Page 30 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I exhale through my nose and take the axe. Is it possible that he won’t kill me? Or punish me some other way for my incompetence? This is the same prince who told me humans aren’t allowed to serve him in the Nothril Court, and yet he deigns to instruct me on how to accomplish my chores. Is he on his best behavior while in the human lands so we will trust him and allow him to do whatever he came to do?

On my next swing, the axe gets stuck.

“Rock it as I previously demonstrated,” says the prince.

I throw all my effort into it. Perhaps it would be easier if the log was rooted into the ground and not prone to moving. I use my foot to keep it still. Then I pause, the warmth of the day making sweat bead across my forehead. I give a hard upward jerk and the axe comes free.

“You might be doomed to chopping your own wood, sir.” The words are out before I remember that I am not Kat, but a servant boy. My eyes fly wide with horror. “That is, my lord, I will master this. I promise. I—”

He blinks slowly. “Try again.”

I manage to keep my girlish war cry behind the seal of my gritted teeth as I try again. The axe flies through the air. It bounces off again, but this time I succeed both in creating a small crack and dodging the sharpened iron coming for my face.

“Again,” says Rahk.

I do as he says. Over and over again. Until, finally, a resounding crack splits the air. The log splits in two, and I stare bug-eyed at it. Then I blurt: “That wasawesome!”

“I’m glad you think so.” His flintlike jaw shifts, his mouth twisting, a lightness coming into his cold eyes. “Because there is a lot to do. If it’s too much, one of the other servants can handle it.”

“No, master! I will do this!”

He gives a single shrug and strides back to the manor. I stare after the retreat of his tall form, processing only now that I’m in full view of his study’s window. I spin around and face the task before me.

“You don’t stand a chance,” I tell the pile of logs.

I throw every bit of my strength into my blows, honing my accuracy as I work. With each strike, I unleash my relief that he didn’t recognize me.

I can finally relax.

If he hasn’t figured out who I am by now, then he won’t. My disguise—both then and now—has worked.

I chop the wood for his hearth and return to the project of his bedchamber. I take his unpacked trunks to Edvear and follow his instructions for where to put them. I draw fresh water from the well outside for the basin and pitcher of water in his bathing chamber. When I can see nothing else that needs to be cleaned, arranged, or sorted, I run outside to the garden and clip a few sprigs of flowering basil to put in a vase on each of his windowsills. I must do what I can to make this room a pleasant smelling, but not overpowering, room for him to be in.

The mysterious door in the bedchamber finally beckons me too much, and I crack it open. It’s probably my responsibility to ready this room too, anyway.

What I find is a very small room with nothing but a rack to hang clothes, a bed for one person, and a small nightstand beside it. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I clean it like I did the main room.

Eventually, when the golden glow coming through the windows darkens, I look up. And I realize I’ve done everything I can possibly think of doing. I sag against the wall, my limbs threatening to give out completely.

I’m not sure I’ve ever worked so hard in my entire life. And I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted—even after my raids.

There is something satisfying about surveying the room now. I give it one more study, and then I force my legs to carry me into the hallway. I shut the door behind me and hurry to find Edvear.

He is setting a single place in the dining room.

“What do I do now, sir?” I ask, barely hoping Edvear’s activities indicate that I will not be required to serve the prince his dinner.

“Master Rahk will eat here. You are finished for the day. Go eat with the other servants and take your rest.”

I nearly sag in relief. “Where do I sleep?”

He gives me a funny look, as if I should know these things—since I am the younger brother of a maid and all that. Still, he doesn’t press, and only answers: “You sleep in the adjoining room attached to Master Rahk’s.”

That small room was . . .myroom?

My entire body seizes up. I’m supposed to sleep only a few paces from the prince, with only a door between us? How am I going to run raids? How will I keep the proper distance I need between the prince and I?

“You are dismissed,” Edvear says pointedly.

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