Page 8 of The Bone King and the Starling

THE COIN MASTER

“ P sst…psst!” A light tapping on my outstretched fingertips is what causes my eyes to finally open. I see a blurry outline and I don’t understand where I am or what’s happening. It’s Rosalind, but this is not the great hall, nor are these the stable rushes where I sleep when the hall is full. I am not cold. No, I’m not cold. I am warmer now than I have ever been, even if I do feel pains all over my body. What…where am I?

Rosalind stands near the edge of the bed — a bed that I’m lying atop — placing linens on the dresser. She motions for me to come. My head rolls to the left and I start. King Calai is in my bed — no, I am in his — no, we are both in Chief Olec’s bed because last night he promised me riches in exchange for my virginity. He took the latter, but made no mention of the former.

One of his arms and legs are draped across my front. His face is turned towards me and he looks angry, even in sleep. I shudder. The enormous size of him has not diminished with the night. I wonder what time it is — if I’m late for my duties. Perhaps, that’s why I’ve been woken up.

With great difficulty, I manage to slide out from beneath the king’s impossible heft and off of the bed. I land on the cold, hard-packed earthen floor on shaky legs. I walk to Rosalind and she holds out a shift for me to dress in. It must be one of hers because, as I continue moving, my memories come back to me in rapid flashes and I remember that he cut my dress and shift off.

Rosalind’s dark grey gaze is cold as it roams down my bare body. Shivering in the cold air of her chamber, I pull her shift over my head. She doesn’t betray her reaction to my mottled skin and enflamed, puffy sex. I don’t inspect myself thoroughly, afraid of what I might find. Instead, I simply take the painful steps I need to follow after her when she gestures me out into the great hall where King Calai’s men and women are fast asleep.

She leads me down the servant’s path against the wall until we reach the alcove where drink was stored last night. I walk with a limp. She glances down at my left, offending leg when she turns and lifts the curtain, cocking her head for me to enter. We step inside and she wastes no time in turning to me and speaking, though it takes me several tries to understand what is happening. I feel like I’ve been beaten. But I also feel…full. Sated. For the very first time in my life.

Wrapped in his arms, overwhelmed, it had felt…terrifying…exhilarating…an experience I will never forget even though I am far too afraid of him to ever want to repeat it. Not that he would offer. His words were intense and yet, I know that they were only that. Words. Not worth anything. I’ve learned over the course of my lifetime not to count on words for anything. Words offer no warmth. Words have no taste. Words are like the wind, empty and fleeting.

“Wh-where is what?” I stutter, catching only the tail end of what she’s said.

She gives me an annoyed look, her blonde braid frizzy and long and draped over her shoulder almost all the way down to her waist. “The prize he awarded you? Chief Olec and I are entitled to a fair morsel of it. Without us, you’d have been put out, whored out, or died six years ago when your parents did. Now, hand it over.”

The chill that inches across my chest moves like a spider, slow and spindly. I never had a particularly warm or affectionate relationship with Rosalind or Olec, but I did not foresee her ever trying to do something like this to me. I thought she wanted me to be free. I think back to the strange tension between her and the king last night though and my stomach pools with uncertainty.

I shake my head and whisper, “He didn’t give me anything.”

The sound it makes is the first thing that alerts me to the strike of her hand against my left cheek. My head whipping to the side is what confirms that I’ve been struck. Then comes the ringing in my ears and the flickering pain last, which lets me know that I’ve been struck hard. She hit me.

She’s hit me before, only once or twice and only because I’d done something wrong. I dropped a wooden plate, spilling hot food all over the ground. I broke a guiding rod on her loom. I spilled red wine on one of her shifts. Perhaps more than once or twice, but fewer than ten times. She’d never been overly cruel but this? Tears well in my eyes and my nose begins burning.

I cover my mouth with my hand and keep my gaze trained on my feet while she hisses in a rage, “You will get coin from the king if you have to steal it. Do you know how many males had already bid on your virginity? Do you know what Tori paid for it?” She sneers. “Cry all you want, but that will not change the fact that I have protected you from what males like Tori have wanted from you for years with this bidding war. Tori has won and now I cannot pay him back.

“You will need to pay, or I cannot be responsible for how he chooses to punish you for letting the king ruin you in this way. And you are ruined, make no mistake. You are too clearly used, even by a whore’s low standard. It will take weeks for those bruises to heal and Tori expects payment in three days. You will need to come up with eighteen silvers and nine gold coins to cover his payment alone, and you will need to pay me at least twice that for orchestrating it all and caring for you these past years.

“Do you understand me?” she says after a long pause in which I say nothing.

I shake my head, my fingers still clenched across my lips. “I… That is too much. I cannot come up with that.”

“If you bed every male in the village twice over, you might be able to pay Tori his fee. You will need to steal from the king to get more than that.”

I’m still shaking my head, flustered and confused. “Steal from the king?”

“Yes. Now, drop your shift and turn around.”

Panic assaults me. I take a half step back and meet her gaze. It is blood-red with fury. Her lips are twisted into a cruel line. “Did you really think I would let you humiliate me like that last night in front of the entire village? Drawing a bath for you? An orphan thrall? Turn around, you ungrateful little whore. I will not say it again.” I watch her pull a wire lash from between her robes. My lower lip trembles. She brought it here for me, intending to punish me all along. I haven’t done anything wrong…

But that does not stop me from dropping my shift to my waist and letting her slash her wires across my back once, twice, a third time. The pain burns, a ripe stinging that feels like the cool brush of nettles. I fall forward against the wall, thankful that she’s finished and didn’t hit me more. I’ve seen her hit other thralls with wild abandon, until their legs gave out and they collapsed onto the floor.

“Good,” she says at my back. I can feel my heartbeat in my fresh wounds and taste humiliation and fear in my mouth. “Now, get yourself cleaned up. You smell. And you’re dripping seed all over my floor like an animal. Go see Bruna about root’s wart as well. I will kill any bastards you produce, rather than help you care for them.” She’s gone in a flurry, the scent of blood lingering in her wake like a perfume.

After she leaves, I take a moment to sit on the ground and weep before following through on the tasks she’s assigned to me. But when I rise, it’s not regret that fills me. It’s not despondency, either. For the very first time in my life, my whole body comes alive with a cold, cold rage.