Way of the Empire

5

Lilibeth shut her eyes. She kept her head down and prayed it would all be over soon. The all too familiar thud of a fist against flesh caused her to flinch. She turned her head, expecting the worse. Nothing. Maybe, Lilibeth thought, he hit me so hard, I can't feel anything. She cracked open her eyes and looked at King Abdeel's s shoes. They were backwards? She dared herself to look up. King Abdeel was facing the Prince! Had he hit the prince? She dragged a shaky hand up to her face. She pressed her cheek and felt nothing more than the pressure of her own fingertips against them. Lilibeth held her hands to keep them from shaking. Just because King Abdeel hadn't hit her didn't mean the Prince would spare her. No one had seen him since before the war and even then he barely made contact with anyone. The only one with any memory of him was Anthony's mother, Maudie. What if he was like his father? Or worse? Her fingers wouldn't stop twitching. Lilibeth kept her head down and apologized. There was nothing she could do at that moment except wait. She waited to feel his palm against her cheek but felt nothing. She knew looking directly at the royal family was forbidden, but she had to know. Her eyes quickly glanced up, and she saw a man holding the king's hand. Her eyes widened. She heard him whisper 'go'. Lilibeth almost squeaked as she hurried away. How had she not seen him? How could she be so foolish? So stupid? He had every right to hit her for being incompetent! No, he doesn't, she reminded herself. She despised her own mind at times. Just because she was a servant, it didn't entitle people to treat her like vermin. Though others would beg her to think otherwise. Thankfully, he was there to stop him. He in question being the prince. A prince who didn't seem to be at all like his father. A small, rebellious part of her had wished she would have looked at him closely. At least her glance let her know that he was handsome. Lilibeth sighed in relief. She prayed that the king would forget about their altercation and would leave her be. Lilibeth pushed the palm of her hand against her chest, taking deep breaths to try and settle herself. She flexed her hands against her apron as she entered the kitchen.

"Goodness dear, what took you so long?'' questioned the other workers. Workers not servants, they were paid. Lilibeth had learned that early enough. They glanced at Lilibeth's face and trembling figure, looking her up and down before shaking their heads and going back to work. Lilibeth hurried back to her work space and finished chopping up the vegetables that had been left behind. Her heart was beating in her ears. Her mother hadn't approached her yet, so perhaps all was good. Her mind wandered back to the man in the hallway. His voice was deep. So wonderfully deep. Lilibeth shook her head. Nonsense, she thought to herself. One should not have these sorts of thoughts. "Go'' , Lilibeth's hand froze. Green eyes. The man had green eyes. At least, that's what her brain could remember. Very pretty green eyes. The vegetables for the stew lay before her on the wooden block. His voice wrapped around her like a blanket. Draping itself on her shoulders and trailing down her spine. Lilibeth shuddered at the invisible finger, tracing her back.

"Deary, are you alright?'' she wasn't sure who questioned her. She simply nodded and continued to chop the potatoes.

''She's in no condition to work, she'll get everyone sick. Off you go, back to your chambers.'' Someone's hand pulled the knife from her and sent her on her way.

Lilibeth rubbed the temples of her forehead whilst mumbling 'What's wrong with me?'

"Do clean yourself up.'', the lady's voice was distant. A far-off command that echoed from another world. Lilibeth ran her fingers along the smooth wall of the castle stones, hoping it would calm her down.

"Go." The voice wrapped around her like silk as she quickened her pace to the washroom. Her face felt red. She was sure if she crashed into an egg, it would fry before she got a chance to wipe it off. Maybe she was really was sick. Lilibeth paused before turning the corner. She leaned her back against the hard, cold stones, pressing herself into them. Willing them open up and swallow her whole. Lilibeth held her breath and pressed her palms against the,. She couldn't hide here forever. She stood straight, ran her hands along her dress, fixing the invisible wrinkles, and turned. Her family's room was at the end of the hall. She would be fine.

A door creaked open before her. The plump seamstress Maudie stepped out of her living quarters. A man stepped out behind her. Lilibeth blushed. A much younger man thanking her for a face covering.

"Do visit me more often, my boy. You've been away far too long.'' Lilibeth inclined her head in a greeting with a small smile, locking eyes with Maudie. The gentleman's back was to her and something about it reminded her of something. She couldn't remember what.

'How strange,' Lilibeth thought. It was much to warm for a face covering. Maudie crafted the fabric to contort to his face. The dark blue fabric covered his right cheekbone and went around his mouth down to his chin. Lilibeth made an effort to walk around the pair when she felt Maudie's thick fingers latch onto her shoulder.

"Lilibeth, darling, are you busy? I just need to borrow a minute of your time.'' Lilibeth shook her head. Maudie was Anthony's mother. Lilibeth had been looking out for her since he departed for the war. She nodded as the man smiled at them. She assumed he smiled at them; only the left corner of his mouth lifted. Lilibeth watched the man's retreating form. The muscles on his back shifted with each step.

"Can you finish pressing these for me. My hands ain't what they used to be.'' Maudie patted her shoulders after she wobbled her way back to her.

"I'll have them ready by tomorrow''. Maudie walked back into her chambers, mumbling something about her back. Lilibeth looked down at the mix of dark blues and black fabric in her hand, then at the empty space where the man stood.