Page 107 of Into the Heartless Wood
“Lunch,” she says, nodding at the tray. “For you,” she adds when I don’t answer.
I recollect myself, accept the tray, and sink gingerly to a seat in the main aisle of the stable. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t slip away like I’m expecting, just watches as I eat. I inhale the food: a cheese and chicken sandwich, a glass of icy milk. Maybe being away from the mess hall on stable duty with my back torn to shreds isn’t the worst thing after all.
I hand the tray back when I’m done, but she still doesn’t leave. “Do you need some help? You helped me with the potatoes the other night.”
“I’m supposed to do it myself.”
Her eyes flit to my blood-soaked shirt. “You won’t be able to finish.”
She is not exactly wrong. “Won’t they miss you in the kitchens?”
She shrugs and sets the tray down in the aisle again. “I don’t think so. I’m new here and known for being quite stupid.”
I smile. “You’re not stupid.”
“Oh, I am. The cook has told me I’m almost entirely useless. I have been banned from the kitchen and the laundry, and this morning I dropped a bucket of wash-water on a priceless rug. I only bring people things now. It’s all I’m trusted with, and even then only just.” She tilts her head and smiles at me. Her eyes dance as she gestures at the stalls. “So you’ll have to tell me exactly what to do.”
Bedwyn cleans the rest of the stalls herself—she doesn’t even let me get up. She’s surprisingly strong for a slip of a girl, and I find myself admiring her in a way that startles me.
She slides down beside me when she’s finished, grimy and caked in sweat, but she smells faintly sweet. Like wildflowers opening in the sun.
“Do I know you?” I ask her, without meaning to.
Her smile falters a little. She shakes her head. “Only from the potatoes.” Gentle fingers skim across the bandages on my shoulders. “I am sorry for your pain. They had no right.”
I start to shrug, and wince. “They can do whatever they want.”
“Did you find whoever it was you were looking for the other night?”
“No. And they caught me sneaking around, so I don’t know how I’ll even keep looking.”
Her face pinches. “Who are you looking for? Not … not the Soul Ea—I mean the king?”
I look at her strangely. “I’ve had one meeting with the king, and that was quite enough for me.”
She shudders, goes even paler than she already is. “I hate being so close to him. He frightens me.”
“I’m not exactly fond of him anymore either, but why does he frighten you?”
“He’s a monster,” she says simply. Her voice wavers on that word.
My insides clench up. “I thought the only monsters were the ones in the wood.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. She jerks away from me, snatches the tray, hugs it to her chest. “The housekeeper will be missing me. I had better go now.” Her gaze darts everywhere but to me.
I’m not sure how to make her feel at ease again. “Thank you for helping me. I couldn’t have managed on my own.”
Her eyes flit to mine. “I can search the palace for you,” she offers. “I am only supposed to go where I am sent—” Her face tightens—something else she’s clearly been reprimanded for. “But everyone thinks me stupid enough to keep getting myself lost. Whoareyou looking for?”
“My little sister. She’s only two, and I think the king is keeping her shut up somewhere in the palace. I have to find her.”
Bedwyn nods. “I’ll look,” she promises. She stares at me for a moment more, then quirks a little smile at me and is gone.
For a moment I just sit there, staring after her, and then I drag my aching body up and go report to Carys that I’ve finished with the stables.
She informs me I’ll be back to my regular drills tomorrow, and then unexpectedly sends me straight up to the kitchen for dish-washing duty. I’m not expecting to be elbow-deep in soap suds when Bedwyn comes in, carrying a tray piled precariously with dirty dishes.
