The Real Cinderella - S. G. Ricketts (english reading book .TXT) 📗

girl, but I’ll wager you’re closer to thirty myself.” I blanched. Martha saw the change and grew serious. “Come now, girl. I’ve dressed yer lashes for the past sevenday. Do ye really think I wouldn’t have seen yer secret?”

My fingers drifted to the bandages around my chest. “Oh...the other scars...”

Martha pursed her lips and frowned. I stared into my cup, incredibly uncomfortable. No one save Liza knew my real age. But, no one save Liza had ever had to patch me back together. “I don’t plan on telling him, if’n that’s what yer worried about. It’s none of my business what ye did to survive back in yer old place.” I didn’t lift my eyes, ashamed. A maid over seventeen was expected to marry, regardless of desire. My desires being what they were, I had played up every aspect of my youth. I rubbed my thumb against the layers of glaze.. In her eyes, I was a spinster, too old to marry now if she had so closely guessed my real age. I kept my fingers from reaching for the hidden wrapping scars. Martha sighed and patted my hand. “Like I was saying, yer safe here. If’n ye weren’t, Liam wouldn’t’ve brought ye here. Strange as he might be, he isn’t a fool. Ye can stay a maid if’n ye wish it.”

I didn’t meet her eyes as I slipped a cookie off the tray. The tea swirled around it as I dipped and thought. She sat quietly, sipping her drink. The silence stretched. Sighing, I sat back. “I’m not a maid, and I suppose it doesn’t much matter now. Slaves don’t have the freedom of marrying, do they?” Martha remained emotionless, merely dipping her cookie and eating it. I bit into my own soggy cookie, savoring the nutmeg and cinnamon for a moment. “I’m twenty-six as of last month.”

“Ha!” I jumped at her shout. “I knew it! Ye have the scars of someone who’s been alive for more’n a few years of beating, not to mention the wrapping scars.” She tapped her nose again, chewing thoughtfully. “Of course, yer new lord already knows.” She spent another few minutes beating the tea out of my lungs. “‘Twas a joint effort, cleaning all that muck off of ye. We must have scrubbed for nearly an hour, and went through a good few tubs full of water. Don’t know as I like the way ye slaves are kept, if’n that’s how all of ye are kept.”

“Only those headed for slaughter.” I pushed Patty’s face from my mind as well as the knowledge that Liam had seen...everything. At least there would be no pretenses or surprises with his new purchase. I finished my tea and set it gently in its saucer, turning the handle to face me. My fingers lingered on it a moment before I dropped them in my lap. “I don’t belong here, Martha. Look at me. I can’t even build decent bricks. How does he expect me to help him?” I twisted my fingers together, hating their stained color. “Everyone will know what I am. How will that do anything for either of us?”

Her chubby hand settled over mine and I looked up, wiping a renegade tear from my cheek. “Liam’s thought of that, girl. He’s not such a cruel master as to humiliate you, nor such a fool as to allow for ridicule to his household. Gloves are being made for ye.” I stared back at my hands. He’d made me gloves. I, the trouble slave he’d paid too much for, was being made gloves. She squeezed my hands and stood, beginning to clear the tea. “And I know ye can read. And do yer basic sums, correct?” I nodded, tracing the lines on my hands. Perhaps Martha had suggested it. Or perhaps Liam really was a good master. Either way, I was grateful. “Now then, girl, that brings us to another matter. I’m not such a fool as to believe ye were sold into this life. Who is Liza and where do she go?”

“How do you know that name?” I gasped and covered my mouth. No one could know about Liza. If anyone knew what I’d done to her, they’d hate me. And it was too much to think about just now. Martha propped a hand on her hip and stared me down. “I spoke while I was sick, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a guess.

The woman shrugged and returned to her clearing. She tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders and tapped her chest. “Aye, girl. ye kep saying, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Makes one wonder what ye’re so sorry for.” I must have looked horrified. She shook her head, disappointed. “Do ye take me for a fool, girl? Liam was already on the verge of selling ye back or giving ye away. No, I kept ye well-dosed for his visits.” His surprise earlier was explained then. “But, one can’t stay on those kinds of herbs for long.” She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “And ye are a talker. Oft had to gag ye to keep ye from alerting the neighbors to yer special presence.”

“Alerting? Do they not know you’re a healer?” The thought of witch crossed my mind but I emphatically squashed it. If Martha was a witch, she’d done a fine job in magicking me back to health. Who was I to complain?

“Oh, they know. Been in here oft enough that every single one of them owes me his life. But, faced with Lord Aaron and his men, they’ll choose their own hide any day over mine.”

I shivered, remembering that awful feeling as he’d stared at me. It was like having Death crawl across my skin. I pulled the sheet higher. “Will he find me?”

She shook her head and stepped into the hall. “By the Queen’s own protection, no. I’ve kept ye fairly quiet and they’ve all been a little off in the head lately anyways.” She winked. “Never cross your healer, girl. Now just stay put while I get these put away. Although I don’t right know where she’d get to, Matha Smith. I’ll be darned, the things ye say,” she muttered, bustling out of my line of sight.

I smiled, somewhat relieved and partly shocked. No wonder my lord had brought me here. For all her pleasant exterior, Martha was quite fearsome in her own way. I took the brief moment of silence to take stock of my surroundings. The sun slanted through two good-sized windows and I could just make out what must have been a little alley. A chilly breeze blew through them, but the fresh air felt good on my face. I pulled the sheets higher and settled back.

Her neighbor’s laundry fluttered brightly outside, flipping in the wind and brightening the drab brown bricks. From the East, to be sure. Inferior work. I grinned, knowing it was a silly thought. In the room itself sat my bed, a small circular table, and two chairs. One sat near the fire and the other sat beside me. Both were the only interesting things in the room, carved in intricate detail to mimic a rose garden. I followed the stems and thorns as they curled around the chairs. Now that I was in Cardeas, perhaps I’d get to see the real thing.

The table held a pile of fresh bandages on one side, a shock of white against the dark grain, and my hand drifted to my bandages. One week. I shifted experimentally and felt no pain, only a tightness and slight tenderness. Relieved, I let my hand drop. I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer, though. The thought was one I’d tried to avoid all afternoon, from the moment I woke up. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream and I was just a servant. Yet another silly thought...

I took a deep breath, grateful for my solitude. Carefully, I unwrapped the bandage from my hip. The cloth pulled off much easier than I had expected, the brand slathered in some kind of ointment. It was uglier, though, a dark crusty mass against the crispness of the sheets. I traced the burn gently, the triangle of the Three containing the combined R-Z of a Royal of Zyonn. I was owned. The scabs gave slightly under my pressure and I winced at the little pinch of pain. It wasn’t a dream. I was no longer free. As a builder, I’d virtually been a slave, but I’d still been paid for my work. I still worked for myself and spoke for myself. I traced the brand again, completely lost.

I could see his face in my mind. Overall, he seemed fairly nice. Still, that first night he might have only saved me because I’d cost so much. And I wasn’t sure I believed Martha. If he wasn’t crazy, my lord Liam was arrogant. To think I would be his maid servant! I bit my lip, remembering the strength in his arms as he carried me. I’d seen too many men who used that strength to their advantage. I shoved the thought of Liza away, unable to bear the guilt. Thank the King Liam had the boy to do all the dirty work. I wrapped the brand up again and sat back to think. Challenging an idea so ingrained as a manservant for a prince and a lady in waiting for a princess was not something anyone could do. Was he a favorite in the family, that he could bend the rules? The third or fourth son, I could understand, but he was the thirteenth. I frowned, thoroughly confused. if life wasn’t hard enough already with an arrogant younger son or a brand on my skin, I’d have to deal with the scorn of all the other slaves. Not that I was afraid of it, but it would be more than difficult. Perhaps Liam would reconsider, considering the consequences. I tapped my lip, trying to think of a way to broach the subject. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I snorted. “Five royes or not, this is a stupid decision. At least I get gloves.”

“Snorting is hardly lady-like.” My hostess had returned.

I grinned at her mothering tone. Martha glared at me in mock reproval, dumping her load of firewood on the fire. “Didn’t you hear, Mistress Martha? I’m a man in all but the necessary parts now.”

“Oh aye, girl, ye are that ‘n more,” she laughed. The fire hissed with her poking. She stood, still chuckling, and closed the shutters. “That ‘n more...” She settled heavily in the chair and laid out her tools for bandaging. As I sat up she winked at me. “Didn’t ye know, women already are men. We’ve just got the better parts.” She pursed her lips and smoothed her skirts, matter-of-fact. I grinned. “We don’t get stupid when ours wake up.”
Chapter 6

“Here.” Martha dumped a load of clothes on my bed. I wrinkled me nose but didn’t look over. The quill scratched against the parchment, letters curling and