The Cold King

CHAPTER ELEVEN


MORNING FINALLY CAME AND CALIA jumped out of bed before the sun rose. She washed and fixed her hair and put on a new gown. She packed all her things and then sat at the window, waiting for Marchello to come take her home.

Her sister got up next and started the fire to make hot water for the tea. Her mother eventually came out of her room to lounge in her armchair while Moli got the little kids up and began making breakfast.

Calia said nothing, did not even turn away from the window.

Finally her mother spoke. “The next time you return, perhaps the king can send you with some cloth and shoes. Oh, and chocolate. And more gold than he sent this time. I am sure he’ll want to properly compensate the woman who raised his servant.”

Calia kept her breathing shallow and even. She did not blink or acknowledge her mother. When she heard the carriage come rattling down the street she jumped up, grabbed her bag and ran out the door to wait.

“Moli, close the door before all the warm air gets out,” she heard her mother snap. The door slammed shut and Calia was left in the street without even a goodbye.

She was standing still as stone with tears pouring down her face when Marchello pulled up. He jumped down in alarm and pulled Calia to him. “What’s the matter my dear? Are you all right?”

“Take me home, please,” she mumbled.

He looked from her to the house, his face hardening in anger. “Of course.”

Calia numbly watched the trees pass by as she rode back to the castle. Marchello said nothing when he helped her down from the carriage, just gave her a sorrowful look before taking her bag in.

The main hall was empty and Calia was grateful not to encounter anyone in the palace. But as she opened the door to her room, the king opened to door to his and stepped out into the hall.

“You are back,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

She took a deep breath, wrapped her arms tightly around herself and turned to face him. If he was shocked by her red rimmed eyes she could not tell because of his damned mask. “Never again,” she said quietly.

He cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

She hiccupped on a sob. “Do not do that to me again.”

The king stepped towards her with an outstretched hand. “Calia—”

She closed the space between them and leaned against him, hiding her face against his chest. The king stiffened in shock and Calia refrained from wrapping her arms around him but she didn’t move away. “I am sure you thought you were doing something nice for me but it wasn’t,” she mumbled against his perfect shirt. “Do not send me away again. I won’t go.”

The king relaxed and she felt a feather light caress on her hair. After a moment of silence he leaned his head down to whisper in her ear, “As you wish. Never again.”

Calia let out a breath she did not know she was holding and nodded against his chest. With her head down, she stepped away from her king and she was surprised by how much it hurt. “I’ll just get settled in and then fetch your lunch tray.”

She scurried into her small sanctuary and leaned back against the closed door. She did not see the king standing in the hallway with his hand over his chest where her head had rested. She did not hear him come to her door and press his other hand against it.





They were both quiet for the next few days. The king did not ask what had happened during her visit and she did not offer to tell him. He watched her as she silently went about her tasks, dusting his treasures and beginning a new shirt for him. Calia thought perhaps he was angry about how she had spoken to him or that she had touched him but she did not care. That one moment had lit a warmth in her she had never felt before and she wouldn’t trade it for all the silent rebuking in the world.

Three days after returning home Calia entered the king’s room with his breakfast tray and nearly dropped it when she saw him. In place of the diamond mask was one of simple white silk. It still covered from above his brow to below his cheek bones but she could clearly see his eyes. They were a bright sage green, lined with dark lashes and filled with trepidation. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized she had been staring at him for an uncomfortably long time.

Finally she approached to set his tray down. He watched her, tense.

“Good morning,” she said quietly. “I trust you slept well.”

“I did,” he rumbled. He made no move to touch his tray, just sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

She fidgeted from foot to foot, trying desperately not to look at his eyes. Finally she risked a glance and found he was staring at her. “What is it, my king?”

“Do you find my appearance unsettling?”

Her mouth dropped open at his ridiculous question. “No, of course not. It is your masks I find unsettling.”

“Do you find me very ugly?”

Calia flushed, bewildered by his line of questioning. “Not at all, my king. Why do you ask me such questions?”

He sighed. “I used to be very handsome. I had many women swoon over me, even from a young age. Do you believe that?”

“I do,” she said with hesitation. He heard it too and his eyes snapped back to hers, flashing with anger. “I do,” she insisted. “Even with your face hidden, you are very handsome. I am sure it matches the rest of you very well.” Her cheeks warmed and she looked away in embarrassment.

He gave a bitter laugh. Calia squirmed, discomforted by his questions. Why would he care if she thought him handsome? She kept her eyes away from his, scared she would see him staring at her again.

Her eyes alighted on a new object in the room, a mirror large as large a door, encased in a gold frame. Calia looked from the mirror to her king.

“When did you get that?” she asked.

“It arrived last night,” he said flatly.

She walked over to see it better. It was a lovely piece, the frame ornate enough for any fine painting. “Was it a gift?” she asked.

He got up and went to stand by her but was careful to not let himself show in the mirror. “I suppose you could call it that. King William sent it.”

Calia twisted her fingers together. “That was nice of him?” she asked hesitantly.

The king let out another loud, bitter laugh and she jumped. “No. It is not nice. He knows I do not have mirrors in my palace.”

Calia thought back and realized she hadn’t seen one anywhere. A small note lay on the table next to the offending mirror and Calia picked it up.

‘So that you may see yourself more clearly’ it read.

“Why do not you like mirrors?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.

He said nothing and she turned to lay a gentle hand on his tense arm. “Why won’t you let anyone see you with your mask off?”

He finally turned his eyes to hers. “No one looks upon my face. Not even me, not until he sent this damned mirror.” She was surprised and saddened by the haunted look in his eyes.

She gave a little smile and patted his arm. “Then I shall take it away.”

It was heavier than she had thought but she managed to drag it out of the room and down the stairs. Iago spied her dragging it across the courtyard and helped her to carry it to the barn. They stored it with the reflecting glass against the wall.

“Do not ask,” Calia said in a weary voice.

“I wasn’t going to.”





When she returned to his rooms the king was at his desk, several documents in front of him. He didn’t thank her or even acknowledge her entrance. Calia took her place by the fire and pulled her sewing basket into her lap. After a moment she glanced up to find the king staring at her with a pained look on his face.

Her stomach fluttered. “Are you all right, my king?”

He nodded but didn’t avert his gaze.

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

He hesitated before shaking his head and finally turned back to his documents.

Calia stayed late that evening. The king had been quiet and pensive the entire day but lacked his usual harshness. He fidgeted in his chair, stared off into space and sighed every few moments. Calia became worried he was catching ill but just as she stood to fetch Iago the tenth bell rang. The king looked up and pinned her with his bright eyes. “It is late Calia, you should be in bed already.”

She nodded and let herself out. Curious again, she pressed her ear to her door after she shut it and waited. Sure enough, after a few moments the king’s door softly opened and closed. Calia counted to ten before easing her door open and poking her head out into the hallway. The king was at the far end and just disappearing around the corner.

The next evening when she got up to fetch his dinner tray he cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “Calia,” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.

She stood frozen at the door. “Yes, my king?”

“Perhaps you would like to dine with me tonight.”

Her heart banged painfully against her chest. “I would like that very much.”

He nodded and ducked his head to hide the twitch of his lips. “Ask Cato to help you carry the trays up.”

Cato was incredulous when Calia repeated the king’s instructions. “You’re going to eat up there? With him? Why?”

Jos smirked from his chair at the table. “What an astounding development.”

Calia quirked her eyebrows at him but he just laughed and turned away.

Cato arranged the trays and helped her bring them up. After he set them down, he turned to the king. “Can I get you anything else, My…” He trailed off and the king looked up from his desk.

Cato stepped back as he took in the new mask. He looked from the king to Calia to the king again. “Um, My Lord,” he said hastily. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nothing, thank you.” His voice was hard and tight but he relaxed visibly when the cook left the room. He touched a finger to his mask and Calia wondered why he was so self-conscious about it.

With a sigh the king stood from his desk. “Shall we?” he asked, sweeping his arm to indicate the table.

Calia nodded and took a seat but didn’t move to take the cover from her plate. The king didn’t either. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she finally asked.

“Calia, I haven’t dined with anyone outside of the wretched formal dinners I am occasionally forced to attend so please forgive me if my manners are a bit rusty.”

“I was just worried about you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be. Now eat your dinner.”

They ate in silence and when they were finished she cleared their dishes and the king excused her for the evening. Exhausted by the confusing day she gratefully retired to her room but when the tenth bell rang she snuck out of bed to press her ear against her door. Once again she heard soft swooshing and clicks as the king left his room. Where was he going to at night? For a second she debated following but quickly decided against it. Satisfying her curiosity would not be worth his wrath.

In the morning she let herself into his rooms with his breakfast tray in hand. The king wasn’t at his desk. “Oh no,” she whispered to herself, “He really was getting sick.”

She sat the tray down and turned to find him standing in front of the fireplace. His hair was unruly and his shirt rumpled and un-tucked. His skin held a strange pallor and Calia rushed over to him.

“My king, are you all right?” she asked. It appeared he didn’t even hear her question and panic shot through her. “My king?” she repeated and reached a hand up to feel the temperature of his forehead. Slowly he roused himself from his daze.

He looked down at her and frowned and she pulled her hand back. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

She hadn’t felt a fever but he clearly wasn’t fine. “I don’t think you are, my lord. I will go fetch Iago.”

The king shook his head and grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving. “I don’t need him, I don’t need anything.”

Calia tightened her fingers around his and despite her worry she thrilled at the sensation of his rough skin against hers.

“You are pale and unkempt and you didn’t even hear me speaking to you,” she insisted. “Something is not right. Please, tell me what I can do to help.”

His lips turned up into a faint, sad smile. “Sweet Calia,” he murmured. “You remind me a little of her.”

A little pang of jealousy struck her. “Who, my lord?”

“My sister. She was very sweet, always looking after me.” His mind seemed very far away. “Three hundred and ten years ago today she died.” Calia watched with alarm as the silk fabric of his mask darkened under his eyes. Her cold king seemed to be melting right in front of her. “I still miss her every day. Is that silly?”

Calia threw her arms around her king, pulling him close. “That’s not silly at all,” she said with a thick voice. She pressed her face against his shoulder and felt his arms come clumsily around her waist. “Your sister sounds like she was a wonderful person.” The king shook against her and Calia knew he was crying.

She also knew the pain of mourning a loved one and so she didn’t let go. The king tightened his arms around her and sunk his face into hair. After a while his breathing evened out and his arms dropped.

He stepped away and turned his back on her. “Please forgive my weakness,” he mumbled and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

Calia bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Finally she said, “I lost my father a few years ago. He was a good man, but I was the only one who seemed to think so. My mother was pregnant with the twins and hated him for leaving her in such a state. My younger sister always went along with whatever she said and so I was left to mourn him alone. It was awful, almost as painful as losing him in the first place.”

The king nodded his head but didn’t turn around. “How did he die?”

“He was exploring in the mountains. He called it research and always carried a little book with him that he would sketch pictures of plants and animals in.” Calia smiled to herself. “My father didn’t do anything with the information, he was a just a miner, but he was always curious and loved discovering new things.”

She wrapped her arms around her chest, remembering her kind and gentle father. He had made life wonderful but when he passed it had all turned bleak.

Painful memories began to seep in and Calia shook her head to clear them away. Looking up, she spotted the abandoned breakfast tray and poured a cup of tea for the king. When she placed it on the small table next to his armchair he spoke. “Thank you for your kindness. I trust you will speak of it to no one.”

“Of course not,” she murmured.

“Then I shall excuse you for the morning. I…have a lot of work to do.”

“Of course,” she repeated and let herself out.





Abelina found her in the library sometime later with an unopened book in hand.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked after watching her for a moment.

Calia looked up, her face pensive. “Yes, thank you.”

“You look sad. Is there anything wrong?”

Calia shrugged her shoulders, unsure of how to answer. Finally she settled on, “I promised not to speak of it.”

“Then you shouldn’t.” She looked the girl over. “But you are all right? You are not harmed in anyway?”

Calia’s eyebrows furrowed down over her darkened eyes. “Of course not. It’s just that, well… I don’t know how I feel anymore.”

Abelina kept her face smooth to hide her surprise. “About what?”

A flush crept up on Calia’s cheeks and Abelina guessed the cause. “I don’t know. Everything.”

“You mean you don’t know how you feel about our king?”

Calia looked up, her eyes ablaze.

“Easy, child. I remember how it was coming here, I know how you feel.”

Calia doubted that very much, she didn’t even know how she felt.

“I hated the king, at first.” Abelina glanced at the young girl. “Yes, I know it’s treason to say it, but I once felt the same way you did. I didn’t choose to come here.”

Calia held her breath and waited for the housekeeper to continue.

“I used to be very young and beautiful. My parents weren’t wealthy but they did well enough. I even had a beau.” She smiled to herself. “He was so handsome. I thought we would be married. But there was another family, a very wealth family, vying for his attention.”

Calia said nothing.

“He wanted me, that much was clear. We were a good fit, we loved the same things, despised the same things. But it was no match for wealth. The king came down the summer before I thought my love would propose to me and demanded a housekeeper.” Abelina sighed. “There were so many unwanted girls; I never thought I would be chosen. But money can accomplish a lot.” She gave a sad smile. “They paid for me to go, to clear the way for their daughter.” She glanced at Calia. “I too was locked in the dungeon, I too was forsaken. I hated the king for a long time, blamed him for every bad thing that had happened to me.”

Her face softened and Calia watched with wonder. “But many good things have happened since. That is why you struggle? You can’t balance your old, hard life with this new, good one?”

That wasn’t it at all but Calia couldn’t find the words to explain her distress.

Abelina reached out for her hand. “Don’t hate the king. Under the mask, he is a good man. I might have been made to stay in the village, a forsaken maiden. No one would have married me.” Abelina gave a forced laugh. “The king didn’t ruin my life, he saved me. He saved me from shame, from a lonely existence.”

Calia examined her face. “But…”

Abelina looked up wistfully. “I would have liked to have had children,” she admitted. “It’s my only regret. But I still don’t blame the king. I found a truer love in his home, a calling, a place in life. I can’t imagine my existence without the king. Can you?”