A Ghost in the House of Iron

Chapter Fourteen

SINDRED

I stumble through the palace kitchens in the near dark, trying not to knock into anything and cause a clatter. The cooks who are still puttering about at this hour don't look up from their work. It's the middle of the night. Bianca's room is basically a closet, set behind the biggest kitchen fireplace. There are extra pots and platters stacked beside her small mattress on the soot-streaked floor, a row of old brooms leaning against the wall. But she's hung a brightly dyed cloth from the low ceiling, draping it down over her sleeping area like a tent, and the heat from the fireplace permeates the small space. Somehow, it feels like the most luxurious room in the palace.

She wakes up when I open the door. I hear blankets rustle and can just make out the movement of her sitting up in the deep shadows of her little cave.

“Sindred?”

I'm standing there with one hand on the door handle, leaning against it. A sob catches in my throat.

In seconds, Bee is there, supporting my slumped body against hers, making soothing sounds as she leads me over to the mattress.

Bee runs her fingers down my face, places her cool palms against the heat of my cheeks. “Oh, sweetling, what happened?” she asks, gently pushing wet strands of hair away from my eyes.

My tears soak into her nightdress. I want to cling to her, but my arms are curled tightly around my own body and I can't seem to let go.

“Shh, shhh, it's alright. You don't have to tell me. Just rest. Lay here. I've got you.”

Hours or moments later, I wake out of a half-sleep with a lurch, like someone just gave me a sharp kick. My heart races at first, wondering where I am and how I got there, but then I smell the musty, slightly burnt smell of Bee's cozy sanctuary and my tension slowly starts to melt away.

“I'm afraid, Bee,” I whisper. “Of this 'gift’ I have. This curse. I'm so afraid.”

For a second I think she's asleep. I begin to hope she is. Then she asks, “Did someone hurt you?” I can tell she has a million other questions.

“No. Well.” I pull in a shaky breath. I don't want to think about what happened in that room, his veiny old hands against my skin, that desperate look he fixed on me. I feel more tears slip out of the corners of my eyes.

“Sindred,” Bee says. Nothing else, just my name. She is my closest friend. My only friend. And I never cry.

“You can't tell anyone, Bee. Not even Ezebel. Please, Bee. Don't even say I was here. Don't tell them I… I'm…"

“I would never,” Bee says firmly, and I suddenly feel guilty for my words, for not simply trusting her. Or at least making her believe I do.

“Gregorius Bertrand.” I swallow, do my best to steady my voice. “The Master of Coin.”

“Yes, I know him,” she says. A question hangs at the end of the statement.

“I was told to find out whether he… It's complicated. But Ezebel, and I suppose the king, need to know exactly what his relationship is to the church. Who his loyalties lie with. What his ambitions are. Where his money goes. I was told to go to him in his room, because… because I'm… I match the age of the girls he often seeks out, and I can use that to try and find out information. I've done things like that before, with others. But I always…”

I stop and focus on my breath, my heartbeat that seems so loud it must be filling the tiny space.

Then I try again. “He wasn't talking. He just kept snapping demeaning things while I knelt beside him, pouring more wine as he drank and drank. I knew I could make him open up to me. I could change him. It would just take a push. So simple. And he'd stop sneering at me, stop looming over me like a bird of prey. I'd be in control. I would get what I needed and… and get out.”