instead they just wanted the gifts the king had sent and her mother wanted to rub her ‘status’ in everyone else’s face.

And the town’s people were just as bad. Not one of them had been kind or friendly, they were just as awful as they had always been. She missed the castle and the other servants. With surprise she realized she missed the king.

Shame flooded her. She shouldn’t miss him; after all, he had taken away her freedom and even locked her in a dungeon. But he had also given her a home and friends. She never had to worry about clothes or food; she did not have to work half as hard as she once had to at home. But it was more than that. She actually missed him. Despite his harshness and the terrifying masks he hid behind, he was a good man and he took care of her.

The clock slowly ticked off the minutes as she waited to be reunited with him. She drifted off to sleep thinking about his dark hair and the sharp, woodsy scent of his soap.