sleep, it will be your responsibility to tend the fireplace and turn the crank on the barrel organ.”
“Barrel organ?” I’d never heard of it, or seen it, but followed Michelle just the same. She turned back down the hall, toward her own room.
“Yes. I need the music to help me sleep. It drowns out the way the wind bangs and moans around here, when a storm begins.” She glanced at me over her shoulder and her lip quirked. “Don’t worry,” she soothed me. “It’s so simple, a monkey could do it.”
Nell
I t didn’t take Michelle long to fall asleep. It was amazing how easily she slid into the lap of luxury, how naturally she fit the mold of a spoiled princess, no matter in what time period or country or even dimension it occurred. She had been given the room which used to be mine when I lived in the palace. The bed remained near the window, hence her need for the fire to be constantly maintained—or else the room became quite frigid—and her need for the barrel organ to be played, drowning out the roar of the storms, which would come and go, throughout the course of the day and night.
Now it was afternoon sometime, the sky overhead a low slate. The clouds were so thick and constant, it seemed nightfall was never more than an hour away, even in the early afternoon.
I sat on a stool near the fire, enjoying its warmth—I supposed, once I got used to deflecting Michelle’s casual barbs, this world was better than the dungeon—with a barrel organ wedged between my knees. The barrel organ was the size of a small child, and it rolled on a set of well-oiled wheels for easy mobility. When the crank was turned, sheet music rolled past in a little window, indicating the song which was being played by the strange pipes housed within. It was automatic, and only capable of playing a handful of tunes. I’d been playing the same melody, a haunting but relaxing lullaby which I hoped would keep Michelle asleep… forever, frankly, and I didn’t care enough to switch out the sheets. Though my arm was tired, I continued to crank the organ, staring out the window at the sudden snowstorm hailing down on Everwinter. The weather here reflected the people of the city: chilly, then solemn, then violent. At times the air was clear, and then the sky would darken and snow would pummel the earth in chunks the size of insects.
The door creaked open behind me and I jolted, turning to behold Lethe stepping inside. When he saw that I was here, too, he paused. I imagined it would be awkward to go to see your wife and instead find your former mistress, who you still loved in your own twisted way, sitting with her.
“Nell,” he whispered, closing the door.
My throat constricted. If Michelle awoke and found us speaking together, I shuddered to think what she would do to me. She was spiteful, and more toward me than any other female. Theon had not been swayed toward her during our time apart, and had gone on to marry me, which had hurt her enough. To see that her own husband whispered with me in some clandestine manner at her bedside? She’d have me beheaded.
“I didn’t think she’d really do it,” he said, treading toward me. I almost recoiled from him, and I was glad that the barrel organ rested between us. I continued to turn its crank— plink, plink, plunk, plunk, plunk —to disguise the sound of our voices. “I told her not to… or that, if she must humiliate you, to put you somewhere that I wouldn’t have to see it.”
I grimaced. Theon would never have said anything so gutless and self-serving to his wife. He didn’t mind if I was humiliated as a palace slave. He merely did not want to be made uncomfortable by watching it.
“Well, she’s your queen, Lethe.” Plink, plink. Plunk, plink, plunk, plunk. “She’s more ice dragoness than I could ever be, I’ll tell you that.”
“It’s almost frightening.” Lethe knelt at my side and I winced, wishing that he would get off his knees. Michelle couldn’t see
“Barrel organ?” I’d never heard of it, or seen it, but followed Michelle just the same. She turned back down the hall, toward her own room.
“Yes. I need the music to help me sleep. It drowns out the way the wind bangs and moans around here, when a storm begins.” She glanced at me over her shoulder and her lip quirked. “Don’t worry,” she soothed me. “It’s so simple, a monkey could do it.”
Nell
I t didn’t take Michelle long to fall asleep. It was amazing how easily she slid into the lap of luxury, how naturally she fit the mold of a spoiled princess, no matter in what time period or country or even dimension it occurred. She had been given the room which used to be mine when I lived in the palace. The bed remained near the window, hence her need for the fire to be constantly maintained—or else the room became quite frigid—and her need for the barrel organ to be played, drowning out the roar of the storms, which would come and go, throughout the course of the day and night.
Now it was afternoon sometime, the sky overhead a low slate. The clouds were so thick and constant, it seemed nightfall was never more than an hour away, even in the early afternoon.
I sat on a stool near the fire, enjoying its warmth—I supposed, once I got used to deflecting Michelle’s casual barbs, this world was better than the dungeon—with a barrel organ wedged between my knees. The barrel organ was the size of a small child, and it rolled on a set of well-oiled wheels for easy mobility. When the crank was turned, sheet music rolled past in a little window, indicating the song which was being played by the strange pipes housed within. It was automatic, and only capable of playing a handful of tunes. I’d been playing the same melody, a haunting but relaxing lullaby which I hoped would keep Michelle asleep… forever, frankly, and I didn’t care enough to switch out the sheets. Though my arm was tired, I continued to crank the organ, staring out the window at the sudden snowstorm hailing down on Everwinter. The weather here reflected the people of the city: chilly, then solemn, then violent. At times the air was clear, and then the sky would darken and snow would pummel the earth in chunks the size of insects.
The door creaked open behind me and I jolted, turning to behold Lethe stepping inside. When he saw that I was here, too, he paused. I imagined it would be awkward to go to see your wife and instead find your former mistress, who you still loved in your own twisted way, sitting with her.
“Nell,” he whispered, closing the door.
My throat constricted. If Michelle awoke and found us speaking together, I shuddered to think what she would do to me. She was spiteful, and more toward me than any other female. Theon had not been swayed toward her during our time apart, and had gone on to marry me, which had hurt her enough. To see that her own husband whispered with me in some clandestine manner at her bedside? She’d have me beheaded.
“I didn’t think she’d really do it,” he said, treading toward me. I almost recoiled from him, and I was glad that the barrel organ rested between us. I continued to turn its crank— plink, plink, plunk, plunk, plunk —to disguise the sound of our voices. “I told her not to… or that, if she must humiliate you, to put you somewhere that I wouldn’t have to see it.”
I grimaced. Theon would never have said anything so gutless and self-serving to his wife. He didn’t mind if I was humiliated as a palace slave. He merely did not want to be made uncomfortable by watching it.
“Well, she’s your queen, Lethe.” Plink, plink. Plunk, plink, plunk, plunk. “She’s more ice dragoness than I could ever be, I’ll tell you that.”
“It’s almost frightening.” Lethe knelt at my side and I winced, wishing that he would get off his knees. Michelle couldn’t see
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