Page 42 of Death of a Mortal

We got into our beds just as the other laundry ladies were heading to the bathing chamber. I rolled over to face the fire, away from everyone. To hide my face now that I knew how horrible it looked. I never wanted to show my face again if I could help it.

If I hadn’t been so occupied with thoughts of my scars, I would have noticed how warm and comfortable the bed was. I would have realized that this was all I could have dared hope for my Nella, my little lamb. But I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

“Naci…I can feel your sadness. But I can feel your happiness, too, at the way things are going for you and for Nella. I can feel your love for her and your determination to find your mother. She’sout there; I know she is. Focus on those things, not the scars. Just…focus on the good. You deserve that.”

I let the tears fall silently at Noxie’s words. It was nice to hear from him. But I didn’t respond. I had no words at that moment.

“Sleep tight, Naci. I’m out here whenever you need me.”

“Night, Noxie,” was all I could manage.

Someone doused the fire so the light in the room faded to just an orange glow from the coals. I stared at them until I fell asleep, dreaming vicious, gruesome dreams.

* * *

Morning came early,just as Miss Melda had promised. My mood had improved some from last night. Sleeping in a warm bed had done wonders for my back and morale.

We followed the other ladies to the servants’ dining hall, which was a small room off the main kitchen, where servants were already hard at work, preparing to feed the fae and mortals of the castle alike.

Nella yawned as we stood at the back of the line to wait for breakfast. A young, skinny boy was at the front of the line, scooping something goopy-looking into the bowls in the outstretched hands of the waiting servants. When it was our turn, Nella made a face of pure disgust. The look made me laugh as we walked to an open spot on the wooden bench lining the table. We sat down and took our first tentative bites.

It was…edible. Nella made a dramatic show of swallowing before she whispered to me, “I think maybe you should be in the kitchen cooking. This is awful.”

I enjoyed cooking, and I was pretty good at it if I had the ingredients I wanted, which was seldom back home.

“Better than scraps, Nella, be thankful.”

My attention snagged on an older man sitting on the other side of the table from us. He was staring at my face.

The memory of my reflection in the mirror last night flashedin my mind. I bowed my head over my bowl and ate the rest of my breakfast in silence.

When we got back to the laundry room, Miss Melda hauled two full bags of table linens to the folding station we were assigned to and reminded us how these specifically should be folded.

“When these are done, Bea here can show you the rest of the servants’ areas. Sometimes we get pulled into different departments to lend a hand when needed, so I want you to know where everything is.”

Bea didn’t look too thrilled about that.

Nella and I got to folding the square white-and-gold napkins, each embroidered with the thorn crown and green flame.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed by your scars.” Nella could tell I was down. “If anything, they make you more badass. How many mortals have taken a ball of lightning to the face and lived to talk about it?”

Come to think of it, she actually had a point.

“Nella, you really shouldn’t swear. It’s very unladylike.” I held a straight face for almost two whole seconds before we both broke out in laughter.

“Theyarepretty badass, huh?” I was putting on a brave face for Nella... I found them far more hideous than badass.

But it was enough for her to smile and start telling me all the wonderful things she had noticed around the castle. She was happy.

I listened to her talk until we were nearly done with our breakfast linens.

“And that Prince Varyn, he’s super cute.” I looked up from the napkin I was folding to see her eyeing me, as if she knew something I didn’t.

“Very cute. And very annoying and arrogant. And very much the son of King Caedryn.” I didn’t dare elaborate. More than once, I felt like the castle was watching, seeing. I didn’t know who we could trust yet to talk about the king and the rebellion, and to ask about my mom.

“And very much flirting with you,” she said, and giggled.

“No, he was not!” I threw a napkin at her. Surely that’s not what that was. Why would the handsome crown prince flirt with me, a mangled-up mortal? I must not have seen properly when I thought he winked at me. Or maybe he was like that with all the ladies and females.