“That is because you have not picked up the pieces of their hearts for them. I promise you, it’s much like this.” She casts a hand over the bits on the floor. “I have seen more than one young woman fall victim to foolishness, caught up in a crown. Look at Sabrina! She was his tributary for mere weeks and already fawning over him.”
“She was,” I admit.
“And the moment she was no longer of use, he cast her into the dungeon.”
“That is different, Corrin, you know that. And he didn’t execute her.” He couldn’t bring himself to punish her for serving him. He told me so.
Corrin harrumphs as if that’s not proof of anything. “The royal family’s tributaries are highly sought-after positions. The mortals who serve can do so for decades if they prove their loyalty and form a bond. I assure you, Sabrina had lofty dreams about her life. I’m sure she dreamed of being his only tributary.” She snorts. “And what kind of life do you think she’ll dream of now, wearing that mark and playing the baker’s nursemaid?”
As if mentioning her name summons her, Sabrina strolls into the kitchen with Lilou in her arms, Mika trailing beside. Her mark glows like a beacon, and people step back and steal wary glances, as if they can catch her disease.
She lifts her chin to feign bravery as she makes her way to me. “Suri is fast asleep, and these two wish to say good night.”
I climb to my feet. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Dagnar put a pallet in the corner of the room for me. It’s a bit cramped in there. I hope you don’t mind that they’ve put me with you.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Though she might. Her new home is a far cry from her tributary quarters.
Her demeanor is subdued as compared to the Sabrina of the past. Maybe she needs a good night’s sleep after spending days awaiting a noose. Or maybe Corrin is right and her heart was left in pieces on the dungeon floor.
“Thank you, Sabrina.”
She nods solemnly and smiles, but I see the sadness where earlier, tears of appreciation masked it.
I give my kids each a kiss. “Good night, my loves. You be good.”
“Why can’t my mark glow like Sabrina’s?” Mika exclaims, holding up his hand.
Sabrina and I share a wide-eyed look before she swiftly escorts him out. “You do not want it to, Mika, trust me …” she hisses as they vanish out the door.
Corrin sighs and climbs to her feet, the last of my mess collected. “That was kind of His Highness to spare Sabrina’s life,” she admits begrudgingly.
“Yes, it was.” But I already know he can be kind. “Is it true what they’re saying? That the king has arrested the eastern noblemen?”
“From what sparse things I’ve heard, it seems to be.”
“How will Kettling react?” I’ve never been to the city in the east, but I’ve heard plenty about it. Most of it unpleasant. Rumors that they don’t honor Presenting Day traditions or the law. They barter in children as readily as adults.
“It depends when they hear about it. The gate is sealed, and no messengers can pass through to carry the news.”
“That was shrewd.”
“His Highness is not foolish when it comes to battle, and I would wager he has launched himself into one intentionally. What the fallout might be, I suppose we will soon learn.”
Motion at the door catches my eye. Kazimir strolls in, towering over everyone in all his leather and weaponry. He moves for the counter of leftovers. The scullery staff scoot away from him as he reaches for a cake and stuffs it into his mouth. In a covert move that is not so covert, he meets my gaze, jerks his head toward the door, and then strolls out.
“I think I have been beckoned.” My heart stirs with a mixture of excitement and worry as I brush my floured hands against my apron and unfasten it. Is this good or bad?
“Yes. It would seem so.”
I make to move, but Corrin grabs my wrist.
“Please be careful. The king may have stifled some of his enemies, but I am sure there are plenty more still loose within Cirilea’s walls. Those nearest him will be the first targets.”
I nod, tossing my apron on my table.
Kazimir waits outside the kitchen door, chewing.
“You can’t pass by a platter of sweets without eating one, can you?” I tease.
He swallows his mouthful and throws back, “You can’t go a day without flour on your cheek, can you?”
“A hazard of the job.” I brush my palms across them, my face flushing.