Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 45

Spill that tea!
Trace sat at dinner, eating with open ears as talk and banter flowed freely amongst the servants. Gossip wasn’t hard to come by, but the kind he wanted wasn’t being offered up at the moment. So he smiled, and laughed, and was attentive and as likeable as he could be.

To probe would surely be suspicious, so he had to let the information come to him, if it would. Here in the servants’ quarters of the palace kitchens, the staff were apparently in the habit of enjoying a lively meal before the royals ate dinner.

Trace learned after a few minutes that magic users ate separately, as one of the chambermaids was speculating that they got finer food.

No chance of seeing the hairstylist now, then. That was disappointing, as he had a particular interest in spying on the woman. The food here was passable, but nothing special; it was servants’ fare meant to be filling so that they could work hard, but not so heavy that they became lazy. By definition, that meant it stayed rather bland.

He tried to work up the proper way to inquire when and where the magic users ate so he could figure out a way to encounter them.

“Is this always the eating schedule?” He asked the man next to him politely. “Or does it change sometimes?”

“It’s always like this for us,” The footman shrugged. “We have to get our meal in before the nobles eat their dinner, or we’d starve late into the night until they all go to bed.”

“The maids have it worse,” One piped in from a few seats away, “You get to go to bed when they do; we have to stay up and build the fires for the next morning in each of the rooms, and scrub and clean when no one’s in them. You get to stand like a statue when someone enters, we have to scurry out and pretend we don’t exist.”

“I’ll be content if no one but me ever notices you exist,” The footman winked at the maid, who threw a piece of bread at him.

“You keep your eyes and hands to yourself,” She chastised him, provoking a mix of laughter and commiseration for the spurned footman. Trace laughed along with them, feeling nostalgic for a meal at home with his family. Good natured ribbing was a staple at their gatherings.

Before he could ask another question of the people around him, a motion at the corner of Trace’s eye caught his attention. There, on the spiral servant’s stairs, someone beckoned from the shadows.

Anaisa!

He excused himself from the table and stood, taking his plate nonchalantly to the dish washers before strolling towards her so as not to catch the attention of the others.

They were all busy; the dinner gong had rung signaling that the royal meal would begin in half an hour, and all the kitchen servants and footmen were scrambling to make sure the several-course dinner would be served without any hiccups.

Anaisa stepped backwards further into the shadows before leading Trace to an out-of-the-way alcove.

“Trace,” She whispered hurriedly, “I’m not sure how long I have, I snuck down while the Princess is at dinner. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night, she threatened to behead me if I spoke a word about it!”

Trace’s heart sank. His wife’s life had been threatened, and he had resented her for keeping secrets!

“It’s in the past now,” He said. “We need to keep you safe. You need to get out of the palace.”

“I can’t!” Anaisa’s tone turned sour. “Even if I could get out, she’d find me, have me tracked down. I’m lucky she hasn’t already had Yemi turn my hair black!”

“Why would she… have you learned anything else about that magic user?” Trace turned the topic briefly towards his goal, though he fully intended to come back to the part where he snuck Anaisa out to safety.

“You suspect her, truly?” Anaisa frowned. “It’s possible, but she couldn’t be working alone, there’s no way for her to accomplish much by herself. Of course, there are plenty of alcoves for her to meet and pass information to someone else, or maybe they pass letters somehow…”

A round of laughter echoed from the servants’ table, reminding Trace that they were potentially within earshot of others if they got too loud. Anaisa shrank back from the noise and he pressed closer until they were both tightly fit into the space.

She was nearly touching him, their faces closer than they had ever been. He briefly had trouble concentrating on what they had been talking about.

“I will investigate that,” He assured her, knowing that Anaisa would have added any extra information she’d gotten already. “You have to stay safe, and if that’s not possible where you are–”

“It’s not possible anywhere,” Anaisa’s upper lip curled with displeasure. “If I flee, she will find me. Even if she doesn’t, won’t your friend Conlan track me down? Will I be taken and held hostage until your work is done?”

Trace’s stomach clenched. He hated that possibility, but he couldn’t deny it. “I need to get this resolved quickly, then, so you can escape.” He decided.

“I need to stay, and we need to get this done before the ball.” She added.

“Why before the ball?” He frowned, distracted from his point. That seemed like an arbitrary deadline.

“That’s what I really needed to tell you about,” Anaisa glanced furtively to the side and lowered her voice further. “You obviously noticed how alike we look.”

“Yes, the resemblance is striking,” He shook his head in mild disbelief. “Did she notice?”

“That’s the point. Yemi changed Sapphira’s hair to my color, then we both realized how similar we appear. The Princess was angry at first, but then decided she needs me to be her double at the ball. That way she can either find a proper suitor in secret or run off if there isn’t one. If I help the princess run away, I’ll surely be executed!”