Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (4 page)

“Thank you, Layna,” Devon acknowledged with
an odd smile.

Layna hoped her nodded reply didn't show her
surprise and fear that he knew her name. She hurried off, feeling
his eyes watching her, and she shivered again. This time it had
nothing to do with the cold.

Soon the rising sun burned away the last of
the morning fog, and her chill from the encounter diminished as the
warm rays thawed her cold body. Layna hummed as she spread grain
for the chickens, while methodically checking each of their nests
for eggs. She let her mind wander, and her thoughts turned once
again to Lord Gryffon, as they so often had been of late. It was a
constant struggle between her head and her heart. Her good sense
told her that no matter the outcome of her infatuation with the
man, it was bound to be bad news. Either she would end up with a
broken heart; as she let her feelings get out of control and
inevitably those feelings were never returned. She was, after all,
only a maid. Or, even if the impossible were to come true and he
were to return her interest, where would that get her? Quite
possibly a one-way trip into the basement accompanied by Devon.

A sharp pain in her hand brought her abruptly
back to her surroundings. She realized that in her day-dream she
had left her hand down where the chickens could reach it while
feeding them. One was busily trying to pick every last crumb from
her finger and had ended up taking some skin with it. Layna
withdrew her hand and sucked on the offending digit, where a tiny
droplet of blood was forming. She quickly threw the rest of the
feed down onto the ground, and the chickens converged to gobble it
up.

She hurried through the rest of the chore of
collecting eggs, and made her way back to the kitchen with her
prizes. When she arrived, the cook was already bustling around in
the overheated room, and he barely had time for a nodded
affirmation of the proffered eggs. Layna enjoyed the warmth, and
made her way to the servants' table where the cook had indicated
that breakfast was set out for them. She sat in front of her meal
of porridge and a leftover roll, and was surprised to see a note
next to the plate. She glanced around the room, but other than the
cook, who was paying no attention to her, no one was around.
Cautiously, she picked it up and saw that her name was scrawled on
the back.
Hmm
, she wondered,
who would be leaving me a
note?
She carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

“Layna,” it read, “My apologies for upsetting
you yesterday. Please accept this as a token of my desire for your
friendship. Very Sincerely, Gryffon (Just Gryffon).”

She tilted the note and a small charm
attached to a delicate chain slid out into her palm, a slight
tingle passing through her as she touched it. At first she was
elated, holding the necklace up to look at it, searching its design
for hidden meanings. No more than a split second later, however,
her senses kicked in and alarm overtook her. She quickly glanced
around again to see if anyone was looking before pocketing the
necklace.
If Jezebel ever finds out that Gryffon gave me a
gift
...she shuddered at the unfinished thought.

She'd decide what to do with it later; it was
too much for her to think about this early in the morning. She
stuffed the rest of the roll in her mouth and hurried out of the
kitchen to start the day.

*

Jezebel tramped through the halls of the
manor irritably.
W
here are all the servants when I need
one?
She passed by the kitchen and was almost knocked over by a
girl traveling much too quickly in her hallways. She opened her
mouth to scold the girl that running simply was not something that
was done here, but seeing as how she was in such a good mood, she
shut it again and merely smiled.
Well, I've been looking for a
servant and here is one in front of me
.

“My lady,” the girl curtsied prettily in a
gesture of subservience which further quelled Jezebel’s anger. “I'm
so sorry. I'm so clumsy.”

Jezebel looked her up and down slowly, as the
girl held the pose waiting for her response, and she pursed her
lips. The girl was very beautiful with a body toned by constant
physical labor. Jezebel felt her eyes narrow to slits as she took
in the long supple legs and ample chest underneath the battered
tunic.
The days of using my female charms to get my way are
behind me
, Jezebel reminded herself.
There is no reason to
feel threatened by this girl
.
S
oon I will be far too
powerful to worry about such nonsense.
Still, she couldn't help
the feeling of jealousy that threatened to well up inside of her.
She shook the emotion aside and thought instead of her plans.
Besides, by bringing the girl along, she could keep an eye on her
as well. “Yes, quite clumsy. Go change into something appropriate
for a trip to town and meet me by the main entrance,” she
commanded.

The girl looked startled by this instruction,
but simply nodded her understanding and hurried along to comply.
Jezebel strolled to the dining room and inspected the buffet of
food presented for her there. She daintily picked up a pastry and
nibbled on it, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
With all the
money I spend importing spices you would think that even the
incompetent fools in my kitchen would be able to come up with
something decently edible. But no, apparently good food is simply
beyond them. Being low-born as they are, they simply have no palate
for refined tastes
. She put down the pastry and meandered
instead towards the front door.

She was surprised to find that the girl was
already waiting for her there. She had been hoping to be able to
make a comment about having to wait. “Is that really the best you
have to wear?” she asked instead, improvising. “Perhaps you'll have
to pick up something more appropriate for escorting a lady while
we're out.”

Jezebel bared her teeth at the girl who wore
a slightly taken aback look before wisely murmuring an apology, and
Jezebel brushed by her to the awaiting carriage. She paused at the
edge of the carriage and looked back at the girl expectantly. The
silly little thing just stood there dumbly, with a puzzled look on
her face, and Jezebel sighed exasperatedly. She made a motion for
her to open the door. The girl’s pretty little mouth formed a
silent “oh” and she rushed forward, tripping in her haste.

Jezebel rolled her eyes at the girl's
awkwardness.
Really, the servants' ineptitude at times never
ceases to amaze me. I may have to have a word with Devon about his
hiring choice of this one...perhaps he let a part of his anatomy
other than his head influence his feelings and it caused a lapse in
his judgment
. Jezebel growled under her breath at the
thought.

The girl had finally managed to pull herself
together and had the door open with a hand held out for Jezebel to
hoist herself into the carriage with. Jezebel took the outstretched
hand roughly. She settled herself onto the plush cushions and
waited as the girl hopped in herself and took a seat opposite
Jezebel on the wooden bench provided there.

The carriage jumped into motion and Jezebel
gazed out the window at the passing streets. They rode by a
run-down home where, as they neared, Jezebel saw a woman with a
baby in her arms speaking with a guardsman. The words drifted to
her over the clattering of the horse's hooves and she listened with
growing annoyance to the pleading of the woman.

“Please, sir, without this money we won't be
able to buy food for my baby. She's only eight months old.” The
woman had dirt smeared on her face and her clothes were torn and
ratty, and the baby was in no better condition.

She shouldn't be allowed to reproduce like
that,
Jezebel thought with contempt.
Disgusting, vile
creature
.

“Please,” the woman continued to beg. “We
can't afford the taxes right now.”

Jezebel sniffed her disdain at the woman and
commented as they passed, “Isn't it sickening how many people are
out there looking for a free hand out?” She smiled cruelly at the
woman, whose gaze focused on their carriage for a moment, drawn by
her voice. “What's that woman doing going around making babies
instead of working harder so that she can pay her taxes?” Jezebel
drummed her fingers on her knee. “If it was up to me, I'd have all
those freeloaders thrown out of the city, but my father and other
important people insist on keeping them, saying it's our duty to
protect them in exchange for their taxes.” She waved her hand in
the air with a haughty flourish. “But look, this woman doesn't want
to pay her taxes. What if an army came marching through, and I just
decided that I didn't feel like it, so I wasn't going to send out
my guards that day. No, I don't think so,” she paused in thought.
“Not that it wouldn't be tempting to show them what would happen if
I didn't.”

Jezebel chuckled and looked at the servant
girl who was now staring out the window at the woman with a strange
look on her face. When the girl noticed that Jezebel had stopped
talking and was looking at her expectantly, she turned back and
made a sound of agreement.

Satisfied, Jezebel went on, “You should see
the way these people live. It's really quite sad. You'd think that
they would have some kind of instinct or something to clean up
after themselves, but they wallow in their own filth and then
wonder why they have plagues spreading through their populace.”

Jezebel ranted along this same vein for a
while, simply enjoying the ride, as the carriage made its way
slowly through the winding streets towards the center marketplace.
As they approached, the sound of the shops could be heard - vendors
hawking their goods, coins jingling in purses, and the general
commotion of a busy street. The driver halted the horses, and came
around the side to open the door and help the two women out. The
girl stood respectfully off to the side and folded her hands in
front of her, waiting for Jezebel to tell her what to do.

“Come along, dear, we're going to go pick out
new furniture for the sitting room; my father's treating me.”
Gathering her skirts around her, she flowed past the girl and
deftly moved between the people in the crowd towards the
woodworkers' guildhall.

*

Layna quickened her pace in order to keep up
with Jezebel who was pushing past people with no regard for anyone
around her. Given the arrogance she had just shown during the
one-sided conversation in the carriage, Layna wondered if she had
so much as an ounce of respect for anyone but herself. She failed
to see how Jezebel could sit there and believe that she was better
than everyone else simply because she happened to have been born
into a wealthy noble family, but it seemed to be a popular
sentiment among those born with status. Jezebel’s father was
powerful and well-known for his profitable investments into the gem
trades and the formidable group of well-trained guards he had to
move the gems, but Jezebel herself had nothing to do with his
business. Layna’s own family had been fairly well off compared to
many others in their town, but she had never thought herself better
than any of them because of it.

They reached the woodworker's guildhall, and
Jezebel marched carelessly past the line of people to make her way
inside. Layna followed, embarrassed by the looks she got from the
waiting people, but made sure never to lose step with her
mistress.

“Hello, Francis,” Jezebel gushed to the guild
master who sat behind a large oak desk just inside the
building.

He stood and greeted her with a kiss to her
outstretched hand, “Jezebel, how very wonderful to see you.”

“
Lady
Jezebel,” she corrected,
refusing to let his momentary lapse of etiquette pass without
notice.

“Of course, my lady,” he amended, bowing to
her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jezebel accepted the bow with a slight nod
and smiled brightly. “I’m redoing the sitting room so I'll need
some custom-made pieces as soon as you can possibly do them,
charged to my father's account of course.” She added, “It’s a
gift.” Jezebel held her hands in front of her, palms upwards with
her fingers interlaced.

Francis' eyes darted to follow the motion and
he paused with a peculiar look on his face for a moment before
answering. “Indeed, my lady, and a most beautiful gift it will be
for such a beautiful woman. If you could follow me please.” He gave
another half bow and motioned with his hand towards a back
room.

Jezebel started forward, then stopped and
glanced back over her shoulder at Layna. “Here,” she said extending
her hand with a few coppers in it. “Go pick me out something from
the sweets cart. I won't be long.” Layna nodded and started to turn
away, but paused as Jezebel added, “Oh, and do get something for
yourself as well. Anyone who knows how to barter should be able to
get two with that.” Layna curtsied at Jezebel's insincere smile and
continued to make her way back outside, glad to be out of the
company of the woman.

Out in the busy street, Layna took a moment
to orient herself before she spied the sweets cart over in a
corner. She weaved her way through the crowd and contemplated the
choices. They all looked amazingly delicious to Layna, but she had
heard enough horror stories from the cook to know that Jezebel was
much fussier. She eventually decided to get a pastry she had once
heard the cook saying that Jezebel had enjoyed. It had been big
news in the kitchen that he had been able to find something that
Jezebel had nothing unfavorable to say about. Layna was able to
procure just one of the tarts with the few coppers, having already
known that there was no way she would be able to barter for two of
any of them with the measly amount she had been given. She sighed
inwardly and her mouth watered at the sight of the warm icing
dripping down the sides.