Serpent's Kiss || Kingdom at the End of the World - Book I

[2] Courting Gifts

Ira awoke in a rush, as if shaken aware by invisible hands. She bolted upright in a bed that smelled musty and stale. It took her a moment to remember the storm, Beaufort Manor, her new position. A mixture of anticipation and relief swept through her.

The bed sat under a window. Ira pushed heavy drapes aside, dislodging a blanket of dust. She managed to unlatch the rusted lock keeping the wooden shutters closed, and pried the window open. A gust of biting wind invaded the room. Outside, the sky stretched clear and blue. The land surrounding the manor was barren, jagged rock that gleamed gold under the morning sun. Ira remembered raising her head against the wailing wind and seeing Beaufort Manor towering above her for the first time. Lit by lightning and slick with rain, it had seemed like a haven and a danger both.

Ira left the window open and rose from the bed, shaking sleep-born stiffness from her limbs. The bedroom was larger than she would have expected to be allotted to a servant, and well furnished. A vanity table stood out among the stately furniture. Its elegant build was far better suited to a lady than a maid. Ira stared at herself in the oval-shaped mirror. Her reflection sneered back, out of place among the finery. She changed clothing and neatened her appearance as best as she could, and didn't look into the mirror again.

The upper story was dark, but the sitting room was bright and warm. Sir Beaufort sat with his head bowed over a letter. The frown marring his features smoothed in a smile when he caught sight of Ira, and he set both paper and quill aside.

"Good morning, Sir Beaufort," Ira offered.

"Good morning, Miss Hale. I trust you slept well?" Sir Beaufort asked.

"Fine, thank you."

"Please, have a seat," the man bid.

Ira took the corner of a regal red sofa. Sir Beaufort watched her with a strange expression, and did not speak for some time.

"Forgive me, but you seem familiar. Have we met?" he said at last.

"I do not believe we have," Ira said.

Sir Beaufort nodded in acceptance, and seemed to put the issue out of mind. "I am afraid I cannot offer you much time to settle in," he said. "My fiancé is due to visit in a month, and I have rather neglected the manor's upkeep."

"I am eager to begin work," Ira said.

"I am glad to hear that. We will begin with a tour of the manor, if you are ready."

Sir Beaufort rose. Ira hurried to follow, trailing in the man's wake down a dark hallway that creaked and echoed with her steps. They entered a large room that was soon revealed to be a kitchen. The single lamp glowing in the dark cast shadows over cabinets and shelves, the hearth yawning like an open mouth near a large sink.

"You will find everything fully functional. We have enough supplies to last us for some time, with more on the way. If you think of anything we need, please let me know," Sir Beaufort said.

"I will." Ira's eyes swept the room, lingering on the barred window. "Do you prefer certain dishes over others, Sir?"

"I do not," Sir Beaufort replied. "I expect my guests will. Until their arrival, feel free to prepare whatever you wish."

"I must ask that the windows remain barred, even at night," Sir Beaufort said as they made their way back to the sitting room, "I suffer from severe sensitivity to sunlight. Exposure is painful, and I would prefer not to take any chances."

"I understand," Ira said. She felt Sir Beaufort's eyes, but the man said nothing. He had likely expected questions. Ira had none to ask.

Sir Beaufort paused by the fireplace. He looked up, prompting Ira to do the same. A dark-haired woman peered down at them from a large portrait. Her face was calm, the green of her eyes vivid and lively. The drawing's likeness to a living person was so great Ira felt as if the woman would speak at any moment.