Cage the Darlings Read online

  Cage the Darlings

  By Elora Bishop

  Copyright © 2011 Elora Bishop

  Published at Smashwords

  All rights reserved

  Cover image © Annnmei | Dreamstime.com

  Cover design by Elora Bishop

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For my beloved--

  you make, of my life, great magic.

  ...[the timid blackbird]--she that, seen,

  Will bear black poisonous berries to her nest,

  Lest man should cage the darlings of her breast.

  -- from "The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies" by Thomas Hood

  Normally, bedding a well-to-do lady is not a dangerous occupation. But the Duchess Lucretia had just fallen asleep, and I was busily trying to undo the clasp on the string of diamonds about her neck, and if she happened to wake up at that moment, it'd be my neck on the line. Hence the danger.

  Name's Envy, and I'm all vice--just, strangely, not the one I was named for. The tip of my tongue darted out of the corner of my mouth as I steadied my hands and finagled with the unyielding clasp with a delicate fingernail. Lucretia moaned in her sleep and wrapped one languorous arm about my torso. I froze, hearing my heart knock loudly against my bones, almost certain that its racket would wake the sleeping duchess. But, no, she continued to snore loudly, and desperation made my actions a little more frantic as I struggled with the clasp.

  This would never do. I was the greatest thief in the land, I reminded myself, cajoling, as I felt the perspiration begin to bead upon my skin. I willed myself to calmness and--as if the Goddess Luck herself was rewarding me--or heard me--the clasp gave way.

  I tucked the necklace into the pocket of my discarded coat just as the Duchess snorted a little in her sleep, waking. She blinked twice and looked me up and down, alarm crossing her face before she remembered how, exactly, we'd just spent the past few hours, and then she smiled, a wide, brilliant grin that made my heart knock again. I returned the grin, bowing, sweeping up my clothes in what I hoped was a roguish manner.

  "That was lovely... Will I see you again?" she murmured, voice all cake and honey. I bent down and kissed her brow, pulling on my skirts as I did so.

  Here's the thing: I'm not a bad person. I just have vices. Totally different, right? I sleep with the ladies of the palace, and I steal something from each one of them. My target isn't usually as noticeable or outlandish as a string of diamonds, stolen from a naked lady's neck and squirreled away. I felt the need for a challenge today. Don't want to get rusty.

  I bent down again, pressing my lips a little longer against Lucretia's brow. She and her husband had an arrangement of sorts; she'd told me about it when my shirt was half off. She enjoyed a different girl every night. I wouldn't be missed.

  And, judging by the row of gilt boxes and treasure chests along the far wall, neither would the string of diamonds.

  Fully clothed, I blew her a kiss and made my dramatic exit, edging out of the bedroom door until it was shut behind me. Out and through the Duchess' living quarters, and I was in the palace proper.

  Belinda--dear, faithful, out-of-her-mind Belinda--was almost knocked cold when I threw open the Duchess' door. She'd been crouched, peering through the keyhole, but was able to leap away just in time.

  "Are you trying to give me away?" I hissed, helping her up. Together, we darted down the corridor, around the corner and into one of the many "secret" chambers beneath the portrait of Queen Lainia, She-Who-Decreases-The-People's-Taxes. The secret chamber was really not so secret and usually used by servants to move unseen through the palace.

  For that's what we were, after all--plain, innocent, totally-beneath-your-notice servants.

  "No one saw me," she retorted, holding out her hand, eyebrows raised. I cast a glance down the narrow hall, but there wasn't anyone else in the chamber. I dug the diamond chain out from beneath my left breast, handed it to her.

  "Still warm," she breathed, touching it to her cheek almost reverently. Then she laughed, a sound like bells with a bit of bite to it. "It looks like the necklace she wore to dinner. Really, Envy, did you steal it from her neck?"

  I winked at her, took my prize back, indelicately buried it beneath my bosom once more. "And what if I did? It's my greatest catch yet."

  Belinda was still smiling, but it was clouded now, merriment leaking from her as she frowned. "Don't you think you might have been caught if…"

  "I don't get caught," I said, nose upturned, tone imperious. "I mean, really, Belinda." I tugged at the cord about my neck, the charm resting at the point of my collarbones. It was heavy and warmed by my skin, a reassuring presence. The small clay creation was the shape of a sun, a symbol of Goddess Luck, and my prized possession--the only thing I had to remember dear Mother by, not that she'd want to be remembered by a charm she, herself, had stolen. She'd probably want to be remembered for her greatest heist, the one they caught her at.

  Thievery kind of runs in the family.

  Belinda rolled her eyes, turned away. "Whatever. When you finally get caught…"

  "I don't get caught," I repeated, my litany, my truth, my prayer. Belinda shook her head, and together we walked down the corridor, shoulder to shoulder.

  "When are you going to get tired of this? I hate being a maid," said Belinda, rubbing at her wrists. She sighed, stretched overhead. "I mean, it's beneath us, is what it is. We're thieves! Shouldn't we be thieving?"

  "May I point out," I began, and she rolled her eyes again, sighed as I prepared for my lecture. I mean, it was a good lecture. It said true things. "It's autumn," I said, and jerked my thumb to the stone wall, to the beyond, which included a cold and dreary rainstorm that hadn't let up for days. "Do you want to go back to Vice Quarters where not a single roof is leakless, or do you want to live out the cold months in here, like kings?"

  Belinda laughed. "Hardly like kings. We spend all day scrubbing stone floors, and for what? So you can collect pretty baubles and carry out some stupid little challenge for yourself…"

  "It's not stupid," I huffed, crossing my arms. "I will sleep with every lady in the castle, and I will steal something precious from each one, and then…"

  Belinda stopped, turned to face me, hands on her hips. Her eyes were sharp, scathing, un-calm-downable. "And then what, Envy? Then what are you going to do? When is it going to be enough for you? When will you have proven yourself?"

  I stood my ground, hands in fists at my sides…but I had no real answer for her. Her gaze softened when she saw my expression. She touched my arm, conciliatory.

  "You've grown less and less careful," she whispered, leaning her head close, eyes unblinking. "What will we do if you're caught? What, exactly, are you trying to prove?"

  I shrugged away from her, shaking my head. I couldn't answer her, because I didn't know myself. She was right. Of course she was right. Belinda was always right. I hadn't been careful lately…or, perhaps, at all. I pushed my luck each time, each mark, almost to the breaking point. I made every conquest more elaborate, more impossible, and yet I still met with success.

  In the dark of night, I sometimes wondered the most ludicrous of things: was I…bored?

  As if she could hear my thoughts, Belinda snorted again, threaded her arm in mine. We continued down the hall. "Promise me you'll be more careful?" she said, after we'd gone a little way. "I can't be the best friend of a dead Envy."

  "Dead…" I laughed a little. "The king's soft! He doesn't kill thieves. Why do you think there's so many of them?"

  "A handless Envy. A dungeoned-and-starved Envy," said Belinda, persisting.

  "You've thought of all sorts of horrid punishments, haven't you? Such a charming girl," I murmured, but the joke fell flat. Belinda was watching me with shrewd eyes.

  "Promise me," she said again, insistent.

  "Of course, of course," I muttered, testy.

  My fingers were crossed. Of course.

  *

  It probably says something for the state of the kingdom that thieves would rather spend a dreary autumn and winter as maidservants than freemen. I stripped out of my petticoats and overcoats and too-many coats and dove into my night shift, shivering from the cold the stone walls radiated into the room. It had been an unspeakably chill autumn thus far, and it would only get worse. Belinda was crazy--go back to Vice Quarters! Ha!

  I tugged at my sun medallion and then scurried into my tiny bed, burrowing under my covers much like a field mouse in hay. If any of my conquests could see me now! I put my arms beneath my head and stared up at the dull, gray ceiling.

  Belinda, in her room next to mine, knocked three sharp raps on the wall, our code for, "Good night! I hope you're still alive by morning." We'd practically grown up together, squabbling and quarreling and then becoming the best of friends in our hovel in the Vice Quarters, every night knocking our codes back and forth. Now I knocked once, then added two more raps. It mean, "Don’t worry. I will be."

  I was restless, thoughts roaming in ever-widening loops. I remembered the expression on Belinda's face, her palpable worry. Was it really that bad, taking so many risks? Was I being…stupi
d?

  I needed some sort of physical reassurance. I got up silently, slipped out into the far-too-cold air of the room, and then lowered myself down to the floor, pressing my fingers against a floorboard that gradually yielded beneath them.

  There was my great treasure, stored in a tiny burlap sack. Really, not that great: a few hairbrushes, some earrings, a small book, and three necklaces. The first two necklaces were gaudy things made of paste; this last one was the crowning glory. It glittered even in the dark, and I touched it gingerly, mouth twisted in a frown.

  I felt…weird. Odd. Like something was missing or out of place or I'd forgotten to do a needed task entirely. I loathed that feeling. It crawled along the edges of my mind until it curled up within me, here to stay and positively gloating. There was something wrong, and I could feel it, but I couldn't lay my finger on what it was, and it was driving me slightly mad.

  My instincts had kept me from death or the promise of Very Bad Things so many times in my life, I'd lost count. Thieves without instincts are dead thieves. I patted the bag back beneath the floorboard and stood, stretching, hesitant.

  Oh, well, hell. I took up my shawl, shoved my feet into the drastically uncomfortable servant shoes and melted out of my room and into the corridor like a ghost. Maybe a really late walk through freezing cold castle passages when I had to be up at the crack of dawn was just the thing I needed!

  I rolled my eyes at myself, burrowed even deeper in the shawl. This was stupid. But I didn’t turn back.

  And I didn't have to work tomorrow, after all. It was the Blackbird Feast. Rising at dawn or not, that was something to look forward to.

  As I took the steps down from the servant's tower, my thoughts moved from the Blackbird Feast--my favorite day of the year--back to the dalliance of the Duchess Lucretia. She hadn't been extraordinary, had laid back on her pillow and batted false eyelashes at me, and her little fluffy dog had watched from his tasseled pillow, and that was just a little strange. At least I could check her off now. I blew on my fingers, let myself out into the east wing of the palace, from the tower.

  Ten ladies down. Only ninety or so to go.

  Perhaps that was a bit haughty of me. I wasn’t certain all of the ladies could be charmed by my wily ways, perhaps weren't even attracted to the female aspect of mankind, but it didn't matter. I would do my best to sway them. Give it the old royal effort, as it were.

  My feet traversed the worn paths I took on a daily basis, and finally through the kitchen and out into the gardens, beneath an embarrassment of stars. It was so cold, but I stood still, bathed in that light, and stared upward, transfixed with wonder. The stars were so bright tonight. So…shiny. My fingers itched to grasp them out of the skies, twist them about my neck like that string of diamonds I would never be able to wear, never be able to feel cold and dripping down over my skin. I stared up at the night sky, and I was surprised at the ache that echoed in my heart. This sky was too beautiful--a beauty I couldn't understand. It made me feel small.

  A murmur, a soft giggle. My senses pricked as I ducked down, crouched beside the hedgerow, heart quickening as I heard two pairs of steps dancing closer. Shit. It was a sort of unspoken rule amongst the servants that no one was allowed outside past the brass bell's toll, and this was well past the brass bell's toll. I slunk lower, feeling the dig of earth into my palms, willing myself as invisible as possible.

  I didn't see feet so much as skirts wherein feet probably dwelled. Two skirts, and they were close to me, but even closer to each other. They darted into view, and I heard laughter again, two voices like music, a murmur, a soft shush, and then…

  I bit my lip, listening to them kiss. I didn't recognize the skirts, but that was not surprising. The upper ladies at the castle had a myriad of outfits to choose from, new ones made daily. No, but I did recognize one of the voices--Elizabeth, a lower duchess. They sat down on the little carved bench, and, keeping the hedgerow between myself and the pair, I was able to get a good look at them. Elizabeth and Rose. Not surprising. They'd been making moon eyes at each other for the better part of a fortnight, sighing with utmost vigor into their pudding each evening at the state dinners. This would make my self-proclaimed challenge a bit harder, if they began to see one another, but…

  My thoughts were silenced when Elizabeth grasped Rose about the waist. I could see their expressions, star-brightened, and when Elizabeth leaned over Rose, when she sighed and drew her closer, something in my heart did something very strange. Something in my heart...fluttered.

  "You are my greatest treasure. All of my wishes, my hopes, my dreams, they reside in you," she murmured before their lips met, before there was an ardent clasp together and not a bit of space between those two bodies. Funny, how they looked almost merged; only the color of their dresses distinguished them.

  I rolled my eyes at the patent drivel Elizabeth had used to woo Rose. Not that it hadn't worked. But even on my worst day, I could think of lines of poetry faster than that, and certainly something less well known than "The Bard's Urging for Love," which every schoolgirl passed back and forth to each other in their primer books. I crossed my arms, smirked to myself as their murmurs turned more impassioned. When I got up to execute my escape plan--run very quickly toward the kitchen door--I wasn't even that stealthy about it. They didn't have the ability to hear anything but each other.

  And still, at the doorway, I paused, hand on the sill, head turned back, watching them. There had been such a look of adoration on Elizabeth's face. I had never seen anything like that.

  My heart tightened up, I sighed at my own stupidity, and I closed the door behind me with a resounding click.

  No one but court ladies had time for poetry. Or love.

  *

  I woke up before Belinda came for me, already struggling into the only dress I owned, besides the one the palace made me wear. It had been my mother's dress and was--of course--a stolen object. Once, it had been bright blue, like the sky after a particularly spectacular storm, but now it was dull and gray. But it was soft, shapely around my bosom, and the ladies seemed to like me in it.

  When Belinda finally came, knocking once and twice, then entering, I looked up from the edge of the bed where I was ramming on my ill-fitting slippers--not the servant's shoes, not today.

  "How do I look?" I winked up at her. "Dashing?"

  Belinda laughed, offered her arm. "You look completely woo-able."

  The corridors down to the palace proper were abuzz with servants, all wearing the best clothes they owned, swapping thrown-away bits of lace from the seamstress rooms to dab in their cuffs, a mockery of the handkerchiefs of the nobles, but still pretty, if you didn't look too closely.

  It was the Blackbird Feast day--finally. My favorite day of the year, and not even because no one in the kingdom was allowed to work--especially the servants.

  We went down the five thousand steps in the curling spiral staircase to the servants' exit, pushing past a milling group of some of the higher maids, gossiping about the ladies. I heard "Elizabeth and Rose!" and laughed a little as we walked past. Belinda cast me a sidelong glance, but I shook my head, mouthed, "I'll tell you later."

  And then we were out of the palace and devoured up by Angotha.

  The city of Angotha was old and beautiful, like a stately lady--but if you were going to continue to consider her a lady, you might also admit that she was senile and a bit motheaten at the edges. Angotha had not been a prosperous city for centuries now. At least, that's what Ma said. She'd told me that, once, it had been one of the richest inland meccas in Sapphira, something I rolled my eyes at as a child, because it sounded so completely ludicrous as to seem an almost-lie. I couldn't imagine the streets teeming with rich nobles, as she told me they had, the upper houses filled with singers and artists and visiting queens and knights. Now, the crumbling roads were occupied by old spinsters who had inherited the houses and let them fall to ruin. It was not uncommon for the steeples of the older habitations to come crashing down into the streets after a particularly boisterous rainstorm.

  Which, I suppose, explains the rack and ruin of Vice Quarters.