Treachery Queen (The Callistra Chronicles #1)

THIRTEEN

Chapter Thirteen

Pasiphae set the plate aside, holding back a long sigh. She reached for the next one, plunging the ceramic bowl in soapy water. She would have thought that with the Court's power, they could have used magic to wash all the dishes automatically. But then what were the lower class for, right?

If only the people at home could see her now. Pasiphae of Eo, washing dishes for the fae.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, slamming the ceramic bowl down.

"Are you having trouble?"

Pasiphae froze at the voice of the human girl next to her. The girl's hands were still methodically drying the dishes Pasiphae handed over, but her eyes were fixed to Pasiphae's face.

Falon.

"No, no trouble," Pasiphae replied airily, taking care to mimic her tone. "Where'd you come from, Falon?"

The girl looked surprised that she would be asked this. Her eyes darted to the door, where fae of the working class were bustling in and out.

"It doesn't matter where I came from," she said. "It only matters that I am here now."

If that didn't sound like brainwashing, Pasiphae didn't know what did.

"But surely—"

A sudden commotion outside the kitchens cut her off.

Pasiphae half-rose in her seat as a boy was dragged in, a deep slash of blood at his forehead and his shoulders hunched over to deflect some of the strength the guard was pressing into his shoulder.

The guard skittered to a halt, and the boy was pushed to the floor.

"You're in here for the rest of the year," she hissed. The guard gave him a jab with the weapon at her belt, and marched off just as quickly as she had entered.

The faery boy slowly picked himself up, wincing at the congealed blood collecting on his hands. He limped off without making a noise, but no one else in the kitchens had seemed to notice his entrance anyway.

Sometime during the disturbance, Pasiphae had stopped rinsing dishes. The human boy next to her picked up her slack, passing a glass-blown cup to Falon and already pretending that Pasiphae wasn't there.

She stood up, quietly pushing the small stool under the work bench.

"Could I borrow this?" she asked Falon, picking up a bowl the girl had just set down.

Falon frowned. "I suppose."

Pasiphae stuck the bowl into the sink, half-filling it with soapy water, and fled away. She hugged the bowl close to her chest, ducking her head as she passed fae couriering bags of food from door to door. When it seemed like the rush of people had calmed, Pasiphae slipped into a storage room.

The necklace came off her neck with a hard tug. She dropped it into the bowl, hoping the soap suds wouldn't interfere.

"Circe?" she shouted into the bowl, feeling like an idiot.

The soap suds were clearing, the water almost colouring, but her sister's face didn't appear in the water. Circe seemed to have left her necklace to sit in a bowl of water.

Pasiphae brought her ear closer to the bowl, confirming her thought. She could hear voices through the transmission, but the image cleared to show Circe's bedroom ceiling.

"—we .... communication problem? First ... now Embess and Arche too? I feel like I missed a memo!"

Pasiphae thought that the voice belonged to Yelena. She knew for sure when Circe replied, in a voice that was far closer, "I didn't know either. I guess Embess and Arche just never voiced their ambitions with Pasiphae's surefire running."