The Cold King

CHAPTER EIGHT


THANKFULLY CALIA TOOK TO READING much easier than she did to sewing. Every afternoon the king pulled her chair close to his and read out of a book written for children. At first she was terrified. She sat so close to him she could smell his woodsy soap and could see a tiny freckle under his jaw. He seemed not to have the same aversion to her and settled easily into reading aloud for her. Calia already knew the letters and the sounds and watched and listened closely as he traced a finger under the words as he spoke them.

After a few days he handed the book to her and told her to read to him. Sweat bloomed on her upper lip as he leaned over the arm of the chair to better see the book. In a shaking voice she began to sound out the letters in the same way the king had. Occasionally the king would touch her wrist to stop and correct her, otherwise he just sat beside her and listened. They ended every afternoon that way and then Calia would fetch his dinner tray before returning downstairs to her own meal with the other servants, her friends.

Calia cherished their friendship almost as much as she cherished the king’s sudden kindness. She was careful never to accidentally bring up anyone else’s painful story and she never hinted at her own. She did not want anything to break the happy spell winter had cast in the palace.

But soon the snow began to melt away from the stone walls and shrink into piles in the cobbled open areas. It began to get lighter earlier in the morning and it wasn’t long before the birds returned, singing out their happy tunes as the sun rose. Everyone seemed to feel the change and slowly shifted back into their appointed roles.

On the day the snow was finally fully gone from the ground, the Cold King sent Calia for Marchello.

He did not look up from his papers when he spoke to her. “Get me Marchello. Immediately.”

Calia bobbed a curtsy and her heart sank a little. She had hoped the warmth in his personality would have stayed.

Marchello led the way back to the king’s rooms and Calia gamely followed.

The king did not look up when they entered the room. His empty dishes sat at his elbow and he was scribbling furiously over whatever document he was working on.

The servants stood at attention for what felt like an eternity before he looked up.

The mask glittered in the spring sunshine coming in the windows and Calia barely repressed a shudder. Her hatred for the mask had not lessened even as her heart grew a little softer for the Cold King.

“We are to the have guests,” the king finally said quietly.

Marchello puffed up and let out an annoyed huff of breath. “Again?” he asked, his voice sharp.

Calia tried to peer at him without turning her head. Had he lost his mind?

But the king waved the uncharacteristic behavior off.

“Now, now Marchello, these things are to be expected.” He stood up from his desk and went to stand by the barren fireplace.

“I know, my lord, I just hate to see you bothered with these trite things.”

Calia bit her lip to keep from asking, ‘What trite things?’

The king saw her curiosity and gave a weary grin. “Yet another royal is attempting to foist his daughter onto me.”

She could not keep the horror from her face. What kind of father would tie his own daughter to such a beast?

“Do not look so shocked,” the king chided wearily. “I am quite the catch.”

“Of course you are, my lord,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the floor. But she could not believe that. Surely a father wouldn’t do that to his own child.

“Shall I have the staff prepare the south wing, my lord?” Marchello asked in a tired voice.

“Whatever you see fit,” the king replied, still staring into the cold fireplace.

Marchello left them and Calia shifted from foot to foot, waiting for some instruction from her king but he just stood in silence. His mouth was turned down and his shoulders almost slumped; she could just make out his furrowed brow above the hateful, glittering mask.

Finally he seemed to shake himself from his thoughts and turned to Calia. “This will be your first true introduction as my personal servant. I hope I needn’t remind you of all that is expected.”

Calia shook her head but she already doubted herself. She tried not to shrink back as he stepped towards her, scrutinizing every inch of her.

“Your hair is a disgrace. Do something with it.”

Calia’s cheeks flamed. His harsh assessments of her always stung but this one hurt more after the weeks of quiet kindness.

She dropped a curtsy to cover her shame. “Anything else, my lord?”

“Yes. They will be here tonight or tomorrow. You will make yourself impeccable and present yourself to me.” He reached out to place a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “Do not disappoint me.”

Calia kept herself from shaking. “I won’t, my lord.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment longer and all the fear that had begun to fade over the winter flooded back in.

When he released her she fled to her room on shaking legs. With the door closed behind her she sunk to the floor and wrapped her arms around her quivering knees.

She waited for the tears to come but they did not. Perhaps she was getting used to his unusual sort of cruelty and coldness.

When she was able, she pulled herself up from the floor and went to her small dressing table. After she had finally thought to inspect it in her first days in her new room, she had found fine bone handled combs and brushes, more than any one girl could need. Or so she had thought.

She had always managed well enough finger combing her hair and thought the fine tooth combs to be a nightmare. The found each and every tangle and ripped the strands right from her scalp.

With a sigh Calia pulled her long pony tail over her shoulder and began to try to work through the mess.

She gritted her teeth as the comb pulled and snagged. Tears of pain and frustration were soon leaking from her eyes as the knots grew more stubborn and seemed to multiply.

Finally she threw the comb to the ground.

The king would accept nothing short of perfection and she began to panic as she realized she could not achieve it.

“Abelina,” she whispered to herself and then took off to find her.





“Of course I’ll help, my dear,” Abelina said. She put an arm around Calia’s shoulder and led her back up to her room. “Did your mother not teach you how to care for yourself?”

“She did,” Calia mumbled, embarrassed by her predicament. “But she did not let me use her soaps or combs. She said they would be wasted on me.”

Abelina clucked her tongue. “Your mother sounds terrible.”

Once in her room Abelina led her to the bathtub. “Lean your head over the side so I can wash your hair.”

Calia noticed straight away the woman used much less soap than she did as she submitted to the scrubbing. When her hair was rinsed she began to rise and Abelina put a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait girl. Do not you oil your hair?”

Calia mumbled that no, she did not and Abelina kindly patted her. “Well, perhaps that’s part of your problem.”

She placed just a few drops of the sweet smelling oil into her palm and began to gently work it through the ends of Calia’s hair. How such a small amount could be spread throughout so much hair seemed unbelievable to her but Abelina clearly knew what she was doing.

Finally she sat Calia in front of the little dressing table and had her face the mirror. She started with very ends and began picking through them with the comb. Then she picked harder. Strands stretched and snapped and Calia winced. Though her face was screwed up with determination, Abelina was failing at her task.

Finally she tossed the comb onto the table and propped her fists on her hips. “Well, there’s nothing for it dear, it’s going to have to be cut. The sun has ruined quite a lot of your hair. Why you not wear a hat if you were outside so much?”

Calia cast her eyes down, ashamed to admit the reason. Finally she spoke, “I had an old hat I found and put it on whenever I was outside but it was too big and always fell off. I had asked my mother for a new one but she said it wasn’t worth the cost as I was already so ugly.”

She watched in the mirror as Abelina’s face first paled then became a fiery red. “Your own mother? What a horrid woman.” Her eyes were shining and despite her anger she sniffed. “Well, you just wait here while I get my shears. Ugly indeed,” she muttered, storming out of the room.

As painful a memory that it was, Calia was glad she had shared it with the housekeeper. Abelina’s reaction had warmed something deep inside her and she wondered if maybe that was how mothers were supposed to act.

Abelina returned with a calm face and sharp scissors. She examined Calia’s face closely, pulled strands of hair down to her shoulders and examined them. Finally she slid her fingers through the silver handles.

She must have seen the fear on Calia’s face because she paused. “Do not worry; I’ve always cut the women’s hair in the castle. It will be lovely.”

Calia nodded but then squeezed her eyes shut. The snip of the scissors seemed dangerously close to her ear and she winced. A heavy weight seemed to drop from her head with every cut. Abelina worked all the way around and finally was able to the pull the comb through her hair. But she kept snipping and adjusting, then settled on combing and styling. Calia kept her eyes closed as Abelina ran her fingers through her wet hair, slicking it down and pulling on the ends.

Finally she spoke. “I would have never guessed you had a little curl to your hair. Look.”

Mustering up her courage, Calia squinted one eye open then they both flew open in shock. She stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection showing her jaw dropping slowly. Her hair had been to her waist and was now just skimming her shoulders, but that wasn’t the most shocking change. Her hair was darker, almost a golden chestnut instead of a bleached out ugly blonde. The hair was shiny and, just as Abelina had said, it curled up slightly on the ends.

“How did you do that?” she finally managed to ask.

Abelina smiled. “I did not do that. I just cut off everything that was damaged. Your hair is still lighter than it will be after some seasons out of the sun but all the parts that were so light were dead. See how silky and shiny your hair is now? This is mostly the hair that has grown out since you’ve been here.”

Calia could only shake her head in wonder. She had been the ugly blonde, the one that did not fit it, for so long. And now she had lovely dark hair just like everyone else. It even made her skin not seem such a sun darkened color. She rubbed a hand over her cheek and smiled.

“You are losing your color from the sun as well. And with the weight you’ve put on since you’ve been here, you almost look a different girl.” Abelina turned Calia towards her. “But you were always beautiful, no matter what anyone said. I hope you believe that.”

Calia dabbed her leaky eyes and nodded. She did not believe it but she did feel like a new person and it felt wonderful. But not as wonderful as having someone finally treat her like a beloved daughter. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Abelina pinched her cheek. “You are welcome my dear. And might I suggest the sapphire gown?”

She left her to get ready and Calia stood uncertainly in the middle of her room. Finally she went into the bathroom to inspect all the ointments it had been stocked with. She washed her face a sweet smelling soap and rubbed on shimmery cream. She stood back and inspected her face. She certainly looked better than she ever had before but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to shock the king, make him realize… Her thoughts wandered off. Make him realize what? That she was pretty? Why on earth would she want that? She should want to be invisible to him.

But she spied a little compact of pale rose rouge and a tin of tinted lip gloss. She applied them lightly and smiled at herself in the mirror. She did look like a different girl.

In her room she pulled out the dark blue gown out and slid it on. It had fit well before but with the buttons done up and the dress adjusted, she could see where she had put on some weight and it suited her well. She spun in front of the mirror, feeling like a princess.

But her naïve joy did not last long. She wasn’t a princess, she was a servant. Her newfound beauty and perfection at serving her master was for his benefit only, to make him look good. She was still just a possession.

With a sigh Calia left her room to cross the hall but did not hesitate before knocking and presenting herself.

The king stood with his back to her. His hair was wet and slightly dampening the collar of his pristine shirt. Calia watched him as he fiddled with his cufflinks and felt her heart begin to thud. With his back to her, with his hateful mask hidden, he was nearly handsome. Whatever curse had frozen him had done so in the prime of his life. Even fully dressed she could see how strong he was.

“Help me with these,” he said and she jumped. She shook her head to clear away such disturbing thoughts before approaching him.

The king did not look up until she reached out for the jeweled cuff links. She watched through her lashes as his jaw slowly dropped and then ducked her head before he could see her smug satisfaction.

He said nothing while she fixed his shirt but stepped back when she was finished. “Turn,” he said, twirling his fingers in the air.

She spun for him and felt her cheeks begin to warm.

“Delightful!” he cried, clapping his hands together. She flushed warmer at his odd compliment.

“You know, I have sorely missed my last servant and her years of aptitude. But I must have forgotten how convenient it is to have a luscious servant to distract my enemies while they try to meet with me.”

The warmth in her cheeks cooled. She truly was nothing but a possession.

She looked up at her cold master and shuddered at the new mask covering his face. While this one was mostly covered in glinting diamonds as well, all around the eyes were blood red rubies. He looked like a rich, mad demon.

The Cold King smiled at her reaction. “You like it? It was what was in the box you brought up to me.”

Anger began to filter in but she kept her voice smooth. “That is what you would have killed me over if I had dared peek?”

The king cocked his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I would have killed you for not being trustworthy. Now tell me, do you like it?”

Calia took a little breath. “No. It’s frightful.”

The king laughed again. “Perfect! I must thank my craftsman for his new design.”

“Is that why you wear them? To frighten people? Then you needn’t wear it around me, I am quite frightened of you enough.” Calia snapped her mouth shut and inched back. She meant what she had said but regretted speaking the words.

The king regarded her for a moment before answering. “Why I wear my masks is my business alone. But I discovered long ago they were to my advantage when dealing with people. So yes, some of them are made to be frightening. And mask or no mask, you should be frightened of me. I am your king, not your little brother. You will not speak to me in such a way again.” His words were firm but lacked the cool anger she had come to expect from him.

“How did you become this way?” she whispered.

The king gave an exasperated sigh and threw his hands in the air. “All these months of training and good behavior and you are going to unravel on me now?” He turned from her to pick up his jacket. “Ah well, it always comes to this. You want to know what happened to me. Then I will tell you.”

Calia’s mind lurched into overdrive, wondering what his story would hold.

“Only,” he said, holding up a finger, “after you perform perfectly for my guests.”