The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

21.3

He had just finished shaving the stubbles off his cheeks when a knock came upon the door. He had a perfect view of it through the hole in the screen. A familiar voice called from the other side; feminine and muffled behind the thick wood.

He straightened in the water, cleared his throat. 'Enter.'

It was his plate-sampler, carrying a large tray of congee and fruits. Kiet sank back into the bath, trying to subdue his inexplicable annoyance. What else had he expected?

'Shall I bring this to you?' She had enough reserve to keep her head down. 'The congee will get cold if you don't eat it quickly.'

'Sure. Nothing more foul than cold congee.'

The girl walked towards him, eyes glued to the floor. She came around the wooden screen, hands trembling harder the closer she got. The tray shook in her steel grip, the pitcher upon it slipping dangerously close to an angle. Kiet pulled away in a panic. Water sloshed off the side of his tub and onto the tiled floor.

'You're going to spill everything into my bath! Look up when you walk!' Besides, if she wanted to avoid seeing anything, looking down was the worst idea.

The girl squeaked a flurry of apologies, set the tray between the edges of his tub, and bowed clumsily before turning to leave.

'Wait.'

She faltered. 'Yes, maharaj? Shall I—Shall I scrub your back?'

'What? No. You are my plate-sampler, are you not?'

She made more noises of apology before kneeling beside him to take a bite from each of his food. He knew not why she irritated him so—it was by no fault of hers. Clearly he stepped out of bed that afternoon with the wrong foot.

He sighed, softening his voice. 'What is your name?'

'It's Tika, maharaj.'

A dime-a-dozen name; it made him think of another, long ago. He scarcely remembered her face ... some visiting nobleborn girl's bedmate. It was his mother's mockery he recalled. 'Astika? I've never heard a more barnyard name! Make sure you return her to whichever backward village she came from once you're done.' He would have left the girl in peace had he not needed see her a couple more times if only to irk his mother.

But those were his younger, wilder days. He had learnt better ways to prove a point. 'You are young, Tika; too young to be plate-sampler. I'll have my steward assign for you a new role once we've returned to the palace.'

'Have I displeased you?'

'Not at all.'

She folded suddenly over her knees, hands clenching her thighs. 'Then please don't send me away! Let me serve you longer!'

Having a girl kowtowing while he lay naked in a tub—the discomfort hit him all at once. Kiet pushed the platter away and reached for the folded towels, using her momentary obeisance to cover himself. 'So eager are you to die of food poisoning?'

'If it would spare the maharaj his life, then yes!'

His stomach twisted again, and all Kiet's appetite vanished along with the wry smile on his face. 'Rise. Keep your station if so you desire, just please save ... the grovelling.'

'Thank you, maharaj!' The relief on her face swiftly changed to shock as she rose and faced him.

Between the steam literally smouldering off his skin and the young lady turning lobster-red, Kiet thought of a rather inappropriate remark. He swallowed it; his wilder days were supposed to be over. 'You are dismissed.'