The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch. 9: Morning Confrontations

The next morning, I woke earlier than usual but took my time getting out of bed. I hadn't bothered washing my face last night, and I bypassed it again this morning, only half-heartedly attempting to smooth out the smudges beneath my lashes.

I pulled on one of my old day dresses and tried not to compare it to last night's gown. The makeup and the hair were fun, but that wasn't the life for me. I was made to stand beside a princess, not stand out.

With nothing else to do after dressing, I made my way toward Astreia's room. She would hate me for waking her up, but I had to be sure she was unharmed. I assumed something like the escape of a suspected Deathsinger would be cause for waking half the castle, so likely the poor girl in the cells remained a prisoner. Not being clued in about the princess's entire plan made it difficult to determine whether we were successful in our endeavors last night.

"Come on," I huffed, stuffing my hands beneath my armpits to stave off the morning cold. If I'd gone through that kind of emotional torture last night with nothing to show for it, I was going to have a breakdown.

"Morana, what are you doing?" Astreia spoke behind me as I extended my hand to knock on her door, and I turned to find her standing in the hall with bare feet and shoes in hand.

Like me, she wore last night's makeup, but where mine had been gently smudged by a pillow, hers was a mess of smears and tears. I squinted at a particular blot on her jaw and blushed. That was not makeup.

Clearing my throat, I replied, "Checking on you, but I see you managed just fine last night."

Astreia looked a little sheepish as she stepped around me. "Well, enough I suppose."

"Are we all right?"

She hesitated, looked around, and nodded. "We're excellent. I'll talk to you later."

The door clicked shut in my face, and I scrubbed my eyes, tampering down a scream. This was the absolute last time I let the girl pull me into one of her schemes. Here I was up early because my brain was so frazzled over her safety, while she spent her evening rolling around in someone else's bed.

I spun on my heel. Perhaps I could go back to bed and catch up on the sleep I missed last night. Beatrice herself would have to drag me out of my room if she wanted me to join the other maids.

As if thinking of the maids had summoned her, I saw a flash of red hair peer around a corner. Joreen. What was she doing here? She typically worked in the kitchens. I stepped out of her line of sight and watched.

She scanned the corridor and chewed on her bottom lip. Clutched in her hands was a bulging burlap sack, and even from this distance, I could hear glass clink whenever she shifted from one foot to the other.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, unable to stand it any longer. She was up to something forbidden. That much was obvious. "Are you trying to get thrown into the cells?"

Her face went pale at the sound of my voice, but the moment her eyes landed on me, red flooded her cheeks. She lifted her chin so smoothly Astreia would have approved and sneered down her thin, pointed nose.

"It's rather early for you to be up after such a late night, isn't it?" Joreen purred.

"You should be more worried about what would happen if anyone found you so far away from the kitchens."

"That's none of your concern." Glass bottles clanked as she shoved the sack behind her back. "I have good reason to be here."

"What's in the bag?"

"Nothing."

I lunged and snatched the bag from her hands, leaving her too shocked to retaliate as I untied the string. A pungent earthy scent wafted out and choked me, burning my eyes and causing me to second guess the wisdom of sticking my hand into the contents.