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97 – Prudence
Chapter 97 – Draft 1
The more she thought about it, the clearer it became. Prudence wanted out. She wanted out of the stone chateau. Out of the marble chateau. Out of… everything related to Les Chateaux. She hated life here. This uncivilized frontier. Surrounded by monsters. Locked up with a brother obsessed with his perversions and a husband who wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life governing a kingdom of hicks.
Pieter could stay here. Harry could stay with him if that’s what he wanted. They could both be buried here for all she cared, but she was moving on. If befriending a monstrosity could get her one step closer to home, Prudence would do it. Nobody back home would know. Nobody would judge her. And even if they did, she would rather cry herself to sleep in her bedroom in her father’s mansion than remain forever isolated from society here on the edge of civilization.
Nastya began life as a man, she thought. Therefore, in spite of his appearances, he was still a man. Men could be managed. Prudence had learned that much from her mother. And as the youngest of five, she had learned lessons from her sisters as well.
Faith, older by a decade, had married a man who preferred the company of men to that of his own wife. They found a way to manage, in spite of the scandal. He kept the company he wanted. She kept the company she wanted – in another city. And they both kept the Company out of their personal business. As long as profits weren’t at risk, nobody did anything more than whisper anyway. And nobody who worked for the Company lived a whisper-free life.
As the lady of Les Chateaux, Prudence had full access to every corner of the domestic spaces. So when she climbed the grand staircase to the governor’s quarters nobody questioned her presence. Nor was she challenged when she passed through the hallway leading to his private rooms.
She first heard the sound in that hallway – a kind of grinding… screeching noise. Initially, she thought it was coming from outside. Perhaps a window was open and the blacksmith was… doing… something. But as she entered the outer chamber of the governor’s private quarters, she realized the sound was coming from within.
Stopping inside the threshold, she held her breath and turned her head slowly from side to side, scanning with her ears. It was definitely a tool sound. It had to be a servant doing something. The question was: what, exactly? And should they be doing it?
A lifetime at the top had taught Prudence that unsupervised servants sometimes got up to things that servants had no business getting up to. So her hackles rose and she immediately switched into stealth mode.
Moving slowly, silently, peeking around every corner, Prudence traced the suspicious sounds to a desk in her brother’s study. The quarters were generally quiet, unoccupied. Muffled voices suggested people were conversing in the library or perhaps the sitting room, but the rooms at this end of the governor’s private quarters seemed unoccupied.
His back was to her when she spied him through the doorway. A musical instrument case sat open on a worktable just inside the study door. A lamp sat above him on the top of the roll-top desk. He held something up in his left hand between his face and the lamp briefly, examined it, then slouched over to continue working on it. His right elbow worked up and down on the thing that seemed to be between his legs.
Could this be sexual? She wondered for a moment, gasping inwardly. Then… no. His pants were not around his ankles. At that moment, as Prudence continued creeping forward, he set whatever was in his right hand down on the desk and picked up a piece of paper. Placing the object in his left against the paper, he held both up to the light of the lamp. Prudence was close enough to see that something was drawn on the paper, but not close enough to see what it was.
Setting the paper down, he picked up his tool and went back to work. Both the object and the tool he was using were metal, she concluded, as she silently entered the room. That would account for the grinding and the screeching. Could it be part of this instrument? There were things on the table next to the instrument case that she did not recognize.
“What are you making?” she asked.
Startled, he shot to his feet and whipped around to face her.
Long practiced in the art of managing servants, Prudence sensed guilt in his reaction. His arms dropped to his sides tight against his thighs, with his palms facing backwards, hiding whatever they held. His complexion reddened and his eyes glistened with panic.
“I asked you what you are making,” she repeated, standing taller and crossing her arms.
He stammered words in a language she did not understand and looked past her – not directly at her – as someone who was not guilty might. Prudence hesitated. Unsure how to proceed. Guilty as he surely was of something, he did not work for her. Should she…
“Leave him alone!” A stern voice spoke from behind her.
Prudence spun around, startled. She felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck, over her ears, and burrow beneath the cover of her wig. Nastya, flanked by Darjen, had entered the outer room through a different doorway.
“He doesn’t speak your language,” Nastya said, folding her arms across her chest and lowering her forehead to show her horns.
“I’m sorr… My apologies, Mistress Nastya,” Prudence said, taking a breath, trying to regain her composure. “He was… I came in” – she took a deep breath and cleared her throat – “When I came in,” she started over slowly, “I heard a sound. I found him here working on something. I asked him what it was?”
“And?” Nastya’s tone matched her unforgiving glare.
“And… now…” Prudence searched for the words, “he… seems to be hiding something.”
Nastya raised her chin, rolling her horns back behind her. Her eyes narrowed while her lips pressed together. Glancing past Prudence to her musical tutor, she marched into the room. Wisps of something sexy caressed Prudence’s olfactory senses as Nastya’s heels clicked by her on the marble floors – her hand extended toward the diminutive man.
Terrified, he looked from Darjen to Nastya. What she said to him was not intelligible to Prudence, but it was clear his mistress was demanding the items in his hands. His mistress repeated her words, louder, and he handed the items over.
Nastya examined them silently for a few moments and then turned to pass them to Prudence. One was a file. The other was a small piece of copper with notches carved into it on two sides.
“What is it?” Prudence was puzzled about the piece of copper.
“It’s a buzzing bridge,” Nasta said.
“A what?”
“It’s a part,” Nastya replied, “for the hurdy-gurdy.”
Prudence felt the tingling returning to her neck. “Why was he hiding it?”
Nastya glanced up, uncertain, and then asked him the question. He replied calmly, holding his hands to his ears.
“He thought you were mad at him for making noise,” she relayed. “He thought you were threatening to punish him.”
Prudence touched her cheek with the fingers of her left hand while she fixed her eyes on the marble tiles at Nastya’s feet. Her stomach knotted and her heart raced. This was bad. Rather than making things better, she was making things worse.
Prudence handed the buzzing bridge back. Nastya moved between her and the table, set the piece down beside the instrument case, and motioned the staff away. “Why are you bothering us?” Nastya demanded.
“The goliath,” Prudence muttered weakly, before taking a breath and picking up her chin. “He’s ready to fight. He will be the featured fighter at our Incorporation Day celebration.”
Nastya sighed in a way that made Prudence cringe. “What is Incorporation Day?”
“It is our annual holiday,” Prudence brightened, trying to change the tone of the conversation. “We–”
“Fine,” Nastya interrupted. “Anything else?”
Good breeding doesn’t run; Prudence heard her mother’s voice echoing in her memory. Make it right before you walk away, or you may damage the relationship forever.
“I thought it was a key,” Prudence offered in a voice barely more than a mumble.
Nastya frowned, crossed her arms, and lowered her horns once again.
“You know what they’re like,” Prudence said, confident that Nastya would understand what she was saying. “Always trying to take advantage. Always trying to fill their pockets.”
Nastya raised her chin, slightly, as if listening with fresh ears.
“We had a servant once,” Prudence continued. “Copied a key for our larder. Stole food for months before I caught her.”
Nastya frowned as if struck by a thought. She turned and picked up the buzzing bridge and examined it closely, before shooting Prudence a side-eyed glance and setting it back on the table.
“I overreacted,” Prudence offered meekly. “And I fear I have made things worse between us when I only wanted to try to make things better.” Prudence hung her head and dropped her shoulders in submission.
Several heartbeats of silence swelled to fill the room. Two voices, male and female, murmured through the walls.
“Execution,” Nastya said, breaking the silence.
Puzzled, Prudence held her tongue.
“Reward them for everything they do right,” Nastya explained. “Small things. Big things. Reward everything. Then execute those who betray you,” she said, frankly. “Do that and your servants will keep each other in line.”
Prudence nearly swooned as Nastya lifted the weight that had been crushing her. “I feel I could learn so much from you,” she offered. “I helped run my father’s household, but I was the youngest of five sisters.”
Nastya’s arms unfolded and floated down to her sides. She moved over to the desk and settled her weight back against it.
“We are so isolated in this place,” Prudence continued, moving to the space just vacated by Nastya, “I have no one to speak to,” she confessed, breathing in the fiendling’s sensual perfume as she bent to examine the instrument in its case. “I’m sure my brother’s chateau is nothing like what you are accustomed to, mistress.”
“This place?” Nastya mocked. “This is the least interesting dungeon I have ever been inside. It is so straitlaced and boring. I’m not sure how it’s any different from an actual prison.”
Prudence greeted the dungeon entendre with relief. She hoped it was a sign that they were recovering from their rocky start. Her task, as Pieter reminded her at every opportunity, was to keep the fiendling’s sexual appetites well fed.
“That reminds me, Mistress Nastya,” she probed, “I had hoped that in addition to delivering the news about the goliath, I might have an opportunity to inquire about the… quality of your stay with us.”
Nastya smiled. “You are concerned about the… quality of my stay?” She seemed amused.
“Of course,” Prudence smiled back. “It is important to my brother. Therefore it is important to me.”
Natsya held her smile, searching Prudence’s face for several heartbeats. “Sit with me,” she said, indicating two settees separated by a low table.
Prudence was surprised by the sudden change of tone and faltered. Nastya crossed the few steps to the settee and lowered herself. She sat back, crossed her sleek cherrywood legs, leaned into the armrest on her left and folded her hands in her lap.
“Sit,” she ordered Prudence, indicating the settee across the table.
Prudence complied, perching properly on the edge of the settee, keeping her chin up and her knees pressed together. Where is this going? she wondered, afraid to speak and kill the momentum she had just regained.
Nastya’s eyes moved over her as though it was her first time truly seeing her. Prudence could feel them track over her hair and face, then slide down her neck to dwell on her body before lingering down her legs below the hemline. I should have worn the other shoes, Prudence chastised herself silently.
“Sit back,” Nastya commanded. “Relax.”
Prudence took a shuddering breath and complied. Edging back, she placed her hands on her thighs and allowed her legs to part, ever so slightly. Lowering her chin, she dropped her shoulders and allowed her spine a gentle curve – being careful not to slouch.
“Good girl,” Nastya cooed, looking her up and down one more time. “Now tell me how sleeping with you will improve the quality of my stay.”
Prudence was startled by Nastya’s directness. She never meant her offer to be taken literally. It was a flirt. It was suggestive. She was… suggesting herself, not offering herself. Any gentleman would understand. The mere suggestion would be enough to lead any man on for a moon or two.
“I presume your brother has warned you about fiendlings.” Nastya was all business now. Prudence was confused. “Close your mouth,” Nastya instructed. “Your species is ugly enough.”
Prudence closed the small gap that had appeared between her lips.
“If your brother’s plan was to offer you to me in an attempt to improve the quality of my stay…” Nastya trailed off, in the midst of an interrupting thought. “Stand up,” she said.
Prudence was bewildered.
“Stand up,” Nastya repeated firmly.
Prudence complied.
Nastya scanned her from head to toe. “Darjen,” she called, summoning her haff-ra servant, who appeared promptly in the doorway.
“I’m here, mistress,” the old lady said softly, approaching the settee.
“How about this one?” Nastya asked.
Darjen seemed surprised. “For me, mistress?”
“Her brother has offered her to us,” Nastya explained. “He is worried about the quality of our stay.”
The white-haired haff-ra shook her head politely. “Too young for me, I’m afraid,” she explained quietly. “And she’s a girl, mistress.”
Nastya rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand that.”
“Perhaps Gideon,” the old lady suggested.
Nastya’s eyes lit up. “Fetch him, would you.”
Nastya seemed delighted with the idea, but Prudence was not.
“Forgive me, mistress,” Prudence objected. “I am not…” she searched for the words, “a concubine.”
“That’s not your decision to make, my dear,” Nastya stated, flatly, holding Prudence’s gaze until she looked away. “Close your mouth,” she reminded her.
“Gideon,” Nastya exclaimed, as the minstrel entered the room, “Tell me, sweetheart, what do you think of this one?”
Gideon, appearing surprised and perplexed, turned his attention to Prudence.
“Turn around,” Nastya instructed her.
Prudence faltered for a second time since this meeting began. What is happening? she asked herself, feeling things spiraling out of control.
“Turn around,” Nastya repeated.
Prudence complied as a blush rushed up her neck and tingled under her wig again. How dare she make such assumptions? How dare she tell me what I am and am not?
“Well?” Nastya asked Gideon.
He shrugged and grimaced.
“What do you mean?” Nastya seemed playfully surprised.
“She is a very pretty girl,” he offered. “But for me? She’s just… too… girly.”
Nastya giggled. “What do you mean, too girly? You don’t say that about me?” she teased.
“You, my dear, sweet, exotic, mistress,” Gideon reminded her, gallantly, “have horns.” Gently, with the back of his fingers, he stroked the horn closest to him, smiling and gazing into Nastya’s eyes.
“Oh,” Nastya pouted, gesturing to Prudence. “Look what you’ve done.”
“What?” Gideon smiled, wide-eyed. “What have I done?” He searched Prudence for a clue.
“Look how aroused she is,” Nastya exclaimed.
Prudence held her breath and pressed her lips together, realizing Nastya was right.
“How can you tell?” Gideon asked.
“Oh,” Nastya scoffed. “You people are so limited. Tell him,” she ordered Prudence.
Prudence gasped. “I’m sorry,” she said sitting down, “this is…” she waved her hands in front of her, “too much.”
The room went silent. Darjen, who had been standing in the doorway since fetching Gideon lowered her eyes to examine the marble tiles of the floor. Gideon, transferred his gaze from Nastya to Prudence as the smile fell from his face. Nastya’s playfulness gave way to an air of dominance.
Prudence felt the change and instantly regretted her words. After rebounding so skillfully, she was plunging over the edge again. Her chance to go home was dissolving before her eyes. Nastya’s next words shot through her like a bolt of lightning.
“You want something from me,” Nastya said, touching Prudence in a place she had never been touched before. “I don’t know what it is yet, but I do know that I can give it to you.”
Prudence composed herself. She arched her back, lifted her chin, squeezed her knees together and checked to make certain that her mouth was closed. Then she took a long, slow breath.
“I do,” she said.