Page 25 of Twisted Kings

11

Eva

"You, girl, come here," the history master says to me as he pokes his head out of the schoolroom. I'm cooling my heels, bored out of my mind while waiting for Madeline to be done with her last class. There's a small bench outside the school room, located on the fourth floor of Wester, in a dark-ish hallway with a window at the far end. It smells like paper and candles up here, the ceiling not nearly as high as on the bottom three floors.

I lift my head and look at the teacher. He's in his early forties, I'm guessing, with a touch of silver at his temples and frown lines between his eyes.

"Yes, sir," I say, getting to my feet. I usually don't meet the masters directly, instead collecting Madeline from the classroom door. At the same time, they clean up inside from whatever lesson they've taught.

"I've prepared some homework for Lady Madeline," he says as I walk toward him, holding out a sheaf of paperwork for me to take. I tuck it against my chest, crossing my arms over it. Homework for a five-year-old? I try not to frown, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. I'm outside of the servanthierarchy, but I still owe deference to the masters. That much has been made clear to me without anyone saying anything.

If I can't be given tasks by the average staff or servant, the masters cannot be criticized by me unless they're doing somethingreallyawful. And I'm not sure homework qualifies as terrible. Well, awful, maybe, but not really.

"As she won't be attending lessons tomorrow—" he continues, and I give him a blank look. He stops. "You were informed of the change in her itinerary, yes?"

Obviously not, but I'm not going to say it.

"Of course," I lie, although I'm not sure how much he believes me. I need to check my phone and figure out what I missed. Madeline comes to the door, peeping shyly around it. Her long brown hair is coming out of her braids, and I'll need to fix that before her dinner.

The master gives me another weird frown and then nods.

"Well then, that's it for the day; excellent efforts today, my Lady," he says to Madeline with a half-bow. She looks exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. I wonder if I can convince her to have dinner in the bathtub and then go to bed.

No five-year-old should be run this ragged. It makes me chew the inside of my cheek in frustration.

I offer her my hand, and she takes it, walking three steps before she yawns. The master has disappeared inside the school room, and it's just her and me.

I bend down in front of her and look her straight in the face.

"What do you say," I ask quietly so we can't be overheard, "that I get Cook to make you something you can eat in the bathtub tonight? Then books in bed?"

Her heavy eyes light up.

"Can I eat in the bathtub?" She asks, lips parting in surprise. It's breaking rules of etiquette for sure, but with me the only one with her while she eats, who's going to tell?

I nod.

"Absolutely. It's the best; you can dine like a princess."

She wrinkles her nose.

"Auntie Rose says that real princesses are mean," she replies with a frown.

"Maybe, but that's their problem, not ours. C'mon."

I set her up in the hot tub full of sudsy bubbles and order a kid's delight of grilled cheese and SpaghettiOs. Maddie's head is drooping when I bring the tray in, and she barely lifts it long enough to eat a few mouthfuls before I can tell she's going to try to drown herself if I make her finish.

It's not easy to maneuver a floppy, tired kid who seems like she's sprouted up an inch since I got here, but I wrangle her into bed. She doesn't even ask for a book, and I'm turning out the lights and closing her curtains so she can sleep deeply before six o'clock.

Something is wrong with a child being that tired. Part of me is wondering if and when I should talk to the duke about it, but it's his schedule he's set for her.

Maybe he lived through the same thing and thinks she's capable of handling it? I don't know, but it's setting off alarm bells. In Europe, the children I cared for as an Au Pair, well, their schedule could have been more rigorous.

I stand in the corridor, debating on whether to march right down to the duke's office where I know I'll find him (he's clearly trying to rub his own workaholic tendencies off on his kid), or looking into why I wasn't told about her schedule change for tomorrow.

A passing maid nods to me as I put my finger to my lips and pat Madeline's door. At least she'll tell the other staff to be quiet in the ladies' hall.

One thing that has struck me here is the extreme loyalty that the staff has towards the duke and his family. It makes me wonder because I've never known servants to be so focused on the needs of one family, to the detriment of not even having or leading their own lives.

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