“Charles Ravensworth, it’s a pleasure to have you staying with us this evening.”
I greeted the tall, well-dressed, broad-chested, imposing man as he entered The Grey House.
“Your Highness! What an honor!”
Charles flashed a wide smile, his dazzling white teeth contrasting beautifully against his flawless, midnight-black skin.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting the Archduchess herself to oversee my welcome!”
His voice was warm, carrying a thick accent Celia couldn’t quite place. She had heard similar accents throughout the day, as several guests of similar appearance had arrived at the inn.
“I couldn’t pass up the chance to see an old friend again. It’s been, what, twelve years since I last saw you? How is your daughter? Has she been well?”
I smiled warmly, remembering his lovely daughter, Nyla—a stunningly tall, graceful young woman with gorgeous, dark, curly hair.
Charles’s expression softened at the mention of his child.
“She’s been wonderful. She married a duke last year, a young man of outstanding character. We couldn’t be more pleased. When she heard I would be attending the conference, she begged me to bring you something as a thank-you for the last time you met.”
Charles motioned for his porter, who rummaged through his traveling belongings before producing a beautifully ornate box.
“Please, open it,” Charles said softly.
I lifted the lid of the luxurious, intricately patterned box to reveal a stunning moonstone pendant set in silver. Its rainbow iridescence shimmered against a delicate blue setting, catching the light in a breathtaking display.
“Look at the back,” Charles urged gently.
I carefully turned the pendant over.
Engraved into the silver were the words:
To my savior.
If not for you, I would never have known happiness.
Thank you.
—N
A lump formed in my throat. I covered my mouth, deeply touched by the gesture.
For a moment, I could only stare at the pendant before carefully returning it to its box and closing the lid.
“Please tell her I said thank you.”
I gently patted Charles’s hand.
Charles smiled warmly.
“No, Your Highness. Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here preparing to become a grandfather.”
My face broke into a delighted smile.
“A grandfather?! Charles!”
I threw my arms around him in a tremendous hug.
“Congratulations! Come in, come in! I’ll have my porter send a bottle up to your room, compliments of the house. It’s so good to see you again, Charles. The front desk will get you checked in and settled.”
We parted from our embrace, and Charles nodded gratefully before heading toward the reception desk.
“Ma’am, may I ask a question?”
Celia spoke quietly, her expression uncertain, as though she feared her question might come across as ignorant or rude.
I turned toward her.
“Of course. Is everything all right?”
Celia was all of fifteen, but she was remarkably tactful and observant for her age. When she approached a question with this much hesitation, it usually meant she was struggling to phrase something that might otherwise sound inappropriate.
“Why have seven guests with the name Raven checked in today? And why is their skin so dark? Some of them are almost black as night. It isn’t dirt, is it? Their clothes are so beautifully patterned and colorful, and they don’t seem dirty at all.”
I blinked, then realized something.
Celia had spent nearly her entire life within the confines of our region. She had rarely encountered people from distant lands, much less those whose appearance differed so dramatically from her own.
I smiled gently.
“Sir Charles Ravensworth and the other families bearing the Raven name are primarily from the coast of Bishop. The people there have naturally beautiful dark skin and the most glorious curly hair. That is where the Ravens established their territory when the Ten disbanded a millennium ago.”
“The Ten?” Celia asked curiously.
Right. She never received a formal education.
I asked Meryl to take over the front desk, then guided Celia to a secluded booth in the tavern where we could speak without interruption.
“The Ten were the ten great families of the ancient lands. They included the Blacks, from whom my family descends; the Nights; the Ravens, Sir Charles’s ancestors; the Vexes; the Darks; the Crowes; the Wyrms; the Nocts; the Hex and Wex clans; and finally, the Graves.”
Celia furrowed her brow.
“Why do all their names sound so gloomy?”
I chuckled.
“Because people once believed these families were cursed or hexed. You see, certain descendants of these houses were born with unusual powers. Not every child, and not in every generation, but often enough that the families developed reputations that followed them for centuries.
“During the dark times, these families gathered together for protection. Eventually, the land itself split apart. Whether that happened through God’s anger or some natural catastrophe, no one knows for certain.
“People either feared these families or sought to align themselves with their power. Many married into their bloodlines, and over time, the ten clans dispersed from the original continent, establishing colonies in distant lands.
“That is why, around here, you encounter so many surnames beginning with Night, Noct, or Graves.
“Where my family originally came from, you would find many people whose surnames begin with Black. All of them trace their ancestry back to the original House of Black.
“My own surname, Blackwood, suggests that somewhere along my ancestral line, a branch of the family became associated with woodsmen, foresters, or herbalists.”
Celia considered this for a moment.
“So Meryl, whose last name is Nightmend, comes from one of those houses?”
“Yes. And judging by the second half of her surname, I would assume her ancestors were healers of some sort.”
Celia nodded thoughtfully.
“So Sir Charles’s family, Ravensworth…”
“Likely had some association with finance,” I finished for her. “The name Worth tends to appear among families historically connected to trade, wealth, or coin.”
Her face brightened as the pieces began falling into place.
“Oh! I see!”
Then another question occurred to her.
“So what is this conference Sir Charles mentioned?”
“Every year, representatives from the ten houses gather with the royal court of a different region. They reaffirm trade agreements, negotiate new terms, and discuss what each territory requires to maintain stability and prosperity.
“It ensures trade continues smoothly and that each region receives the assistance it needs. This year, our region has the honor of hosting the conference.”
Celia nodded, then tilted her head.
“But why did Sir Charles say it’s been twelve years since you last saw each other? Wouldn’t it have been ten?”
“Because of the two years of plague,” I explained. “During that time, every region closed its borders. Travel and trade between territories came to a halt until the plague was brought under control.”
Celia fell silent.
Of all the things I had explained that evening, this was the one subject she understood far too well.
Nine years earlier, she had been a gutter rat, starving in the streets.
The plague had claimed both her parents, yet somehow spared her. Orphaned and homeless, she had survived for nearly a year on stolen scraps, discarded food, and whatever small creatures she could catch or scavenge from the outskirts of town.
Then, on one bitterly cold night, she collapsed outside the kitchen entrance of The Grey House.
She was six years old.
And she was waiting to die.
I still remembered the night we found her.
The child lay curled beside the kitchen door, her tiny body half-frozen, starved, and covered in insect bites. Her threadbare clothing offered almost no protection against the cold.
One of the newly hired cooks glanced down at her with utter indifference.
“Serves her right. Tried stealing bread last week. One less leech to feed.”
He laughed.
I turned toward him.
“GET OUT!”
My voice thundered through the kitchen.
“YOU’RE FIRED! AND MAY GOD HAVE PITY ON YOUR SOUL FOR CONDEMNING ONE OF HIS CHILDREN TO DEATH!”
The insolent little bastard actually had the nerve to turn around and shout back.
“WOMAN, GET BACK TO—”
He never finished.
A massive wooden butcher’s block struck him squarely in the face, breaking his nose.
The head chef, Stanley, moved with astonishing speed for a man of his considerable girth. He stormed toward the young cook and delivered a swift kick.
“SHUT UP, YOU DOG! DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE THE WOMAN WHO PAYS YOUR WAGES?!”
Stanley spun toward me, his face pale with terror.
“Lady Eva, I’m terribly sorry! He was only hired this week. He seemed willing to learn the kitchens. I had no idea his moral character was so disgraceful! I’ll throw him out immediately. Please, Your Ladyship, don’t dismiss me as well!”
Unfortunately, the young fool still hadn’t learned his lesson.
“But this place belongs to Lord Blackwood! Why the hell should I listen to this old bag?!”
Apparently, the butcher’s block hadn’t knocked any sense into him.
So I stepped forward and slapped him hard enough to send him sprawling onto the floor.
Before he could scramble away, I planted my foot firmly against his ankle.
“I manage this establishment on my father’s behalf,” I said darkly.
“Your Highness, please! Let him off this once!” Stanley pleaded.
The young cook froze.
A crowd of staff had gathered near the kitchen entrance. Every one of them looked horrified.
The boy glanced from one terrified face to another.
“Y-Your… Highness?”
Stanley rounded on him.
“BEG HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE ARCHDUCHESS LADY BLACKWOOD! SISTER-IN-LAW TO THE QUEEN!”
The young man went white.
He scrambled to his knees and began begging for mercy.
Only now did he understand the gravity of his offense.
Insulting a member of the royal family could mean death. Judging by the expressions of the surrounding staff, he had every reason to believe the woman standing over him was exactly who Stanley claimed she was.
And whatever authority he imagined his sex afforded him meant absolutely nothing against someone of my standing.
I stared down at the miserable cur.
“Stanley. Get this worthless piece of filth out of my establishment. I never want to see him anywhere near The Grey House again.”
Stanley bowed his head.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I turned toward the others.
“Laurel. May.”
Two young women in serving uniforms stepped forward and bowed.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Bring the girl inside. Have one of the porters draw a warm bath for her, and send for a local healer immediately. Take her to the empty room beside the kitchens in the staff quarters.”
The two women exchanged concerned glances but wisely chose not to argue.
They hurried outside and carefully lifted the small, weakened child between them.
“All right, everyone. Back to work.”
I waved the remaining staff away.
They scattered toward their assigned duties.
“Stanley.”
He stiffened.
“How many days did that boy work this week?”
“O-Only one day, ma’am.”
“And what did you promise him in daily wages?”
“Three silver pennies, ma’am.”
I took four silver pennies from my purse and tossed them at the dismissed cook.
“Your wages for yesterday and this morning.”
I looked him directly in the eye.
“May God have mercy on your soul.”
Then I turned away and slammed the kitchen door behind me.
The staff knew better than to approach me in that mood.
They gave me a wide berth as I made my way from the kitchens into the staff quarters.
At the room immediately to the left, I knocked.
“It’s me. I’m coming in.”
Inside, Laurel and May were gently lowering the trembling child into a wooden bathtub.
The water was warm, but to someone so cold, it must have felt scalding.
She whimpered weakly as they eased her into the tub, barely possessing enough strength to cry.
I pulled up a chair and asked the girls to bring me soap and a towel.
The child looked utterly defeated.
It was as though she had already surrendered whatever hope she once possessed.
I asked May to remain while Laurel went to watch for the healer.
“Bring the healer here as soon as they arrive.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I took the soap and turned my attention to the little girl.
“What’s your name, child?”
She had begun adjusting to the water, but her expression remained numb.
“Celia,” she whispered.
Her eyes were almost lifeless.
“Celia. How old are you? Where are your parents?”
I began carefully lathering her hair, working the soap through the tangled strands before gently washing the rest off her.
The water quickly darkened with the grime that had accumulated on her skin.
“Six, ma’am. My parents died during the plague.”
I looked up at May.
It had been at least a year since the plague had been eradicated.
And this child had somehow survived all that time alone.
“Is there no one looking after you?”
“No, ma’am.”
I fell silent for a moment.
“You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
I continued washing her, using a soft cloth to remove the dirt from her arms and shoulders.
She offered no resistance.
“Would you like a job?”
Celia blinked.
“Ma’am?”
“I just dismissed someone, and I need staff. Would you like a job?”
The change was immediate.
With what little strength remained in her body, she began fighting against me.
Water splashed everywhere as she struggled desperately to escape the bathtub.
“Celia! What are you doing?!”
She forced herself over the edge and collapsed onto the floor.
For the first time, I saw the full extent of her condition.
Her naked little body was covered in bruises, scrapes, insect bites, and half-healed wounds.
Starvation had hollowed her out so severely that her ribs protruded sharply beneath skin stretched almost translucent over her bones.
It was a horrifying sight.
“Stop! Celia! You don’t want a job?”
She began sobbing.
“Ma’am, please! I don’t want to be a bed warmer! Please don’t make me! I’ll leave! I promise I’ll never come back! Please don’t make me a bedmate!”
I froze.
For one terrible moment, I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing.
Then the meaning of her words struck me.
Six.
Six goddamn years old.
And this child was terrified that I intended to sell her body to wealthy clientele.
What in God’s name had she witnessed during her time on the streets?
My heart shattered.
“Child, no!”
I dropped to my knees.
“No, sweetheart! I wasn’t offering you that kind of work! What sort of inhuman monster would do such a thing?”
I reached toward her, but stopped when she flinched.
“I meant a runner. An errand girl. Someone to deliver messages, help tidy the rooms, and assist in the kitchens. An all-purpose helper. You’re so small that you can reach places most of my staff cannot.”
Celia stared at me.
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then whatever strength had been holding her upright disappeared.
She crumpled to the floor and began wailing.
Not the quiet, exhausted whimpering of a hungry child.
But deep, desperate sobs that seemed to come from somewhere far beyond her tiny body.
I hurried to her and gathered her into my arms.
“May! Bring me a towel. She’s freezing!”
May immediately fetched a large towel, and together we wrapped the trembling child.
Celia clung to me.
She cried against my chest until sheer exhaustion finally overcame her and she lost consciousness.
With May’s assistance, I gently rinsed the remaining soap from her hair.
We dressed her in one of the spare sleeping gowns, though it hung from her tiny frame like a bedsheet.
After drying her hair as thoroughly as we could, we tucked her into bed.
The healer arrived shortly afterward.
While the porters removed the wooden bathtub and emptied the water, he examined Celia.
“Your Highness, she’s severely malnourished and dehydrated. There’s some frostbite on her fingers, and she’s suffering from extreme exhaustion.”
He handed me a small bottle of tonic.
“She needs rest. For the first few days, give her broth or light soup. Once she can tolerate that, introduce bread, then eventually meat. Mutton would be suitable when she’s strong enough.”
I nodded, paid his fee, and thanked him.
After he left, I instructed the staff to keep watch over the girl.
If she woke and attempted to run, they were to stop her gently.
She was in no condition to return to the streets.
I also sent someone into town to purchase clothing in her size. The garments were folded neatly and left on a chair beside her bed.
Two days passed before Celia finally woke.
When I entered her room, she was lying in bed, looking around in confusion.
“Do you remember who I am?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the owner here.”
Her voice was clearer, though still a little hoarse.
I asked May to fetch her some water.
“Do you remember my job offer?”
I needed to know whether she was thinking clearly—and whether she still intended to flee.
Celia looked directly at me.
“Yes, ma’am. I can be a runner, whatever that is. But I will not be a bed warmer, or a chambermaid, or anything that requires someone to use me for sport.”
Her voice was surprisingly defiant.
I stared at her.
This was a six-year-old child.
Who the hell teaches a six-year-old to speak like that?
I drew a slow breath.
“Celia, I run a clean and honest establishment. I do not cater to those desires, nor will I ever. I am a God-fearing woman, and I will never participate in the exploitation of children or slaves for that kind of work.”
I could barely conceal my disgust.
Celia’s expression hardened.
“There are plenty in the Church who employ children like me for that kind of work.”
She watched me challengingly, almost daring me to contradict her.
“Then they are not true people of faith,” I replied firmly. “No person of good moral character would do such a thing to a child. And for someone of the clergy to commit such acts is an even greater disgrace.”
For the first time, Celia seemed to lower her guard.
I settled into the chair beside her bed.
“Now, let’s discuss your employment.”
She sat up a little straighter.
“I will pay you three silver pennies per day for your work. You will also receive room and board for as long as you remain employed here.
“This room will be yours. It tends to be the warmest in the building because it’s beside the kitchens. If it becomes too warm, you may open the window.
“You will receive three meals a day and a proper uniform.
“In return, you will be responsible for washing your own clothes, cleaning up after yourself, maintaining your personal hygiene, and presenting yourself neatly whenever you’re on duty.
“You will have one day off every week, along with three additional days each month to use as you see fit. For those additional days, you must give us at least two weeks’ notice.
“And finally, if you become ill and the healer confirms it, you will not work under any circumstances.
“This is a matter of cleanliness and safety. We cannot risk our staff or guests becoming ill because someone was forced to work while sick.”
I paused.
“Are these terms acceptable to you?”
Celia stared at me, silently counting each condition on her fingers.
She took her time considering everything I had said.
Finally, she nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
I smiled.
“You’ll begin in three days. The healer says you’re not yet fit for work, and I have no use for someone who cannot stand long enough to perform her duties.
“For now, your job is to recover.
“You may have soup today, and if you tolerate it well, you can try some bread tomorrow.”
I turned toward May.
“May, ask Stanley to prepare a bowl of soup for Celia and bring it here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I gestured toward the chair beside the bed.
“There are some clothes there that should fit you. Once the healer says you’re strong enough, I’ll have the staff show you around The Grey House so you can familiarize yourself with the establishment.”
I rose from my chair and prepared to leave.
“Ma’am?”
I turned back.
Celia was watching me with an expression I hadn’t seen on her face before.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“I’ll do the very best I can for you.”
I looked at her for a moment.
Then I smiled.
“I know you will.”
“Celia… Celia? Are you all right? You seem awfully far away.”
I studied the young woman’s distant expression with mild concern.
“You haven’t gotten into Stanley’s fermented rice pudding again, have you?”
I gave her a teasing smile.
Celia blinked, then laughed softly as she returned to the present.
“No, ma’am. I was just thinking about when I first came here.”
Her smile softened.
“I honestly thought I was going to die in that alleyway when you found me.”
My smile faded.
I lowered my gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
I remembered that night all too clearly.
The sight of her tiny, emaciated body would haunt me for the rest of my life. Skin stretched over bone, bruises and wounds covering her frail little frame. The way she had trembled in terror after scrambling out of the bathtub, convinced that I intended to subject her to something unspeakable.
She had been so small.
So terribly, terribly small.
I had never seen anything quite so horrific in my life, and I prayed I never would again.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I looked up at her and smiled.
“Well, thankfully, you didn’t die. And as it turns out, you were perhaps the best hire I’ve ever made.”
Celia’s face brightened.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m grateful.”
Before I could respond, Meryl’s voice carried across the tavern from the front desk.
“Cece! Can you take this up to Ms. Price in room 2302?”
“Absolutely! Be right there!”
Celia rose from the booth and gave me one last smile before hurrying toward the reception desk.
I watched her go.
The little girl who had once been too weak to stand was now a capable, confident young woman, moving through The Grey House as though she had always belonged there.
She knew the staff, the guests, the rooms, and the countless little details that kept the establishment running smoothly.
And everyone knew her.
I smiled to myself.
Nine years ago, I had found a broken little child dying outside my kitchen door.
Today, I watched a young woman with her whole life ahead of her.
And I couldn’t have been prouder.