Page 13 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“You look so much better now,” he murmurs, his blue eyes sparkling as he stops a step away from me. I try to bury the amusement that comes from his awful compliment, but when Jayne snorts I can’t hide it anymore, and a startled laugh escapes me.

“Oh, Mother. I give up,” the maid grouses with a huff, throwing her hands up in exasperation, but there’s affection in her tone.

“Sorry.” He winces, and his apology leaves me dumbfounded, the absurdity of the situation shocking me yet again.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” Pulling at the metal cuffs on my wrists, I twist them off, the scars and tattoos marking me for what I am on full display. A hand reaches out and captures my wrist, and I turn my head away, not wanting to see the magician’s expression.

“I thought we’d spoken about this. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he assures me, and again it’s like he can read my thoughts. This entire situation feels wrong. It’s like I’m in a dream being pampered while the other slaves continue to suffer. My traitorous heart so desperately wants this to be real, but my brain has learned not to believe things that are too good to be true. “The Goddess has blessed you. She stopped your death by sending me the vision of you.” Grayson lets go of my wrist and reaches for my chin, gently guiding my face towards him, notstopping when I flinch from the contact. “You need to believe this. Your old life is gone, you’re no longer Slave 625.”

“Then who am I?” The words sound weak and lost. I wish I sounded more confident, but that’s exactly how I feel—lost.

“She’s right, Grayson, she needs a name,” Jayne speaks up, and I don’t miss the concerned frown she tries to hide as I meet her gaze.

“Do you remember your old name?” Voice soft, Grayson brings my attention back to him. I shake my head and he looks thoughtful, pacing the silent room as he thinks. He’d called me Opal earlier, will this be what he calls me now?

Suddenly coming to a stop, he spins and runs his eyes over me before nodding to himself. “You are Clarissa, a family friend who I’ve known for years. You’ve come to the capital to learn more about court and the kingdom. You will be staying here and attending events with me, and during the day you’ll be working with the maids.” He frowns at this part and sighs with resignation. “I need to keep you close, and the only way the priest will allow this is if you’re still working.”

He can’t be serious. “Won’t people think it’s strange that a lady is working as a maid during the day?” There is no way they will buy this whole act if I’m seen mopping floors, and I’m not surprised the priest wants to keep me working. This will go against everything he preaches, that the only mercy for a slave, an enemy of the kingdom, is death.

“They won’t notice. The upper class rarely pays attention to anyone but themselves or those they’re trying to impress.” That I can believe, but I’m not so sure the other maids and servants will be the same. I’ve seen how quick they are to gossip and speculate.

“The maids will notice,” Jayne comments, and as I glance over, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am.

“Hmm, you might be right. Besides, that hair is pretty different…” As he trails off, I self-consciously raise my hand to my dark hair. It’s always made me stand out. One year, when the beatings had become too much, I tried to hack it off with a broken piece of glass, desperate to be rid of it. It hadn’t worked, I was stopped before I could do much more than the first few cuts, but when I saw my reflection in a pool of water, I sobbed. It had felt like I was losing a part of myself, my heritage that I knew nothing about. I haven’t touched it again since, so it hangs halfway down my back.

The thick, syrupy feeling of magic fills the air again and pulls me out of my deep thoughts. Glancing up, I look straight to the source of the magic, seeing a smug expression on Grayson’s face as he finishes a complex gesture with his hands. Opening my mouth to ask what he just did, I stop at Jayne’s shocked gasp, and I whirl around to see what caused her reaction when golden curls fly into my vision.

Wait.Reaching up and grabbing a handful of my hair, I see it’s no longer the dark and wavy locks I’m used to, but bright, golden ringlets. It’s my turn to gasp as I look over at Grayson, trying to hide the shock and outrage that’s running through my bloodstream. I don’t know why I’m so angry that he’s changed my hair, but it feelswrongon a soul deep level.

“What?” he asks, throwing his hands up as if to defend himself, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at Jayne who’s giving him a death glare.

“Will you stop throwing that stuff around? It’s a Goddess given gift and you use it like it’s going out of fashion. Besides, you should ask a lady before you change her hair, it’s rude. I’ve taught you better than that,” she admonishes, and I can’t help the small smile that pulls up my lips despite my outrage.

“She’s Goddess blessed! That’s why we’re having this whole conversation!” he argues, frustrated, and I realise that althoughthey may not be related by blood, Jayne is a mother to Grayson is every way that’s important. “Besides, it’s not permanent. It will only be blonde for events where you’re acting as a lady, when you’re a maid it will be back to normal.”

Frowning, I reach up to touch the unfamiliar curls. They evenfeeldifferent, the sticky, heavy presence of magic coating my hair. “You think this will be enough?”

“I have to admit, I wouldn’t recognise you. Take a look yourself,” Jayne professes, and guides me towards a wall mirror by the doorway. A shocked gasp escapes me as I see the elegant woman before me. I’m taken aback by the dress again as it frames my body, accentuating what shape I have and hiding what years of living on scraps has done to my body. Although it’s my hair that shocks me the most. I hadn’t been prepared for what I saw before me. Light blonde curls, similar to Grayson’s, frame my face in a way that makes me look so different.

I look like a lady. I must say this out loud, since Jayne snorts at the same time Grayson steps up behind me, a half a smile pulling at his lips.

“Well, that was the point,” he says, before offering me his arm. “Right, Lady Clarissa, we have a ceremony to attend and we’re running late.”

The walk to the chapel is short, but every step closer feels like lead. Without the chains around my ankles my steps should be light, but I’m so used to walking with them that my whole gait feels wrong…off. Never thought I would miss my chains. It’s almost like I’ve had them for so long that without them I’m missing a part of me.

The weight of all the eyes on me feels like it’s going to drag me down. Blending in and going unseen is what has kept me alive for this long, but now I’m receiving all this attention and my whole body screaming at me torun, tohide. They’re going to see through the magic and the pretty dress to the dirty slave beneath. Mercifully, Jayne selected a pair of flat shoes for me to wear, but when you’re used to walking barefoot, shoes just feel restrictive. The skin on my ankles is raw from my chains and were carefully dressed by Jayne before soft stockings were rolled up my legs. Wringing my hands, I can’t help but fiddle with the metal cuffs circling my wrists and hiding my marks, making sure they’re still firmly in place.

“Stop fretting. I can practically feel you rejecting the magic, it’s making my skin itch,” Grayson reproaches gently, as he links his arm with mine, pulling me closer to him.

Startled, I stop playing with the cuff and glance up at him in shock before looking down at our linked arms. Physical touch is something I learned to hate and fear. The guards’ faces would always twist into disgust if they ever had to touch us, but Grayson’s expression is impassive as he rubs small, soothing circles into my palm. I don’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed by his touch, but I do find something about him soothing. Since we left his rooms, something about him changed. He stands straighter and his face has fallen into a careful mask, devoid of any emotion. We continue to walk in silence, but I play over his last words, something about them bugging me.

“Is it possible to reject your magic?” I’ve never heard of anyone doing it before, but my education is sorely lacking, especially where magic is concerned.

“It shouldn’t be, unless you had your own magic.” His voice is low to avoid anyone overhearing us and his eyes dart to me, taking in my stunned expression. “You don’t,” he quickly says. “I would’ve sensed it by now. Although, as I’ve told you, there is something different about you. Perhaps it’s just because the Goddess has blessed you. She has plans for you, after all.” Even though it’s not the first time I’m hearing it, it’s difficult to keep my expression neutral as he tells me I’ve been blessed…that I’m “different.”

It’s never been something I’d considered. Magic was only granted to those who the Great Mother deemed worthy, but with Grayson continually telling me I’m blessed, that I’m somethingspecial,a little part of me can’t help but start wondering,hoping. After all, that’s what all little girls dream about, right? Being told you’re special and then swept away to learn magic? It’sa romantic notion, even if our magicians are used as our best soldiers in the war. Even in the slave quarters that’s something I hear whispered between the younger slaves before they get the hope beaten out of them. Some of the older slaves would get angry with the youngsters, hissing at them to quit their foolish dreaming, but I didn’t mind. Anything was better than seeing the blank, zombie-like look that the broken slaves wear.

“I’m glad I kept the dress,” Grayson starts, pulling me out of my thoughts. From the corner of my eye I can see him running his gaze down my body before quickly looking ahead, a small frown pulling at his brow. “After my sister died…” The pain in his voice is raw as he trails off. Looking up at him, I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to continue, that he doesn’t need to explain, but as he meets my gaze, I see something harden in him. “I was going to get rid of it, but something told me to keep it. It suits you.” His words are curt, and for a moment I wonder what I’ve done wrong to make him start acting this way with me. That’s when I realise.

---