Page 2 of The Broken Elf King
I didn’t know the first thing about being a servant. I’d never had one. But I knew how to cook and clean, so it couldn’t be much more different than that.
Right?
“You will be unbound so that the lead maid can check you for diseases, then you will be assigned into your new jobs here in the palace,” the trader yelled, snapping me from my thoughts. “If you try to run, I will kill you and your debt will fall to your next remaining family member.”
We were going to work here in the palace? That was kind of exciting. I eyed the stack of flour and rice and hoped I wasn’t relegated to the kitchens. I didn’t mind cooking, but doing dishes was Hades. Soggy food creeped me out. I’d love to be assigned to the library or even to work with the healers. As a half elf with zero training I had no healing ability myself, but I’d love to learn and help in any small way.
At Nightfall University I’d been studying biology so that I could find a cure for my aunt, but that was all gone now. Almost two entire years of classes and homework and studies, all for nothing.
My shackles unclicked and I rolled my shoulders, groaning at the painful release in my chest from being tied like that for several hours of the journey. For a split second I wanted to run, wanted to bolt like a bunny rabbit across the room, outside and into the woods. I eyed the doors and there, on each side, were two Bow Men. They stood tall and silent, barely moving to breathe, with an arrow already nocked into their bows.
I gulped.
An old woman entered the room then, her white hair tied into a sleek bun atop her head. She wore a blue cotton maid’s uniform with a white apron, and held a small stick in her hand.
“My name is Mrs. Tirth. I am the lead maid here at Archmere Castle. I will be checking you for lice and making sure you don’t have any deformities that would keep you from doing your job here.”
Lice?Gross. I eyed the girl next to me, who scratched her head.
There were nine of us in all, a mix of elf, fae, and human—the castle must have purchased us in bulk for various jobs. I didn’t want to overstep, but I really wanted to work with the healers or around books if possible.
Biting my tongue, I waited until Mrs. Tirth used her stick to poke and prod everyone’s hair and check in their mouths and peer closely at their hands and feet, until she got to me. When she did, I deeply curtsied. “Mrs. Tirth, would it be inappropriate to offer a list of strengths so that you might best fit us with our jobs?”
The old woman raised an eyebrow at me and then glanced up into the viewing box, where a few hooded figures still looked down on us.
“Strengths?” she asked as she began to dig through my brown hair with the stick.
“Yes, ma’am. I can read and write. I’m adept at calculus and organic chemistry, and have a passion for reading and healing.”
The stick froze, tangled in my hair, and the woman stared down at me. I braced myself for her reaction but she just burst out into laughter. The trader cackled too, as well as the other slaves, and now everyone was laughing at me.
“Honey, I just need you to make bread or clean the toilets,” Mrs. Tirth said, and my stomach fell.
Well, it was a worth a shot.
I felt the trader move behind me. “Want me to check her for pubic lice?” He huffed and then his hand landed on my ass and squeezed.
Hard.
Mrs. Tirth looked affronted at the trader’s comment, but I knew she’d do nothing about it.
Every angry, repressed feeling I’d been holding in since the bankers had come and taken me away from my aunt exploded out of me then. A vengeful rage washed over me and I snapped. Spinning, I faced the ugly trader. He gazed down at me with lusty eyes and I snapped my palm upward into his nose just like my auntie had taught me, and was rewarded with the crunch of bone. He bent forward to grab his face and I reached up with my knee, smashing it as hard as I could into his man parts.
A wail cut through the room and he fell to the side, red-faced.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Tirth said behind me.
I spun to face the head servant. “He touched my backside without permission. Is that encouraged here?” I asked her, hoping to talk myself out of whatever punishment was about to come my way for retaliating against the trader.
Her face flushed and I noticed movement above in the window. One of the hooded figures was leaving the room. I knew I’d gone too far, butdammit, what the trader did wasn’t okay and I was hoping Mrs. Tirth would agree. Woman to woman.
She swallowed hard. “It is not,” she finally said.
The two Bow Men were suddenly behind me, hooking me under the armpits and dragging me towards the doors.
Crap, where did they come from?
I tried to struggle in their grasp but it was no use. They lifted me into the air, pinched something in my armpit to cause a whimper from my throat, and carried me as if I were made of parchment.
