Page 31 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Mother above,” Wilson whispers as he takes in Grayson’s words, his eyes widening when he realises the implications. I don’t understand, my frown deepening as I look between them.

“What does this mean?” I demand, losing patience as they stare at me with wide eyes. Grayson seems to realise that he’s scaring me and tones down some of the awe, his face spreading into a wide grin.

“This is the reason the Great Mother sent you to me.” Leaning forward, he reaches out a hand and cups my cheek, a look resembling pride shining in his eyes. “You could help us win the war.”

Sleep escapes me once again as I wake up in a cold sweat for the tenth time tonight. Dreams of booted feet kicking my body, all to the beat of a hammer and anvil, and the lilted laugh of an elf tormenting me as I beg for a mercy that never came.

Pushing the light sheet off my body, I swing my legs around as I sit on the edge of the mattress. When I’d gotten ready for bed, I’d noticed the heavy blankets, but knew I couldn’t sleep with all that extra weight, too used to sleeping only under a scrap of fabric despite the cold winter chill that seemed to plague us in the slave quarters. So, to make me feel more comfortable, Jayne had found a lighter sheet I could use. Despite that, the fact the mattress was so soft and felt as if it was swallowing me, I found myself tossing and turning all night.

I can see light creeping through the window at the far end of the room, so it can’t be long until Jayne will come in to wake me. However, it’s still too early for me to be up, and, as I glance at the twisted bedding adorning my plush mattress, I shudder. I’m stillexhausted from yesterday’s labour, even after Grayson healed my injuries, but I can’t find rest here.

Standing up, I turn and grab the sheets and one of the many pillows that adorn the bed. I carry my load over to the rug in front of the unlit fireplace in my room and kneel to construct a makeshift bed. After folding one sheet on the ground and placing the pillow on one end, I lie down and pull the final sheet over myself. Instantly I feel better, more settled, like some part of me felt as if it didn’t belong in the huge, luxurious bed, especially while hundreds of children are enslaved and sleeping on rough stone floors.

I’m not sure how long I’m down there for, but I must have fallen asleep because when I next open my eyes, I see Jayne frowning down at me. And there’s light streaming in through the now open curtains.

“Why are you on the floor?” She sounds more confused than frustrated, but I can tell she’s angry, so I push myself into a sitting position, my cheeks going pink as I glance over to the bed. I was hoping to put the bed back together again before she came into the room, I didn’t want her thinking I’m ungrateful, but she caught me before I had the chance. “Is there something wrong with the bed?”

“No, it’s just…too soft, I feel like I’m sinking into it,” I hurriedly explain, waiting for her to snap, to discipline me for wasting a perfectly good bed, or making the sheets dirty for putting them on the floor. She crosses her arms as she watches me squirm, not saying a word as I quickly work at gathering up the sheets, wincing when I see smudges of dirt.

“Why do you look like you’re waiting for me to hit you?”

Avoiding her gaze, I place the pillow on the bed, brushing off any filth and dust that I find. “I made the sheets dirty…”

“I don’t care about the sheets.” Glancing over my shoulder, I see her watching me intently. I try to look for any signs ofdeception, to see if she’s lying, but why would she lie about sheets? She’s never hurt me or given me a reason not to trust her before.

“But you looked angry when you saw me on the floor.”

“I’m angry because you looked so at home sleeping on the floor. No child should be comfortable sleeping on the floor...” She looks like she wants to say more, but she bites her lip, looking away for a second before turning back to me. “I’m angry at the situation, not the sheets, I promise.”

Watching the older woman carefully, I hand over the sheets clutched to my chest as she holds out her arms for them. She’s said similar things before, hints that she doesn’t agree with having slaves, and I’m sure that Mary’s public punishment is still bright in her mind. Perhaps there are more people out there that share her feelings, if they stood together and… No, the king would never allow it, they would be silenced before they could even utter a word. Jayne is quiet under my watchful gaze, simply depositing the old, dirty sheets, and pulling out a new set from a chest of drawers in the corner of the room. Eventually, she looks up, seeing me standing there awkwardly with nothing to do. She takes pity on me, her stern expression softening into a gentle smile as she gestures towards the bathroom.

“Go wash up, I’ll help you dress when you’re ready. Grayson is waiting in the dining room for you.” Nodding gratefully, I hurry into the bathroom and run the bath, my mind thinking over the dream that was still plaguing my thoughts.

Now bathed and clothed in a rich blue day dress, I head towards the dining room, pausing outside the door to clear my mind. Brushing my hand down the front of the dress, I marvel again at the softness of the fabric. The floor-length dress is another variation of the deep blue the magicians wear, with a front panelthat runs from waist to floor, which is embroidered with the Great Mother’s symbol in golden thread. The top of the dress is fashioned to imply I have a cleavage, whilst still managing to cover most of it. A lace panel that extends from the neckline and forms a high collar hides the fact that my collarbone sticks out. The matching lace sleeves with wide cuffs must be custom made, as they effectively hide my slave marks while still showing off my Goddess mark.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the doors and walk into the dining room, my eyes cast down until I remember the role I’m supposed to be playing. Raising my head and meeting Grayson’s gaze is harder than it should be, but he simply smiles and nods in approval.

“Good morning, Clarissa.” His voice is deeper than usual this morning, almost husky, like I’m the first person he’s spoken to today, and for some reason that makes me feel warm inside. “You’re looking lovely today.” My cheeks glow with a blush, my whole body feeling even warmer now as I’m tinged with embarrassment and pride at his compliment. He gestures for me to sit, so I walk up to the large dining table, taking the seat opposite him. The table is full of food, more than we could possibly eat, but I notice there is far less than the day before, which pleases me. When people are starving it seems grotesque to have that much food go to waste. Reaching toward a large metal pot, I scoop a ladle of porridge into my bowl—one of the only things I recognise and feel familiar with. A glass jar with a golden liquid catches my eye, the sweet smell making my mouth water.

“Try it.” Caught out, I look up at the mage, who’s watching me with a half smile, sipping at his cup of bitter coffee that he seems to like so much. Reaching out, I pick up the glass, noting the way the liquid moves. It’s thick, more like a syrup than ajuice like I thought it was. Lifting it to my nose, I inhale the sweet, slightly woodsy smell.

“What is it?”

“Honey. It’s nice, sweet.” At his assurance I reach for a spoon and scoop a small amount into my porridge, stirring it in. I’m acutely aware of his stare as I lift the spoon to my lips and let out a small surprised noise. He’s right, itisnice. Reaching forward, I grab the jar again, pouring a large portion into my breakfast. Ignoring the chuckling magician, I eagerly mix the honey into the porridge, almost closing my eyes in bliss as the flavours burst on my tongue. It’s rich, and after a few spoonfuls, I have to slow down, my stomach protesting after years of gruel and stale bread. As I reach for my glass of water, I feel a sticky wave of magic wash over me, and when I glance up, I see out of the corner of my eye that my hair is blonde again.

“I’m not working for the priests today?” When Jayne had dressed me in a gown this fine, I’d assumed that was the case, but I hadn’t dare hope.

“No.” His face darkens, and I have to fight the urge to look away, to cast my eyes downward, but this is Grayson, I need to get used to keeping eye contact if I’m to masquerade as a lady. Grayson puts down his coffee cup and leans back in his chair as he contemplates me. “I spoke with Priest Rodrick and we have come to an agreement. You get today off and will return tomorrow.”

A mixture of relief and dread war within me. The thought of having a day’s reprieve from the priests is one that makes me want to fall to my knees and thank the Mother. Returning tomorrow, whilst not surprising, makes my stomach twist with nerves. Grayson suddenly leans forward, reaching his hand across the table as if he was going to hold mine, to comfort me. “I have reiterated that you are no longer a slave and shouldn’t be treated as such.” He knows as well as I do that the priests,especially Rodrick, don’t give a damn. To them I will always be Slave 625. Burying those thoughts, I idly stir my porridge.

“What am I required to do today?”

Smiling at my question, Grayson shrugs his shoulders. “You aren’t required to do anything. I have to attend some meetings, so you have free time to do as you wish.”

“Oh.” Blinking, I lean back in my chair. Free time...to do whatever I wish...a concept I’ve never thought of before.

We finish up our breakfast, with Grayson making an awkward attempt at small talk with me which just makes us both cringe, before he heads out to his meetings. Standing up, I slowly walk through Grayson’s rooms, contemplating what I could do with my free time when a shaft of sunlight lands on me from one of the arched windows. Lifting my hand, I examine it under the sunshine, enjoying the gentle heat that warms it. It still looks the same, faint pale scars marring the skin, but yet I feel like I’m seeing it in a whole new light. Turning to face the window, I gaze out and enjoy the view.

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