“Not for you,” she huffed. “I came because I needed to check her leg wound.” Freya turned to give me her attention. “Are you feeling better?” she asked hopefully. “I’m Freya, the one who bandaged your leg.”
I reached for the wound and was surprised that there was only minor pain. I stood, placing weight on my leg, and felt nothing. “It is, thank you. I’m Rhea.”
One eyebrow arched. “Rhea—?” she dragged it out, waiting for me to fill in my last name.
“Just Rhea.”
Freya’s eyebrow dropped, and she nodded. She took quick stock of the situation, glancing around the room for my belongings.
“Is this all she has?” Freya picked up my satchel.
“It is,” I answered.
Her lips pressed together in maternal warning. “It’s a good thing you came when you did. We are a bit short staffed at the moment.”
Molneer was already slipping his coat on to head back into the storm. He pulled a red stocking hat low over his ears and called over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Take care, my dear.”
“Not your dear!” Freya snapped back, but Molneer was gone. The door slamming closed behind him.
“Grrr, that dwarf is so infuriating.” She stomped her foot in anger before smoothing back her hair. She blinked a few times before remembering where she was. “Oh, come along.”
Folding the fur on the cot and placing the empty bowl of soup on the table, I followed Freya out the door, surprised when I was met by more stone halls lit by torches. The air was warm, almost humid despite being underground.
Freya turned left out of Molneer’s home and headed up a tunnel that almost immediately forked, and she took the right path. There was an old mining cart with a switch. Freya got inside and gestured for me to do the same.
“Where are we?” I asked, settling in, and holding onto the edge of the cart.
Freya released the brake, and we started along the track. “Below the castle in the old mines.”
“But I thought Molneer said that we couldn’t go into the mountain.”
“We’re not in the mountain. Not really. More like the sub level chambers of the palace. This is home to the salamander breeding dens, and where we keep our coal reserves. On the coldest of nights, we need more than just the salamanders.” The cart came to a platform, and we slowed to a stop inside a metal cage. Freya put on the brake and reached for a second lever on the platform. The cart rumbled and rose in the air by a mechanical system.
“This is amazing!” I leaned over to look at the machine that was climbing up a shaft higher into the mountain.
Freya didn’t seem overly impressed. “It’s just our coal cart system. I wouldn’t even be in them, but it’s the fastest way to reach Molneer’s home. Dirty little dwarf can’t take a room in the palace like the rest of us. He still wants to live underground.” She shuddered. “The dwarves are the only ones who dare tread deeper into the lower levels of the mountain.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“It’s dangerous, and we don’t dare wake what sleeps within.”
“What is it?”
Freya turned slowly to gaze at me. “A demon,” she warned.
“What kind of demon?” I asked, testing the waters.
Freya blinked in surprise. “Stars, you are the strange one. Most girls would have shuddered in fear or mocked a fainting. You seem almost eager.”
Dropping my gaze, I closed my mouth and pretended to be chastised. After the platform locked into place, she opened the cage door and we stepped out into a furnace room that was as hot as a sauna.
Sweat formed on my neck as we quickly exited, passing by shirtless hobs who were shoveling coal into the furnace. Giant copper boilers filled the room with pipes that ran up the walls and into the upper floors of the palace.
The hobs were different from our garden hob, Sneezewort. These hobs were muscled with brown skin that was dry and cracked from the heat. They tied their long ears back out of their face, and their noses were black from coal dust. I would have felt sorry for the creatures, except on the other side of the furnace room, there was a natural hot spring and a few of the hobs were swimming in the water. Others were laid out with a towel over their heads, enjoying the heat from the furnace. Just like the garden hobs preferred life outdoors, mountain hobs preferred heat. This was probably a wonderful life for them.
Freya caught my curious staring as we passed by a group of roughhousing hobs. One dunked another under the water. “We still use salamanders for heating our rooms and cooking fires, but nothing beats having instant hot water.”
I agreed and followed her up a flight of stairs to a wooden door.
“Here we are.” Freya pushed open the door and stepped into a wide-open hallway. The hall we were in happened to be near the kitchen. I could smell the bread baking in the ovens, and the hint of spices simmering. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to identify the exotic scents. Cardamom, curry, and cinnamon. The three Cs of exquisite cuisine.
“Let’s go. I’ll show you to your quarters and get you settled in.”
As I followed behind Freya, I had the first chance to take in my surroundings. Because the castle was built into the mountain, the western side of the castle’s light came from high windows or glass-paned ceilings, whereas the eastern side was filled with floor to ceiling verandas that were open to the fresh air. I hoped that wherever I stayed that I would have an open window.
I was wrong.
The servant’s hall was tucked away in a windowless tower. Light streamed through well-placed skylights and a series of mirrors that needed to be changed throughout the day to reflect to the lower levels. She entered a room on the third floor, which held two small trundle beds, each with a trunk for belongings. The other bed had a large lump covered with a red quilt. My keen eyes picked up the candle that was recently extinguished.
Freya pointed to nearest empty bed, and a trunk that was missing a lock.
“Store your belongings here, then we will see about getting you set with a job. What are your talents?”
I wanted to say ‘everyday curses and alchemy,’ but it would’ve revealed too much about my past. “I can cook. Clean. Mend.”
Freya had moved to the bed and swatted the large lump.
A squeal of surprise came from the quilt and a young girl sat straight up in bed. A book slid out from under the cover and thumped on the floor.
“Laziness will not be rewarded, Gail. Stop reading and get Rhea here some work clothes.”
Gail was a skinny, freckled girl with the most intense green eyes and auburn hair.
“If you weren’t my niece, I’d have you whipped,” Freya chided.
“Yes, Auntie.” Gail flung the blanket off her lap and quickly smoothed out her hair.
“Don’t call me Auntie,” Freya snapped.
The door slammed as Freya left and Gail gave a little jump in surprise. She turned, giving me an impish smile.
I picked up the book from the floor handing it back, but not before taking a gander at the title. I smirked, as it was a book of love poems. Gail snatched the book out of my hands and tucked it under her pillow.
“That’s private.”
“Sorry,” I said.
She cocked her head, looked me up and down. “Well, it’s a good thing you came because we could use all the help we can get right now.” She turned, beckoning me to follow her out the door.