The Prince and the Servant

What people didn’t understand about the Shadow Court was that it was not just shadows, it was a representation of the magic between the twilight. 

The magic that lived in the soul’s liminal dreamscape.

Sometimes Odessa pressed her nails into her palms to see if she was dreaming or awake in the realm of her existence.

She had been in the palace of Shadows from the time she was eight years old. Her step-father had petitioned for her to be a ward of the palace after her mother had passed, said she would be a good worker one day.

Odessa thought bitterly about this as she sagged her back against the stone walls. The sky was a pale maroon and swirl of dusky roses as the night sky fell into place. She didn’t get many quiet moments. And this was one of theft.

It was her only solace in the palace of rules.

Her kleptomania kept her feeling alive when her entire life was controlled by schedules, and royals with pompous attitudes, and managers who meant well sometimes. Tonight’s ‘pay bonus’ was a cigar from the royal reserves. It had been the King’s favorite selection.

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It was one of those nights that Lysander liked to stroll late, alone.

Lysander preferred being alone.

His title demanded much too much during the day however, he was never by himself. He always had meetings and papers to sign and think over. He had always been known as the precise child, the one who was meant to take over the throne when their parents passed.

It was just his mother and two younger siblings now.

He tried to not think about war and loss as he shoved his hands into his pockets, a habit he did not indulge in when he was in front of court.

That was when something stopped him.

Father?

He narrowed his eyes and walked towards the smell of smoke that wavered through the late night, early autumn breeze.

—--------

Odessa did not hear the footsteps; she was so lost in the taste of the smoke in her mouth as she let it linger on her tongue. She blew it out. Barrel aged tobacco, she noted. She felt her muscles loosen from the nicotine. She sagged further against the wall until she was sitting on the dirt next to the wall.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

She felt it before she heard it though, the feeling of being watched.

“So– This is where the palace mice run to when we aren’t watching?”

She froze, because it was not just any voice. It was not the manager she risked running into, or a peer who might look the other way.

It was the source.

It was the worst case scenario.

She opened her eyes. She slowly stood. She bowed her head respectfully after putting the cigar out on the stone wall and slipping it in her pocket.

“Prince Lysander.” She said, trying to make her voice even.

“Look at me.” He said, his voice was not furious, as Odessa had expected. It was curious, which might have been worse.

Odessa raised her eyes and looked at him through thick lashes.

He observed her. Not stared. Observed.

He was taking her in like a hypothesis, and then he nodded to her pocket, “How did you get that?”

Odessa already had an excuse, “A linecook was flirting with me, he gave it to me.”

A sharp smile came onto the prince’s face. “Oh really?” He leaned forward a bit, “Give me his name. I’ll be sure to make sure he is properly handled for the theft.”

Odessa couldn’t help the slight blood loss to her head, leaving her slightly tilted. She didn’t predict that part. “I don’t remember.”

“I don’t believe that. Are you protecting someone… or yourself?”

“I didn’t know we needed protection from the crown for such a minor infraction as petty theft.” Odessa did not stop looking him in the eyes. They were dark, so dark it looked like pools of ink had spilled.

“Interesting perspective when you are holding the king’s royal reserves in your pockets.”

Odessa frowned, thinking as quickly as she could, “No one had ever noticed me before.”

“So there was a before.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

His sharp grin grew, “Oh, I think I understand exactly what you meant.” He took her fingers into his, the evidence was still lingering in the scent of expensive smoke and ash.

She couldn’t breathe when he held her fingertips in his grip. It was not a harsh grip, it was… gentle.

He looked at her fingers and then at her face again, “The truth is this, I found a servant, smoking a cigar worth more than a month of her wages.” He hummed. “Who cannot tell me where she had gotten it from.” He let go of her fingertips, and she shoved her hands both into her apron pockets.

They were trembling; her hands did not tremble.

She didn’t know if it was fear, adrenaline, or something she didn’t even dare name.

It was all of those. She knew it was all of those.

“What are you going to do about it?” She finally cut to the heart of the matter. If he was going to punish her, she just wanted to know.

“You stole from my dead father’s private reserve of tobacco.” He stepped closer, there was barely any gap between them. He stood imposingly tall, but it was–

Odessa’s breath caught and she pressed her hands flat on the stone wall. She felt the grit against her palms. It was grounding.

She took a breath and looked at him in the eyes again. He did not look angry, still. He was purely intrigued.

“I think a suitable punishment will be to put you in my view. You will be my personal attendant for the next week. Seven days. I will keep you under my watch.”

Odessa’s eyes widened now, “Wait, what? I–” She paused trying to think, “Your majesty, I have no knowledge of how to attend a royal of your stature. I’m just a linen worker.”

“Your duties will be to be honest with me, be yourself, it will be simple tasks. I may send you to deliver messages, I may have you lay out clothing for me. It will be an easy routine. You will report to my room with my breakfast tomorrow at 5am sharp.

I will already be awake and dressed. I have a meeting at two that I will be spending the morning and afternoon preparing for. Bring a book or something to keep yourself entertained, you will sit in my study with me in case I need anything.”

Odessa felt herself nearly growing faint. All her years of stolen moments coming into a rush of bad decisions leading to this. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop the thrill she felt at being so–

Noticed.

Her pulse was thrumming. “And if I’m not honest with you?”

He smiled again, her pupils dilated.

“I’m very curious to see.” He paused and then looked her up and down now, “Tell me your name, I can’t just call you ‘little mouse’, now can I?”

Odessa’s fingers clutched at the stone wall, but there was nothing besides moss and dirt to clutch onto. The dirt got under her nails. “Odessa.”

“Odessa.” He repeated the name, not just tasting it in his mouth, but observing how it fit her. Was the name worthy of her? She felt her hands trembling harder, she pressed them deeper into the moss on the stone wall. He seemed content;

“Tomorrow, 5am, the kitchens will have the food prepared for you. I will inform the managers of the adjustments.”