Page 23 of The Bone King and the Starling

I don’t know what I find more shocking — that he asked me permission, or that he calls me his lady. I recoil straight into the wooden table. It clips my lower back, making me hiss.

He curses. “Apologies. I am so deeply sorry, my lady. That was extremely forward. Our healer will have a look at you — she’s female, if that assuages your concerns any.”

“Oh, I… Please don’t concern yourself, my lord.”

“It is too late for that, my lady. I am already concerned.”

“My friend Ebanora… Her mother can tend to me as soon as we finish preparing breakfast…”

The male scoffs like I’ve said something sacrosanct and comes to me. I have nowhere to go and flinch, fearing his ire, but he simply takes the staff of the large bread turner from my hands, sets it down and leans it against the table behind me.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, my lady, where are your shoes? The frost will catch you if you are walking around the village with bare feet.”

He is not as large a male as the king — I’ve not seen any males so large as he — but he is not a small male, either. Thinner, brawnier with hawkish, deep-set eyes and dark hair pulled back into a braided ponytail that hangs all the way down his midback, he is a fierce male to behold…but not frightening like the king, I realize. It’s because his reactions he wears on his sleeve. I can make sense of them. I know what he’s thinking.

The king, by contrast, reveals nothing. And it’s perhaps for that reason that I say, “You…you can look, if you’d like to, my lord.”

He winces and opens his mouth, but I turn and clutch my arms to my chest and bow my head forward. I shiver as he pushes myhair over one shoulder and tugs slightly on the wide collar of my shift.

He gasps, “You were lashed?”

I nod.

“For what?” He releases me.

I turn back around and hazard a glance at his face. I know better than to reveal anything, so I cryptically say, “For being with the king.”

“He has gone about this all wrong,” he spits, raking a hand roughly over his face, “and now, Ghabari is punishing him for it. And you. And me, too. The gods will have their sacrifice on this day.”

I am not so familiar with the god Ghabari, but from what I know…he collects sacrifices — human sacrifices only because his wife, Raya, does not allow him to touch the softer animals. They fall under her protection. I shudder.

“Who did this to you? We will need to offer them up if the rest of the world is to remain unscathed.”

He watches me expectantly but I say nothing. Because the strangest realization dawns on me in this moment. I may fear the king terribly, and his man here may intimidate me — but that is nothing compared to the sure and brutal death I know I will experience if I name Chief Olec’s most favored Rosalind and offer her up for any kind of punishment.

My fingers move to conceal my swollen cheek and I wince, shake my head and whisper, “You will punish them.”

“Yes. Terribly.”

“But…I’m sorry, my lord. Truly. I do not mean to deny you, but if you punish them…then you will leave. And I will suffer the retaliation. I would rather you let it be. It is not so bad compared to what will happen to me should I offer someone up to the king.”

My gaze has returned to the ground, but I still hear his weary exhalation. The man’s shoulders sag forward a moment before he whispers, “Come. We will have this out with the king now.”

“Please, my lord.” I shake my head and he softens, but only slightly.

“You don’t need to fear me, my lady,” he says.

I glance up as he slips his hand beneath my elbow. I am humiliated and afraid. I can see the other thralls nearby watching us. Elena is closest and she watches our interaction with a bewildered look on her face.

“I am a thrall, my lord. Not a lady. And truly, I’m fine. I appreciate the king sending you to check on me. You’ve been very kind.” I suck in a wet breath that catches in my throat, never making it past that barrier to reach my lungs. My whole body squeezes tight.

“I did not come to check on you, my lady. I came to escort you to the king. He would see you now. And since you are injured, I must insist on carrying you, my lady,” he says loudly, placing emphasis on the term in a way that feels like it’s not only for my benefit, but intended to be heard by everyone in the room. “I will not have you walking any longer with bare feet. I will endeavor to take care with your back.” He does not wait for my reply, but swings me up into his arms awkwardly, supporting only my knees and my side against his chest and my opposite un-lashed shoulder.

“You weigh not near as much as you ought to, my lady,” he mumbles, stomping out of the kitchens into the village square where all eyes are on us. I shiver because of the cold, because I do not know what’s going on… I know only that it cannot end well for me.

I remain curled in his arms as he stomps across the town square. He hails another of the king’s warriors — a woman — as she passes by the fountain. She’s only one of two women thatI saw traveling with the king and when she and I accidentally exchange glances, she starts.

“That’s not…” She points at my face.

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