And the diplomats! Did they have no loyalty to their king? How could they join Halvar in his deceit? Were they afraid of him? Or did they perhaps try to rebel against the general’s plot and were replaced by letter-writers who would obey? Did the king meet with his ambassadors at all? I gritted my teeth. There was so much I still didn’t know.
I put everything back in its proper location and crept out of the office. There was still one more place I could look. I snuck into Torvald’s bedroom. If he woke to find me snooping, I could always use the excuse that I was making sure no one was lying in wait to slit his throat. Still, I moved carefully and soundlessly, all the while straining my ears for any movement coming from the hall. I checked under the table, behind the couches, around the potted plants, and even under the bed for any fake walls, loose floorboards, or levers. I came up empty handed yet again.
I paused for a moment to watch Torvald sleep. He seemed boyish, curled up under the colossal blankets, hair standing straight on end, face flushed from the fire roaring in the fireplace. Discouraged as I was over my lack of proof, there was also some measure of relief to know that I was working for a man who was truly in the dark about the general’s crimes. I no longer had to doubt his character or question his words.
I retreated to my bedroom, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. Dagmar sat on my bed in the dark, waiting for me. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. When I had recovered from my scare, I scowled at her. “What are you doing awake at this hour? Why are you here?”
“You ruined your evening gown,” she said through stiff lips. “You left your shoes in the foyer and, worst of all, you insulted the master! What have you to say for yourself?”
I sat in the plush chair that wasn’t already being occupied by scrolls, and bent to unlace my boots. “It was a rough night.”
Dagmar snorted. “Is that all?”
I tugged off a boot and tossed it aside. “I didn’t have time to remove my shoes and place them in a more proper place when the king was being fired upon. I needed to apprehend the attacker before he could make his escape. My attire tonight was not meant for running. May I suggest that you clothe me with a tear-away gown for the next meal?”
I could almost see the smoke coming out of Dagmar’s ears.
“I am your handmaiden, not your seamstress. If normal lady attire is inadequate for your profession, I suggest you talk to your seamstress immediately and specify your needs to her. And the next time you slay a human being like a sacrificial lamb, wear an apron!”
“I didn’t slay… Oh, never mind!” I tugged my second boot off, trying and failing to rein in my temper. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’m tired and still have a lot of work to do. I can’t apologize for circumstances that were out of my control. I did the best that I could. As for upsetting the king, understand that I didn’t intend to but he was treating me like a delicate flower, like a child. If I am to become the Defender he needs, I must suffer sleepless nights… Among other unpleasant things.”
Dagmar sighed deeply and rose from the bed. “Is there anything I can get you?”
I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you intend to stay up all night, I must as well,” she said, scowling. “Would you like something to eat?”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to—”
“Would you like something to eat?” she repeated, her voice cold as steel.
I decided not to fight her on this and simply nodded. Dagmar retreated, presumably to scrounge what she could from the kitchen. I sat on the floor beside the chairs and tea table, rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes, and unrolled the first scroll. My handmaiden returned a little while later with a platter of hot tea and dinner leftovers, and placed it on the table.
“Thank you,” I said. “Can I trouble you for some parchment and a quill?”
When Dagmar shook me awake, there was light in the room and not from the fire. “The master will be waking soon. You must meet him in the nook for breakfast.”
I had managed to fall asleep while sitting on the ground and leaning on the table. I yawned and stretched.
“Do you need assistance changing into suitable attire?” Dagmar asked.
I ran a hand over my face and peeked at my bed. “That depends. What did you pick out for me?” A cream-colored blouse and a long black skirt embroidered with a golden flower pattern had been laid over the blankets. My shiny new documentation plaque was there as well. I smiled. “I’ll manage.”
“All right then. I’ll just be fixing your hair before I retire,” my handmaiden said.
It took her five minutes to braid a small section of my hair, knead the rest of it into a bun, and twist the braid around the base of the bun, leaving only a few wisps of hair by my ears and the nape of my neck. Then she wished me a good morning and left the room. While it had been helpful to have her at my beck and call last night, I was glad she was finally going to rest. It appeared her job was going to be as grueling as mine.
Once changed into my ‘suitable’ clothes, I slipped into nicer shoes, put pearl earrings into my ears, slipped the plaque and its string over my head, and washed my face at the basin of water by my bed. I pressed the warm towel to my face and the back of my neck, mentally preparing myself for the day.
The pages Dagmar had found for me last night were half full of notes about the designs of the grounds and I still had to copy down the guards’ schedules. I didn’t know how I was going to remember everyone’s names short of reading the lists every night. But I couldn’t allow myself to be discouraged. It was only my second day on the job after all.
I shoved a dagger into my boot, carefully weaved a throwing knife into my bun, and strapped a long blade to my thigh before leaving my room. I caught a servant in the hall and asked him to send a message to Thora.
“If you could ask her to apply these alterations to all of my gowns, I would appreciate it,” I added, handing him a folded piece of paper on which I’d drawn an example of my request. “And here.” I gave him the coin purse with what was left of my allowance. “Give her this for her trouble. Thank her for me as well.”
The servant bowed and left to do as I asked.
I walked around the staircase toward the front door, having spotted the archway leading to the nook when I trudged in last night. It was subtle, almost hidden. A cushioned bench curved along the circumference of the room and a mahogany table sat at its center. There was a blue vase on the table with white and yellow flowers. The tall, rectangular windows were adorned with cream and yellow drapes. There was a secondary door across from the circular room where servants hurried in and out with food and drink. I smelled ham, eggs, buttered toast, jam, oatmeal, assorted fruit, and three different kinds of juice.
King Torvald sat among his cushions, holding a cup of juice with one hand and turning the page of a novel with the other. The book was propped open by a wooden stand a safe distance away from the food.
He was different without his crown. Humble though it was, the crown still held power. He could pass as an ordinary gentleman enjoying an early breakfast alone if it weren’t for the number of servants he had, the fine china he ate from, and the crimson velvet waistcoat he wore over his shirt.
The king looked up as if finally sensing my presence and then stood. “Good morning, Lady Isa.”
I dipped into a curtsey. “Your Majesty.”
He gestured to the bench across from him. “Please, sit.”
No sooner had my bottom settled onto the cushion than my empty plate was replaced by one full of food. Juice was poured into my goblet. I blinked and the servants were gone. Torvald sat, carefully pushing the book and its stand aside.