Page 24 of Tree of Ash (The Runic Saga #2)

Halla quickly learned the difference between servants and slaves. Servants were paid, and although it was a low position, a servant still maintained an air of freedom and worth.

A slave like Halla, on the other hand, was property.

The short, hard-eyed mistress of the servants’ quarters had reinforced this by stripping Halla and pushing her into a tub of water before it turned warm.

The bandage on her neck slid free in the soapy water and earned a look of disgust from the mistress.

She’d dressed Halla in a simple uniform of pants and a long shirt, then assigned Halla to another woman.

The pressed apron around the second woman’s waist distinguished her as a servant rather than a slave.

As Halla shadowed her out of the room, she looked toward the door where Kai had disappeared.

She stopped, hesitant in her words. “I came with someone else. Do you know where he is?”

The maid pursed her dark lips, tucking a stray brown hair behind her ear and smoothing out her bun. “Male slaves work outdoors. Best not to concern yourself with anyone but yourself. Come girl, there’s work to be done.”

Reprimanded, Halla tucked her chin to her chest and scurried after the maid, who didn’t even ask Halla’s name. Perhaps that was intentional; property didn’t have names. She shivered as cool air scraped across her revealed brand.

But even her growing isolation couldn’t shake Halla’s awe as she wound through the mansion.

The main house was far more elegant than the servants’ quarters had been.

The only artwork she’d ever seen had been Mamma’s drawings in Pappa’s storybook, but even she could recognize the paintings on the walls were superior in every way.

As Halla heeded every instruction the maid ordered—making beds, gathering soiled clothes, emptying the trash from the bustling kitchen, restocking logs in fireplaces—she only grew more aware of the insignificance of her farm that had been her whole life.

And of the discrepancies between the aristocracy and the farmers outside the walls.

The only glaring lack of the home was in its occupants until Halla realized that the maid was intentionally steering them away from any potential run-ins.

After days confined to a small barrack, Halla’s legs and back tired quickly of the work, but she was determined to keep pace.

The only nagging concern on her mind was Kai.

“This is the library,” the maid explained, bringing Halla’s mind back to the present and pushing through the giant oak doors inlaid with the runic symbols of the gods.

Halla resisted the urge to reach out and touch them, but instead accepted the feathered duster the maid handed her.

Worry creased the lines around her eyes.

“Every book must be dusted, but the master does not like us to be in his study long. Do this quickly.”

The maid set about her task without further explanation.

Halla’s fingers found the nearest book and plucked it from the shelf, removing the dust underneath.

Without meaning to, she flipped through the pages, the words greeting her like familiar friends in a strange place.

She’d never seen so many books in one place.

Though Halla tried to move quickly, her fingers paused again and again to stray through the pages of the books.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a familiar story greeted her from the pages.

She’d only just begun to read about the formation of the five kingdoms when the book was snatched from her hands.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” a harsh voice said.

An open palm cracked against her face, sending her crashing to the ground.

The pain in her face was doubled by the pain in her neck.

A man towered over where she lay, stunned, on the ground.

His blond hair was buzzed short, and authority emanated from his posture.

He turned a threatening finger on the maid. “You, maid, explain yourself.”

The woman’s trembling voice came from behind Halla. “She is new, sir; she did not listen to my instructions.”

Halla flinched as the man stepped over her toward the maid. “Then it is your fault for not keeping her in line.”

There was a sharp crack followed by the woman’s muffled cry.

Halla dared not move. The master of the house—he could not be anyone else—turned back to Halla.

His dark green eyes were flat and empty, a strange contrast to the angry twist of his lips.

“I would say a whipping might teach you, but your brand tells me you’re not the type to learn. ”

Halla trembled, closing her eyes as her tongue raced behind closed lips, uttering prayers to the gods.

“Father?”

A soft voice came from the door, inviting Halla to open her eyes.

Standing frozen in the doorway, the girl looked to be around Halla’s age, though significantly taller.

Her pale pink dress was several shades darker than her fair skin.

With a bow perched atop her platinum curls, the girl looked as though she’d stepped out of the artwork that hung on the walls.

But her face was beautiful, open and sweet with kind eyes.

They were the exact same shade as those of the master of the house, but hers were alive with compassion.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, my darling.” The change in his tone was astonishing. It was as though he’d become an entirely different person capable of compassion and rationality.

But the girl looked at the book lying on the ground beside Halla. Her eyes brightened as she picked it up. “Ah, thank you for finding my book.”

Halla gaped at her, unsure of what to say.

“You sent her in here?” he asked, doubt coloring his tone.

“Of course I did. I needed the book for my lessons. I saw Hovmester bring her and the boy this morning. I figured she was my gift. You always give the best gifts. Thank you, Father.” The girl fluttered forward, pressing on the tips of her toes to kiss her father’s cheek.

She motioned toward Halla. “Come along.”

Halla looked to the maid for guidance but the woman was studiously looking at the floor. With no other choice, Halla rose to her feet, keeping her head bowed as she passed the master and followed the daughter into the hall.

“Walk behind me, not beside me,” the girl whispered when Halla caught up. “You’ll get in trouble.”

Halla fell in step. They passed through many floor-level rooms and ascended the grand staircase that gracefully curled up onto the second floor.

The girl led Halla down the hall, then into a spacious room.

Crossing the threshold, Halla suppressed a gasp.

Decorated in lace and flowers, the room was fit for a Princess.

With an elegance beyond her years, the girl sat herself at a tea table by the tall window that looked out into the back gardens.

“I’m Saessae.” She spoke her words around her smile, adding a slight lilt to the end of her sentences. “But around the others you’ll have to call me Miss Saessae. You are new here, aren’t you? Where did you come from? Who is the boy who came with you? What’s it like outside the Second Wall? What—”

Halla opened her mouth but found the words wouldn’t come out even if Saessae stopped talking long enough to allow her to answer, which she never did.

Halla’s feet had yet to find their solid ground in this new place, her brand burned , and her ears were still ringing from the master’s blow, making it nearly impossible to wrap her mind around the questions Saessae continued to fire in her direction.

As if reading Halla’s thoughts, Saessae paused mid-question. “Sorry, that was too much.” She took a breath, the perfect image of composure. “Let’s just start with your name.”

“H-halla,” she stammered.

“Where did you come from?”

Halla bit her cheek. “I was taken by the thraell in the Outer Wall.”

The delightful look vanished from Saessae’s face. “I don’t like the thraell . I’m sorry they took you, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why?” The word fell out of her mouth before it could be stopped.

Saessae plopped her chin into her palm. “It’s boring since Mother’s death. There’s no one to talk to. Everyone is too scared of my father.” She paused. “He isn’t kind anymore.”

Whether it was the sense of shared loneliness or shared grief, Halla couldn’t resist lowering the barriers around her heart. “Is that why you helped me?”

“I helped you because you needed it.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve been asking my father for a companion for months. I figured I might as well use the situation to my advantage.”

“A companion?”

“He wouldn’t like that term. A personal slave is what he would call you, but I’d much rather you were my friend.” There was a hesitancy in her statement as though she feared Halla’s rejection instead of the other way around.

“Oh.” Halla stumbled over her words. “Of course, it’s just . . .”

“Yes?” she urged.

Halla’s fingers played with the seam of her shirt. “I came here with someone, and I just want to know if he’s alright.”

“The boy, right? Father keeps the male slaves outside mostly.” She glanced over her shoulder and out the window. “But I know of a way that you could talk with him.”

“Really?” Hope sprouted in her chest.

A surprising glint of mischief glinted from Saessae’s eyes. “We’ll have to be sneaky. We’ll wait until after my father has gone to sleep, in the darkest part of the night.”

Halla hesitated. Saessae had saved Halla from her father’s brutality, but even so, the burn on the back of her neck ached a warning. Still, if this was the only way to check on Kai . . . “Let’s do it.”