Page 72 of Frost and Death
Of course it isn’t her fault she smells different from Betina, and it isn’t her fault I am a prisoner here. I make sure to thank her every time she aids me. I know it is not a luxurious job, and my injuries don’t help either.
But Dorit is kind and helpful, and her company is not unbearable.
I have made huge strides in my healing lately, being able to rise from the bed alone and not get dizzy. I can’t hide the joy from knowing my body is improving.
Dorit’s soft, lyrical voice drifts in from the hall. “Your Majesty, I’ve come to drop off a gown for tonight.”
Dorit enters, donning a simple, bold magenta dress.
The fabric extends from her hips, secured at the waist by a vested corset tied neatly on her back. Matching ribbon weaves through her plaits, highlighting more color around her and her fragile body.
She holds a package, and I grumble at the thought of wearing another wedding gown.Especiallyone I had no role in choosing. But she offers me a curtsy, resting the dress across the chaise at the end of the bed.
Rising slowly, I walk over and gasp.
The dress is not the tight bodice and flared gowns I am used to wearing, though. The fabric is satin and of the palest of blues.
The sleeves are thin, held together by rows of the whitest of pearls. The beads glimmer in the light.
I turn it over, revealing a low and see-through back with the beading draped from shoulder to shoulder, allowing my skin to shine through the pearls. It looks more like a sleeping gown, with its simplicity and lack of layered fabrics.
But the satin is so soft and delicate the quality exudes luxury.
“This is stunning,” I marvel in awe.
“His Majesty picked it out.”
I linger over Dorit’s words, but when she turns her gaze from the dress to me, her features turn distant.
“I was hoping we could talk,” she says.
I raise my eyebrow. That was not what I was expecting.
“What do you want to discuss?” I allow her to proceed, turning toward the vanity to resume brushing my hair.
In the reflection, she looks down and fidgets with her hands, and I halt my brushing, noting the signals of nervousness. Maybe she and I could have more in common.
Her chest rises and falls as she makes eye contact with me.
I try for reassurance. “It’s alright.”
Dorit’s eyes drop to the floor. “I’ve been practicing this conversation since you’ve arrived, not knowing how to explain myself to you. I know you do not like it here, and for that, I am so sorry. And I know you don’t want to be here, and I know that—”
“Dorit.” My heart softens as her rambling gets the better of her. She stops when I face her. “It is okay.”
She twists her hands as the ribbon in her plaits begins to match the color of her cheeks.
“His Majesty and I were briefly—and I meanbriefly—involved with one another prior to him becoming king. We have known each other for years, and it was when we were young and stupid,” she blurts.
I arch a brow, tilting my head. Why is she telling me this?
Dorit paces forward a few steps. “But I swear to the Makers what we shared was fleeting for the two of us. I truly do not have any deep affection for His Majesty, nor does he for me. He is the king I serve, and I am head of the house staff meant to help him and the prince where I can.”
She moves toward me, but she hesitates, her lips quivering. “Ineedthis job, and I know of the rumors that circulate. Deities, there are so many. But I didn’t want you to learn this from anyone else and have you dismiss me before I have a chance to prove my work ethic and commitment to you.”
She spoke so fast it took a minute to register what she was telling me. Dorit crumples, and she collapses to the floor, burying her face.
My heart breaks with the fear showing through this poor woman.
