Flood

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 This story is COPYRIGHT. This means if you take it and slap your name on it and pretend it's yours, I'll come down on you like the hammer of Thor.

 Note: This INCLUDES people that take the story and say something like "credit to Erin Latimer". Do NOT post any of my stories without permission.


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I could see the steam coming off Kalda's dark skin as she worked to gather the holly branches. She was chattering away as she worked, breath rising in a misty spiral in the cold air around us.

            "Gods, I can't wait to see the look on Thora's face when I show up to the dance in that dress." She glanced up, eyes sparkling. "Do you think Finn will be there?"

            "He's King Loki's second cousin. Of course he'll be there." Pushing the basket higher up on my arm, I frowned at her. "Finn is a snob. He won't look twice at a couple of servants, it doesn't matter how dressed up we are."

            Kalda shrugged. "A girl can always hope." She dropped another handful of holly into the basket and then hissed in through her teeth. "Owch."

            I caught her hand and turned it over. There was a thin scratch running across her palm. "Pay more attention, Kay..."

            She was already ignoring me, staring up through the trees, a dreamy expression on her face. "I like it so much better here."

            Annoyed, I glanced over at the palace. The sunrise was glittering off the spires and peaks, reflecting white light from the surface of the ice. Kalda had been like this since she arrived from Muspelheim a year ago. A year since she'd transferred to the palace and fallen in love with the glitter and shine. A year since we'd met and become fast friends. Kay and Vee. Fire and ice.

            It was frustrating sometimes. She was distracted by glitter and wealth so easily. Servants didn't wear puffy ball gowns and court Lords. At least, that was what my mother was always telling me. She'd been around when Eira ruled, when the horrible Queen had treated the servants like....well, like slaves.

            It was different now. Now we were paid well, and allowed to dance at all the parties, and wear whatever we wanted, and talk to whoever we pleased. But we were still servants, and Lord Finn was still not going to look at Kalda with anything less than disdain.

            There were a few Jotun left who still thought in old fashioned ways, stuck in the past. There'd been a few times I'd been on the wrong end of a sharp word or a slap. After all, the Queen couldn't be everywhere at once.

            The Queen. My fingers tightened around the handle of the basket. That was where I had my sights set. If you were good at your job, you could work your way up, waiting on the higher lords and ladies, climbing up the ladder until you hit the big time. Queen Megan's personal servants were getting older, some were moving away, opening their own shops with the money they'd earned. That was where I was headed. Surely working for Megan would be the best sort of job. She was so kind. Always smiling. She was radiant. Being close to her would almost be as good as actually being a Lord or Lady of the court.

            "You've got that look again," Kalda said cheerfully, and I snapped up, standing straighter. Heat rushed to my cheeks.

            "I was about to say the same thing to you."

            Kalda laughed, hooking her arm into mine and tugging me forward. The snow crunched under our boots "Come on. If we go any deeper into the woods we'll have to start tying red ribbons around the trees to find our way back."

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