Page 16 of Her Dark Reflection

‘Forgive me, Your Majesty, Mrs Corkill requires Miss Beaufort’s immediate attendance.’ The words came from the butler with the rough, red hands who I’d seen the day before. He bowed low enough that he must have missed the flash of temper that tore across my face. The king raised his eyebrows at me.

‘Far be it for me to keep Mrs Corkill waiting. We might have to postpone terrorising priests.’

I kept my frustration at bay just long enough to rise from my seat, flash a coy smile, and bob a curtsey. ‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

The servant led me from the room, and I clenched my fists tightly as I followed him. Of course, Mrs Corkill would send for me the moment I was where I needed to be, the moment I had the king’s attention. And what did the old fuddy duddy want, anyway? Why would she want to see me?

We moved away from the lavish hallways and stairwells of the entertaining part of the palace and back to the nether regions of the household, into the unadorned servant’s quarters, where Mrs Corkill was waiting in a small office. As soon as I saw the deep frown scoring her face, I knew I was in trouble.

‘Thank you, Mr Guilcher,’ she said as she stood from the armchair she had been seated in. ‘Please stay, if you will. I may have need of you.’

Mr Guilcher inclined his head and lingered by the doorway.

Mrs Corkill then turned to me. ‘Miss Beaufort,’ she said stiffly. ‘Thank you for being so prompt. I am going to give you this chance now to be honest. Is there something you would like to confess?’

Immediately, my pulse took off, rushing in my ears like an overfed river until I could barely hear her. Someone had found me out. Someone had gone through my things and found the mirror or the apple, perhaps both. Someone had somehow realised the items were more than they appeared. I was going to be arrested. I would be tried. I would be sentenced to public execution and burned on a pyre by the gates of the palace.

‘Miss Beaufort?’ Mrs Corkill repeated. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I managed to choke out.

Her frown deepened, drawing her whole face into the expression, carving valleys into her forehead and around her mouth. ‘Very well. Please hold out your arms. I am going to search you.’

Search me? Did she suspect me of having other magical paraphernalia on my person? I did as she bid, feeling light-headed with panic as she began to pat at my skirts, my ears straining for the pounding of boots on the floor of the halls. Could I push her aside, dodge the butler, and make it out of the palace before the gendarmerie arrived? It was my only chance. If I stood trial, I would be convicted. People were convicted on far less evidence than the objects I possessed.

I felt her grope around in the pocket of my skirt before she pulled back and held something out between us.

I blinked.

‘This is not yours.’ She was holding a heavy, ornate silver fork.

‘No, it is not,’ I said slowly, my mind whirling.

‘I’m disappointed that you did not confess to stealing when I gave you the chance to do so. I will be reporting this incident to His Majesty, and I would not be surprised if you are to be dismissed from the palace immediately.’

‘I am… I don’t…’ I stuttered as took stock of this new situation, reeling back from the arrest and execution I had been sure I was about to face. There had been a fork in my pocket. She thought I had stolen it. A memory flashed through my mind: a stumble, hands on my skirt.Vanaria.

‘I hope you are not about to feed me an excuse when you have been caught in the very act.’

‘I am… deeply ashamed of myself,’ I said finally. ‘I just wanted some token of my time here, meeting theking.I didn’t think anyone would miss one tiny piece of cutlery.’ If I told her I’d been framed, she would never believe me. Better to own up to the act, display remorse, try and wrangle a tiny drop of sympathy out of this old dish rag of a woman. If I could convince her I hadn’t pocketed the piece to sell, I might be able to convince her I wasn’t desperate enough to steal again.

‘Each tiny piece of this cutlery is worth more than your dress and is my personal responsibility. And not to mention stealing from this household is stealing from your king,’ she barked, and I turned my eyes to the ground, trying to cloak my seething rage with a demeanour of regret.I would kill that red-haired wretch.

‘It was a stupid decision made in a moment of weakness. I’m so very sorry.’

She nodded curtly. ‘You’re at His Majesty’s mercy now. I suggest you return to your room and pack your belongings. I expect you will be permitted to remain the night, but you should be ready to leave in the morning.’

My face was hot with embarrassment and rage as I stormed back to my room. What now? I was about to be turned out of the palace overa fork. I wouldn’t be able to deliver on my end of my bargain. What would Draven do? Would he rescind the deal, take back the glamour, go and find himself another girl to turn into a queen? No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t just sit and wait to be thrown out onto the street. My future was not to scrounge through bins and beg for coins. Flashes of memory clawed at me, of the vulnerability of sleeping in an alleyway with the wet ground soaking into my skin, of the humiliation of being spat on, of a stomach hollow with hunger while I was fondled and kicked. It would be so much worse if I wound up there again, now that my face was ruined. I would have nothing left to sell that anyone would think worth paying for.

I was lying beneath the covers, waiting on Senafae when she returned to the room hours later.

‘Rhiandra,’ she called softly. ‘Are you awake?’

‘Has everyone gone to bed?’ I asked, sitting up slightly.

She bounded in and threw herself onto her bed. ‘I thought you’d gone off with some lord! I had no idea you’d come back here. Why did you leave so early?’

‘I wasn’t feeling well.’

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