Wrought of Iron and Silk, Book One [2014 Watty Award Winner]

Chapter 5 - Brokk and Eiti

Chapter 5 – Brokk and Eiti

Cecilia's eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. She'd lain awake listening to every creak outside in the hall and wishing there were a way to lock their bedroom door. She thought of sleep, of how good sleep would be, and the thought caused her to close her eyes, but only for a moment.

As if by magic, she awakened with fire around her, sensing herself rising from her bed until she was suspended against the ceiling, swirling around with the smoke in a boneless body. Gradually, she recalled being revived by neighbors bringing water to her face with the palms of their hands, and hearing their hysterical cries coming as loud as the sirens of fire trucks and police cars. She saw the bright colors of flames playing leapfrog across the roof ridge of her home.

Unable to move, she heard again, Mama, Mama. The words were screamed – her screams. Burned, they had said of her mother - the crinkled skin of burn-scars on the right side of her face, neck and disfigured ear.

She remembered the sickness of terror.

The red haze became a blanket as the moments leaped in time, becoming enveloped in a sea of emerald green. She fixed her eyes on the burning home and saw a dark figure, rather isolated, coming slowly toward her. At first, she could only see that there was color distinguishing the figure from the smoke. Gradually, as it neared her, the shape took on human form. Then she could see it was a man.

It was Loki.

He smiled, there seemed to be gentleness about him. She was about to say "Hello" and reach out to touch him when suddenly a frosty chill came over her. She pulled back.

Loki drifted with her, never crowding her, but also never backing off.

I see what you see. The words came to her in a subdued whisper.

Then, there was only smoke around her. She was alone again, silently listening to the crackling of fire.

In the morning, Cecilia pushed away thoughts of her dream as she hurriedly slipped on her black dress before going off to find the kitchen. She made several wrong turns before she found the kitchen stairway in the back of the palace. The large room teemed with activity as kitchen maids scurried around. The woman in black stood in the center of the chaos, directing the efforts with a soft voice undergirded with steel. Not a wisp of red hair had dared escape her pins.

Cecilia stepped closer. "Ma'am?"

The matron looked up. "There you are, Cecilia. I believe introductions are in order. I'm Runa. Gyra has offered to take over your shift tending to Ambassador Lios-Alf so you can learn the ropes here in the kitchen." She pointed to the large wooden worktable.

"I'm happy to do whatever you want. I'm to go see Lady Hadda this morning after breakfast. Her maid is ill and she wants me to help her with her hair," Cecilia said, looking away.

The woman's face went blank. "She told me. What did you do to merit such a request?"

"Nothing, ma'am. She looked me over last night and asked who made my dress. I made it myself. The next thing I knew, she was ordering me to help her this morning."

"I won't have a maid who is scheming behind my back," the woman pursed her lips. "Did you come here hoping to work your way out of servitude?"

Cecilia held the woman's gaze. "I came here expecting lots of things. I only wish to be of service to the King and earn my living. I'm unfamiliar with what a lady's maid even does."

Slowly, Runa's eyes softened. "Very well. I'll accept your story, for now. There's nothing wrong with working your way up in the world, but I don't like conspirators."