Prologue
That one night Papa came stumbling home changed everything.
That was the night he smashed in Mama's head because there was no soup left in the pot. Full of rum and rage, he threw her against the fireplace bricks. Mother never moved again. Her shining eyes grew dim.
And then, she was gone.
Luchinda had screamed, and then her beautiful, trusting eyes went blank, as if she could unsee the violence. No matter how much I hugged my little sister, Luchinda never completely came back from that night.
Three days later, Papa rose out of his stupor of drink and anger, just enough to haul scrawny, weeping Luchinda out the door and up to the keep. That was five years ago.
I never even got to say goodbye. She would be almost eighteen now… not little anymore...
I never forgot that. One day, I will find Luchinda. I will.
I swore that vow with every plate, fork, bowl, knife, floor, counter, and article of clothing I washed. I swore that oath so often, the words ran underneath each of my breaths and every beat of my frozen heart.
Five years ago, I had stayed unwelcomed in my own home. Too afraid to run, too worried about the baby to bring our father’s rage to a direct confrontation, I had lost most of my heart, just existing in a home turned to horror. I spent another few months in the rot of my father’s addiction. But even family ties weren’t enough to keep me under that leaky roof when he brought his replacement wife home.
Clad in green silk, the new wife strode into the living room, the dyed feathers on her tiny hat sweeping the dust off of the tallest dresser. Her small eyes mirrored the shriveled bit of heart that still beat in the sneering woman’s chest.
I had curtsied and bowed my head as the strange woman strode into the house, our house, and took over everything. Within hours, the most precious memories of my childhood lay in the garbage pile in the backyard, burning. Even the baby, especially our baby was an inconvenience the new wife did not want. In the morning, my father nodded as Michelinn decided that Corinne would be sent to the wet nurse to live.
“And then, she’ll go directly to boarding school for weavers,” the horrid woman explained coldly as she waved away my tears.
Right then, I saw the world clear as a crystal bead. My choices would determine the hell I accepted. I decide. I choose what makes life worth living. Nothing was left of my childhood or any feeling of home.
I waited until nightfall, not a second more. Then, I bundled up Corinne, tucked the baby under my outer shawl. With that, I, Briar Rose Berwyn ran away.
Any place on earth was better than the cesspool and lies that slimed across those four walls.
That’s how I ended up a kitchen maid at the Three Golden Balls Inn and Establishment. And how Corinne ended up the cook’s assistant, peeling potatoes, carrots, and yams.
It wasn’t much of a life.
But it is mine, I thought. Ours. And at the tender age of twenty-two years, that was all I had claim to possess. The heart of one little girl was all the treasure I held in my calloused, worn hands.
Corinne’s trusting eyes and brilliant smile: they were the only warmth left in my heart, day after day of endless cleaning.
Chapter One
Cinders and Ashes
It was always winter in my heart.
A heart should be vibrant, beating, brimming with hope. Should be. Instead, locked inside my ribcage beat the coldest, most barren of places. Nothing would ever change that.
No one cared to try, ever since Mother died and my little sister Luchinda was heartlessly sold to the castle kitchens. Corinne was all that was left, the last precious bit of love rattling around in my empty heart. The baby needed me. Her darling little hands kept the tiniest spark alive in the wintry depths. All the same, it still hurt to breathe.
Gildingvale was the country where I was born, long ago. And if Mother had lived... it would have been my home: where I was raised, found love, and spent my life doing what everyone else does—being normal.
My life is only a prison now. A room with no doors or windows. A dreary life with no escape.
***
“Another,” I requested, hand held out, palm up.
I didn’t need to ask.
Corinne carefully handed me the next dirty cup.
Hundreds of dishes filled the counters and the sink. The feast that had filled the inn to capacity had gone on for days.
Groton, the loud, pompous innkeep burst with pride as he ordered more food from the farmers. “We’ll need another six swans, three deer, and a boar,” I heard him instruct the delivery wagons. “Another few days of this, and we will have expenses covered for a year.” His huge smile was real. It only turned sly when he caught me watching him.
“What you looking for, girl? You like what you see? I am about to be a wealthy man. You can smell the money, can’t you?”
Without warning, he grabbed me by the waist and spun me around. He planted a big, sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek, only missing my face because I turned my head.
Maybe in some land, that passed for dancing. I just tried to not fall or cut him with the paring knife I had been washing, still clutched in my hand.
My mouth opened in shock.
“Sir!” I exclaimed, taken aback. “I hope I didn’t give you the impress-”
“We’ve got big plans, don’t we?” he interrupted. Groton didn’t listen to my protests. With a rough twirl, he spun me back to the work table. Bestowing a crude wink towards my startled face, he looked right at Corinne and promised, “When I come back, I’ll bring you something sweet to suck on.” I shuddered, aghast at the man’s lewd stare at a seven year old girl. Then, without another word, Groton strolled out of the kitchen, humming off-tune.
“He’s not very bright, is he, Briar?” Corinne’s little ears and big eyes observed everything.
I snorted, “Sometimes, it’s the things they say that make the man.”
“And sometimes it’s the things they don’t,” my little sister spoke with a wisdom far beyond her years.
We looked at each other stone-faced before bursting into laughter at the horrid clumsiness of the innkeep. I wiped away tears on my cotton-covered shoulder as Corinne handed over another dish to be cleaned. The mountain was never ending, just like Groton’s wandering hands and his lingering stares at my chest when he thought I wasn’t aware. And more often lately, even when I noticed, the man felt inclined to stare at me. Inclined to have his way. To do what he wanted. His leer spoke more than the voices of a thousand teachers.
I steeled myself for the conversation that was coming.
The one in which I would have to firmly but politely say “NO!” loud enough for him to actually hear my rejection.
He didn’t see me as an equal so he didn’t hear my words as anything other than invitation. Yes or No from a servant girl always meant YES to a rich man.
“I’ll have to deal with that soon.”
“Don’t wait too long, Bri. He—the way he looks at you, scares me.” Corinne’s eyes kept wandering to the outside door, where Groton could be heard shouting with equal boorishness at merchants and Joe and Gant, the local farmyard help.
I washed another dirty dish and placed it gently in the wrack.
After the mountain of dishes finally rested, cleaned, and tidy in their places, I stretched my arms wide, relaxed for two seconds, and then grabbed the potatoes to go outside.
“Time for peeling, Cori,” I spoke cheerfully, choosing to be happy just to get outside the tedious work of kitchen assistant. Sunshine warmed my face as soon as I stepped outside, a bowl of potatoes on my hip.
The sun hung low in the brilliant blue sky, its rays blinding me for a moment as I emerged from the kitchen. Reflexively, I shielded my eyes from the direct sun’s rays with my arm. I blinked, waiting for my vision to adjust.
Out of nowhere, a shoulder hit me, knocking me down.