"Night- ch. 5" by Carla K. Anderson

     There was a back stairway going directly from my rooms to the far end of the kitchen, and it was this that I walked down, reasoning, accurately, that I would not encounter my father there or in the kitchen itself. However, when I emerged in the warm kitchen, the surrounding area seemed deserted. The smell of warm bread made my stomach rumble, and I palmed another roll, tossing it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to hold comfortably. There was no cheese in sight, but I dipped a glass of fresh milk for myself and, munching and drinking, I noticed a few of the kitchen workers crowded around someone at the kitchen entrance. I hastily downed the milk, and, carrying the rest of the roll, I walked up to the group.

      “What’s all this about?” I demanded coolly, knowing the servants would recognize my voice. They turned, looking nervous, but parted to let me see the doorway. Standing there was a man, dressed in woodsman green and brown. He wasn’t overly tall, but he was well built, with a commanding presence about him. Slung over his shoulder was a pole from which hung several dead rabbits. His deep brown eyes took me in; my regal voice and bearing, not to mention the fire opals I wore, clearly at odds with my simple, smudged dress, carelessly pulled back hair, and the half-eaten roll in my hand. I was suddenly terribly self-conscious, and fought back a blush as I hastily deposited what was left of the roll on a nearby table. He bowed slightly.

      “Pardon me, madam, but are you the head cook? I was told that you had just stepped out to the herb garden, but the servants led me to believe that you were…older,” he said smoothly. His voice was deep, and carried a faint undercurrent of amusement. He seemed familiar, somehow. The servants murmured quietly among themselves. I managed to keep my expression smooth, although I flushed slightly, and responded,

      “Oh no; I am the lady of the household.” And what a joke that is, I added silently. The amusement in his eyes grew, and strangely enough they glinted golden as they rested once more on the fire opal at my neck.

     We roll on the ground, among the leaves, he snaps his teeth near my nose, playfully, and I respond, lunging closer, dragging my teeth gently down his neck…

     I gasped in surprise, momentarily losing my composure, and found myself staring at the woodsman. He looked into my eyes and strangely enough, I saw recognition. He too struggled to keep his face smooth, and I knew he was hiding his thoughts. The man bowed once more, deeply this time.

      “Pardon, my lady. I shall await the head cook’s return to sell these rabbits, then, and I apologize for the disturbance.” Perfect, courtly words, but there was an undercurrent of something I couldn’t understand. He was well-spoken for a woodsman. Trembling, I fought to regain my poise.

      “Quite all right. You may bargain with me, if you wish.” I knew where the cook kept a bag of bronze coins on hand for such dealings, and if she had gone out to the herb garden, she might not return quite as soon as her underlings had said. I was unused to interaction with anyone outside of the castle folk, but somehow I gained confidence from this man, and all I wanted was to be near him for as long as I could. He grinned, flashing white teeth.

      “That would please me.” I hoped that I wasn’t blushing as he swung the pole from his shoulder to display the rabbits. Turning aside briefly, I snapped at the servants who still watched us,

      “What are you doing standing about there like a bunch of geese? Don’t you have work to be doing?” They scattered, and with a smile I turned back to listen to the hunter.

      “I ask ten bronze kernels for each rabbit, for the season has been good and these are plump. In winter, it will not be so,” he began persuasively. The earlier strangeness in his eyes seemed to have gone, and as for the images that passed through my mind, well, those were just daydreams. He very likely had a hut somewhere in the forest with a young wife and a handful of children already, and I did my best to push the earlier thoughts out of my mind. I turned my mind to bargaining.

      “Ten bronze!” I exclaimed, as I had learned from listening at the stairwell to bargains being made. “However plump they may be, we purchased some last week for only seven.”

      “Ah,” he continued, “But they are beginning to grow scarce, and I must range wider to find meat of such quality as you see here. I wouldn’t accept anything so low.” I quickly calculated how many rabbits we would need to provide sufficient food, considering my father’s return.
      “Very well. I’ll take two rabbits, at eight bronze kernels each, and that’s my final offer.” The woodsman considered briefly, then nodded.

      “Accepted.” He held out his hand, and I jumped slightly, having forgotten the traditional ending to a bargain. I took it, and he shook my hand once, firmly, but did not let go.

     …and as he holds me in his arms he whispers love words and speaks to me of strange things, things about dreams…

     I pulled back quickly, realizing that the servants were staring again, and gave them orders to cover my sudden confusion.

      “Jared! What are you gawking at? Choose two rabbits from this man’s string and prepare them. Marya, fetch the purse and count out sixteen bronze kernels for the hunter.”

     The two servants I had singled out hurried to do so, and the others turned back quickly to their work. For a brief moment we were alone once more. I took a deep breath and stared into his eyes, hoping to see an answer. They were lit with golden flecks, holding both awe and naked anguish, and as he reached towards me to brush the fire opal at my throat, I found myself unable to move.

      “Oh, dream walker… my lady…” Marya approached us, and he quickly dropped his hand and accepted the pieces of bronze. He dropped them in his purse silently, eyes fixed on me. “I will return.” With a final deep bow, he departed. I turned to find every servant in the kitchen staring at me, and I knew that this incident could reach my father. I felt anger grow that it should come to this, that I should be afraid of servants that I should be commanding. Distantly, I noticed that the fire opals has grown hot, throbbing against my skin through the fabric of my dress. I may have been merely an animal in a cage, but if even that animal were backed into a corner long enough… looking over the grouped servants, I hissed,

      “You may fear my father now, but I assure you, I will make you fear me tenfold if you tell him of this.” In the frightened silence that followed, I swept through them to the back stairs and returned to my cold, silent rooms.