Silence.
“Why would I want to do that, Baski?” he growled, his face expressionless. But fire banked in his eyes.
Baski could think of a few reasons, but she knew that all of them would be unappreciated by the king, who wore coldness as a shield.
Baski stared up at him. “This girl, Sally… you asked me one day why most people in Salem like her so much.”
Lucien nodded, his eyes on the both of them.
“She fed us all when we were still enslaved, My Lord. All the good food we ate there came from her.” She smiled through her tears. “She’d steal from the kitchen and bring it to the slave dungeons and share.”Baski stared at the girl crying on the floor beside her. “Sometimes she’d get caught by the guards and she’d get flogged. They gave out a lot of punishments to people caught stealing, but she never stopped bringing us food. All those feasts we ate; she stole from the royal kitchen and brought them to us.”
King Lucien’s eyes focused on Sally, not saying a word. But his face was no longer as cold.
Baski told the king the most egregious secret. “Sometimes, when a few guards caught her, she’d—”she swallowed tightly,“—she’d allow them to take sexual pleasures from her body so they’d let her go and not report her.” Her eyes met and held the king’s. “She brought all that food to us. All of it.”
Sally suddenly cried louder on the ground, sob after sob racking her throat. She didn’t know how Madam Baski found out about all that; she didn’t know anybody knew. Every slave of Mombana knew she fed them as much as she could, because King Cone always tried to starve them.
What they didn’t know were the things she had to go through to make sure she got food for them. She didn’t know that Baski knew. She didn’t know that anybody knew.
King Lucien moved from his position at last. He walked closer to Sally and held her arm, urging her to stand.“Is it true? What Baski said now, is it true?” he asked, staring at her teary face and red eyes.
Sally nodded gingerly. It was all true, even though there was still more to the story. So much more. She hadn’t been the only person who helped the people of Salem. Princess Danika also helped. She kept stealing the princess’s food until the princess found out one day. The princess didn’t punish her. Instead, she helped her steal food, too. She ordered a lot of food to her own chambers just for her to pack them and go give them to the slaves. Sometimes, the princess would sneak to the kitchen with Sally, and when they were caught, she’d order the guards away and threaten them. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
The princess’s father had once punished Danika with house arrest for one entire week because the guards reported seeing them in the kitchen. One week of not coming outside or seeing daylight. The king had wanted to whip Sally, but the princess had refused adamantly and cried to her father, saying that they should whip them both if he truly wanted to whip Sally.
That is just a little of the story.
Now why wouldn’t she help her princess when her princess was being tortured? She’d rather die than not do a thing about it!
The king was staring at her face so carefully, and he didn’t say a thing. Sally got to look at his face closely, the thick scar on his cheek that gave him a savage look.
At last, he pushed away from her and started out of the room. “Come and show me the dungeon, Sally.”
Sally led the king and Baski to the dungeon, where Vetta held Danika. When Sally entered the cave, Vetta was ready to laugh at her for her incompetence and stupidity and tell her to get out because no amount of pleading would save her princess from her hand. However, when Vetta opened her mouth, the words were immediately cut off when King Lucien strode right behind the little slave.
The surprise on Vetta’s face was clear.
“M-my king!” she stuttered in shock, bowing her head.
But none of them were staring at her. The king’s, Baski’s, and Sally’s eyes were on a very unconscious Danika, whose back was so bloody, the whip strokes were obscured—her skin torn open.
“Oh, Creator!” Sally started crying again openly but didn’t reach for her princess. The king was there, and he hadn’t ordered it.
“My king, I—”
“Save it, Vetta,” he growled in a low voice.
It was obvious that the king didn’t share her sentiment.
King Lucien’s eyes took in the sight in front of him. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His cold eyes got colder, his face hard as if carved out of granite. “Sally, call Chad,” he snapped at last.
Sally didn’t need to be told twice; she ran as if her whole life depended on it. She found Chad in the servant’s quarters and gave the king’s message breathlessly and sorrowfully.
Chad took off in a run with her, and together, they arrived back at the dungeon. “Yes, my king.” Chad bowed his head, awaiting command.
“Get her from the ground. Be careful not to hurt her wounds and take her to her room.”
Chad went to action immediately, hating the sight before him. How could the mistress do something like this? He started out of the room in a hurry, and Sally followed him, still sobbing. Baski turned to follow them, but the king called her name.
“Yes, my king?” she answered, so much sorrow unmasked on her face.
King Lucien didn’t say anything for a full minute, that usual unreadable expression on his face. His eyes finally held hers. “Use all the herbs you can find. Take some maids into the woods and gather the best of them, even the rare ones. Use Ankola if you have to but heal her wounds and—” He paused.
Baski waited for him to finish. Telling her to gather all these could only mean that…
“—Try your best to make sure she doesn’t bear the physical marks of this day on her skin,” he finished.
Baski understood. He wanted her to do everything possible to wipe the scars from her body. “Your wish is my command, My Lord.” With that, she turned and hastily followed Chad and Sally.
They left Vetta alone with King Lucien. He turned and stared at her.
“M-my king, I wanted to m-make her suffer for all th-the things they did to us! Baski shouldn’t use herbs on her. Let her feel the pain and carry the scars like we do!” she stated vehemently.
Silence.
Finally, he walked past her. “Wait for me in my chambers, Vetta.”
What?
Vetta watched as he followed behind Baski. She knew the king was following them. Vetta seethed with anger, her chest burning with jealousy.
Most of all, her heart was in her throat. She feared what the king had to say because of all that had happened.
But she decided not to let it get to her. She did nothing wrong. Nothing.