Time seemed to grind to a sickening halt as Josie looked on, the oppressive silence pressing in against her skull so tightly that it rose into a shrill ringing. Her arm shot outward, grasping onto John as the room swayed delicately around her.

He had her. The Godking had Fawn.

John squeezed her arm back excitedly, misinterpreting the gesture for enthusiasm.

"Citizens!" the Godking thundered. "Agrarians! Friends from near and far! Tonight, on the eve of this Harvest Festival, I accept your generous offerings as a pledge of fealty to me, and to this great Kingdom! Look at the bounty before you. Taste the richness of its fruits. Your loyalty to me, your great love for this land has made this all possible. Now you shall reap the benefits you have sowed!"

The tables thundered with the banging of tankards. "Here, here!" John shouted.

The Godking paused for a moment, reveling in the raucous cheers that rose up at his words. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, deeper, his passion cresting like a wave.

"For too long, the prosperity of this great nation has withered under the ceaseless tides of war, the feuds of selfish warkings and petty princes...men who would sacrifice your lives, your labour, your hard-earned coin for their own vainglorious pursuits! And still there are those who would whisper of war, those jealous of our success, discontented with the chances they have been given. Still there are those who would wish to return to the days of chaos and fear, to call you away from family and field and turn this country black with ash! What do we say to those people?"

"No more!" the crowd shouted in unison.

"No more!" he roared. "The reign of the Godking is a reign of peace! A reign of stability! A reign of prosperity! Let us drink together to the future of Agraria! Let the Harvest Festival begin!"

Knocking the goblet back, he drained the entire contents in one horrifying gulp, slamming his cup down on the table with the force of an earthquake. Frenzied chants of "long live the Godking" rose up in the air, as mad and fervent as the licking flames that danced feverishly in the hearth.

Fawn's bones rattled with the force of the cup's impact, her mouth pulling into a taut line. The thick, coarse wool of her skirt clung wetly to her thighs, the wine seeping through to chafe uncomfortably on her chilled skin. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

The Godking.

Only hours ago, she had moaned under the pleasure of his touch, been drunk on the taste of her name on his lips. Now every face was turned up to his in rapture and was she was absolutely nothing to him. No one. A lowly slave, invisible before the glory of her all-powerful master.

It stung deeper than she could have imagined.

She jolted slightly as his warm breath bathed her back, startled by his sudden closeness.

"Stand up and face me," he ordered. "I want to look at you."

With a deep breath she stood shakily, turning to him with a shallow curtsy. He stopped her bow gently with his finger, instead pinching the hem of her dress between pointer and thumb. She gasped as she was pulled slightly forward by the gesture, all-too conscious of the dormant power in his fingers.

"You're soaked through," he rumbled, the enormous discs of his eyes flickering over her with barely any movement. She could hear the tremor of pain beneath his voice, and it took all her willpower not to crumble then and there.

Around them, the room was bustling with activity, hundreds of guests jostling joyously toward their tables as servants swept in bearing enormous trays of food. Thomas stiffened as several of them approached his plate.

He released Fawn's dress from his grip.

"You," he snapped his finger, beckoning forth one of the idle servants standing silently in the shadows. "Show my slave to the dressing quarters. She has sullied her clothing."

The servant bowed in silent deference, her head inclined to the floor and her face obscured by her white cap. Fawn couldn't tell whether her posture spoke of humbleness or terror.

"And you" he glanced disinterestedly at Fawn, "get yourself cleaned up immediately. You're not fit for my presence."

Fawn winced, waiting for some further word, some softness to follow the blow. None came. In fact, he no longer heeded her at all, his gaze roving sharply over the crowd before him.

"Master," she muttered, dipping into a low kneel before turning to join the servant-girl.

She cursed the clenching ache in her chest as they walked toward the servant's entrance. Don't be foolish, Fawn, she chastised herself. He doesn't mean what he said. He doesn't want you to suffer all night in soiled clothing.

Still, it bit most cruelly.

It wasn't even the harshness of his words she couldn't bear. It was something deeper, weaker, more raw. It was the way she was forced to watch his tenderness for her snuffed out before her very eyes. To feel, even for a brief moment, what she had felt that fated evening at the summerhouse when he had sent her away for good.

To know that she alone, in all the kingdom, had won his love, and then had lost it.

As she neared the entrance-way along the wall, his deep voice broke over her, singling her out once more from the crowds. Her heart leapt foolishly in response.

"Do hurry back slave," he hummed, sipping his freshly poured wine. "For the night is long, and you are needed by my side."

***

Josie glanced backward frantically, neck straining to keep an eye on Fawn as countless faces swarmed her view.

She had to save her. She had to get her away from the King.

The features of the crowd seemed to double in her swimming vision, bodies sweeping her helplessly back toward the long, banquet benches. When she finally broke from the bustling crowd, she had lost sight of Fawn altogether.

Josie grasped the nearby table, fighting the urge to be violently sick. She had never felt such weakness in her life; the shock of seeing her friend so debased must have been great indeed. Steadying herself, she gazed upward, half-expecting her own horror to be mirrored on the faces of the other guests. Instead, she was met with raucous laughter and cheerful cries, the revelers making merry with one another as they toasted heartily to the sumptuousness of the Godking's feast. They hadn't noticed the slave in the slightest.

It was as if something within Josie came dislodged.

Turning about herself in a daze, she seemed to see the hall transformed: no longer opulent but decadent, no longer luxurious but depraved. And to think, only a moment ago, she too had indulged thoughtlessly in such blackened vice. All while Fawn kneeled enslaved upon the cold stone, plaything to the nation's tyrant.

Josie felt herself grow hot, every fibre of her being reignited with a visceral loathing.

The Godking would burn for this.

"My darling, there you are!" John's plump face crowded her vision, ushering her forward into her seat. "Why you look absolutely impassioned," he chuckled. "It was the king's speech wasn't it. What rousing words, and such conviction! A righteous ruler at last!"

Josie snapped her head towards him, her face aghast. "Righteous? John has the drink addled your mind?"

"And to think, my forefathers were once only landless serfs..." he chortled to himself, "and now their descendant walks among the gentry, dines before the King himself!"

She looked frantically across the table, her eyes petitioning the other South Agrarian merchants.

"Do not tell me you believe such nonsense?" she demanded. "Have you forgotten why we're here? The Godking has emptied our silos, ravaged our crop! His words are poison!"

The men shifted uneasily in their chairs, glancing about themselves as if they may be overheard.

"Keep yer voice down, lass," someone muttered. "Are ye tryin' to get us all killed?"

She turned toward the others indignantly, her voice unwavering. "Henry, Frederick. Your sons died in the Godking wars. Surely your loyalties are not so easily bought?"

Henry made a hushing motion with his rough hands, leaning across the table. When he was sure no one outside the company was eavesdropping, he spoke.

"If ye ask me, it were Lord Edmund Wolfe who called my son to war, not the Godking," he growled. "Man should of 'ad the stones to know when he was defeated."

"He's right, Josie." Frederick spoke softly. "Taxes are high, yes, but the Kingdom is stable. Brother no longer fights brother simply because their lord commands it. The country is unified. Better our earnings are spent in the service of peace than filling the coffers for endless war."

"And what about those who will starve to death from the tariffs?" she demanded. "Those sold off to pay our debts? What of Fawn Braegon?"

Frederick hesitated, tongue skating over his lips. "Her fate is unfortunate, indeed. But she chose her own path. Besides," he added, "the sacrifice of several is a small price to pay for the freedom of thousands."

Josie looked about herself incredulously, blood roaring in her ears. "Sacrifice? Sacrifice! How dare you speak of sacrifice when - "

"I daresay, Josie, that's quite enough."

The words struck her like a slap.

Beside her, John was staring straight ahead, sipping tensely on his wine.
He leaned discretely toward her, his thin lips scarcely parting as his voice dropped.

"Now, I know you've been quite hysterical over your friend's departure, and that has made you act in ways that are not...befitting of your sex...but listen to me. I will not be made a fool before my King and my peers. You and I are soon to be married; it is time you understand that your loyalty lies with your husband and with the Higglesby name. I trust that in the future, you will find womanly virtue in deferring to me and in staying silent on matters better left to the judgement of men. Yes?"

Josie blinked slowly, shocked into a stupor. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was truly at a loss for words.

"Besides," he scoffed, "look around you. Your circle is only rising. Fawn made her choice, and now you must make yours. I think it about time to sever old associations, don't you?"

He straightened up, oblivious to the look of horror etched into her face. Shaking his coat-sleeve down, he lifted his glass with a smile. "To the Godking!" he called out to the company of merchants. They raised their glasses in turn:

"Long may he reign!"

***

Fawn quickened her pace, slipping on the damp stone of the half-lit tunnels as she tried to keep up with the servant girl. The way was winding, hallways and twisting flights of stairs leading them ever deeper into the labyrinth. She was breathless by the time they finally arrived.

"Through 'ere" the servant pointed.

Fawn peered through the stone archway and into a large common room. There was a fireplace at the far end, a few chairs pulled up haphazardly for warmth. They were all empty now, a testament to the scale of the festivities unfolding upstairs. In the center stood a long and sturdy farmhouse table, several loaves of hard bread and a cup of ale left abandoned there. Dark wooden wardrobes lined the far side of the left wall. It must have been where they kept the linens.

Fawn turned back toward the girl, placing her hand lightly on her arm. "Thank you," she smiled kindly.

The girl recoiled as if she'd been burned. "I do as am ordered by 'is majesty," she muttered. "Nothin' more. Ye can find ye're own way back."

Fawn smarted as the girl turned abruptly on her heel, disappearing down the hallway without another word. Had she done something to offend?

"Nevermind," she consoled herself, swallowing the growing lump in her throat as she made her way over to the looming mahogany closets. She didn't want to admit it, but Thomas' own coldness to her this evening had been gnawing all too persistently at her heart.

She shivered as she stripped down to her skin, the hearth's flames far too low for the draughty, stone room. Eyes darting about modestly, she quickly pulled on fresh, clean undergarments before sifting through the piles of neatly folded servant's clothing.

The cloth was plain but well-kept; better than most of the clothing she'd had in Windemere. Some small part of her was quieted knowing that the servants here were not kept in dire conditions.

Proof that the Godking was a merciful master indeed, she assured herself.

Not wanting to draw any undue attention to herself, Fawn settled on a coarse, brown wool for her outer skirt and a tunic of faded cream. As she sorted through the bodices, her fingers grazed over a finer piece of deep, forest green. She couldn't help but pick it up; it matched her mother's ribbon wound deftly around her wrist: a small indulgence in her lowly state. But it was more than that...

Thomas would have laughed at her, but there was something about the colour that made her feel calmer, more grounded...like she was back at home wandering through the Wintermar woods.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in a steadying breath as she conjured up the lush, moss-blanketed forest. She could hear the breeze threading gently through the branches and nudging the flickering leaves. Thomas' laughter rung out deeply in the distance, steadying her like roots beneath the old-growth trees. His voice seemed to drift back to her then, words he had spoken just moments before they entered the grand hall tonight:

"Whatever happens in there today, you must remember the parts we play. You must remain steadfast, Fawn."

She nodded, her fear growing.

"And above all, you must trust me. Implicitly. Trust that I will not let you come to harm. Trust that the words I speak in public are for your safety, and not the truth of my heart. Trust that I love you."

She looked ahead, her eyes blank with mounting fear.

"Fawn, do you trust me?"

She looked up at him, almost startled as his thumb grazed her face.

"Yes, Thomas. I trust you..."

The clatter of dishes from a room beyond startled Fawn back to the present. Cinching the lacing tightly across her flat chest, she laid her soiled garments over the fireplace chair to dry and slipped back into the gloomy halls.

***

Upstairs, the feast was in full swing, the revelers gorging on the sweet meats of pheasant, wild boar and deer. The sight nauseated Josie. Unwilling to stomach even a bite, she rose, excusing herself furiously from the company. John nodded in distraction, filling up his cup once more. "More wine!" he called out to the servants laughing.

She shouldn't have been surprised by his behaviour, not really. After all, she knew better than any how utterly useless he was. Still, his words had come as a shock. She had always held the sway of power in their relationship...he'd been pining after her for years. Had the Godking's sudden favour truly given him such pretensions?

"Ridiculous man," she muttered, pushing forth through the crowd. She expertly shook off a group of rowdy merchants trying to cajole her into joining their ale song.

To have allowed herself to be so affected by John was a temporary weakness, and one she would not repeat. Now that he had shown his true feelings, she was glad she hadn't revealed her sighting of Fawn. The goddess only knew what havoc he'd wreak with the knowledge.

But there was something she herself couldn't quite understand. If Fawn was the Godking's slave, then why on earth were the guards still searching the city for her?

Unless...

Josie stiffened, a flicker of fear shooting up her spine.

The Godking didn't realize who his slave truly was.

The gears of her mind began to turn, piecing together the collection of fragments and rumours.

For whatever reason, Fawn was hiding her true identity from the King, from everyone at court. And if the soldiers at the gate were anything to go by...she was in more trouble than Josie originally imagined.

Josie wandered toward the balustrade her eyes scanning the room for her friend as she weaved through the boisterous revelers.

If she could somehow only get Fawn's attention...get her away for just a moment and figure out what was going on...

A velveteen voice slipped through the din.

"Company not to your liking?"

She turned abruptly, finding herself face-to-face once again with Sir Silas Courtier.

"My lord," she uttered, dropping into a small curtsy to mask her surprise. Her heart fluttered up in greeting, despite the gravity of her mood.

"So, you do remember my name!" he exclaimed. "Be still my heart, there is a chance she loves me yet!"

Josie's lips pursed at his teasing, but her smile was brief.

"Ah," he moved in closer, his tone dropping. "This speaks of something serious. What troubles you my dear."

Josie's heart spiked at his body drew closer to hers. Why couldn't John be so attentive to her feelings?

She paused for a moment, resting her hand upon the railing as she glanced about the room. While she undoubtedly relished in Silas' attentions, she wasn't so foolish as to wholly trust him. Feigning disinterest, she chose her words carefully.

"The banquet. It's just all so...indulgent, don't you think?"

He laughed easily, turning to face the room himself. He tilted his head down toward her as if she were a confidante. "I must say, that is not a sentiment I am accustomed to. But I suppose you're right; it is a rather garish show of power from our good King, keeping up appearances and the like." His voice dropped richly. "Though I must say, I cannot speak ill of anything that brings you to my side."

Josie's face flushed in surprise, her full lips parting. Were there indeed others who shared her feelings on the Godking? And ones so high-ranking?

"Oh, but don't look so shocked my dear!" His lips quirked into a wry smile. "Our mighty god is all too aware of my feelings on that matter. As I'm sure you are all too aware of my feelings on the other," he winked.

"Come," he offered his hand. "Join me at my table. I must not lose you again."

Josie allowed herself to be escorted back to Silas' party. Her pulse thrummed with the thrill of being seen with the lord, his soft, cool hand guiding her expertly through the crowd. Her heart surged, however, when she saw how closely his group of lords and ladies sat to the King...nothing but a few tables and a large, rounded perimeter of space left between them and the titan himself.

She nodded politely as Silas introduced her, the lords welcoming her warmly into their midst before turning back to their own conversations. As she sat down, she caught the gaze of the beautiful woman from earlier, her gown of midnight blue ruffling effortlessly about her. She looked between Silas and Josie for a moment, her lip curling in disdain. Turning toward her friend, she began to whisper, the two ladies glancing at Josie's clothing then tittering in amusement.

Josie tipped her jaw up with pride. She was no stranger to petty jealousies.

Give me ten minutes alone with him, she threatened silently. Then we'll see who's laughing.

Besides, she had more more pressing matters to attend to. From here, she was as close to the Godking's seat as she could get without rousing suspicion. As long as she remained in Silas' graces, she may yet have a chance of catching Fawn's attention discretely.

But where had her friend disappeared to?

"Looking for something my dear?" Silas questioned, his brow arching languidly as he handed her a glass.

Josie quickly turned her attention back to the lord, her voice silky and sweet.

"Ah," she smiled, "so this is where they're hiding the good wine."

***

Fawn stumbled onward through the deep and winding passageways, her nerves growing more and more restless in the dark, enclosed space. She had been walking for what seemed an eternity, and feared now that she had gotten herself hopelessly lost. Of course, her disorientation did nothing to ease her panic, but for the last few minutes, she couldn't seem to shake the uncanny feeling she was being followed. As she hurried toward the next corner, a cold and nameless fear pricked uneasily at the back of her neck...

Fawn's scream was stifled by a large hand, her body pulled back into the solid warmth of a broad chest.

"Easy, easy, my lady."

The hand retreated, releasing her gently.

She knew that voice.

"Lord Garrick?" she turned around, breathing out shakily.

He steadied her by the shoulders, his eyes shimmering like precious jade in the dark.

"Forgive me for alarming you," he whispered. "I didn't want to risk calling out your name so recklessly in these tunnels. There are many eyes that watch from the shadows, many ears waiting to catch an echo. Come with me. Quietly now."

Glancing about herself, Fawn followed him soundlessly into a small alcove at the end of the passage. From here they had a clear view of the low-lit tunnels, but were hidden in the shadows from prying eyes.

He turned to look at her, sadness etched into his proud features.

"So..." he uttered. "You begged for his mercy and he made you his Kingslave..."

Fawn looked down, her chest clenching in shame. She didn't know what it was about Garrick that made her so conscious of her own failings, so desperate to explain herself. Though she hadn't flinched when discussing it with Thomas, hearing him say it pained her deeply...

"It's...it's not what I had hoped," she whispered.

He rubbed his hand haggardly over his broad jaw. "They're looking for you everywhere you know..."

Fawn's eyes shot up to his in fear.

His hands raised up, calming her gently. "I will not betray your secret, Fawn. I -"

They both stiffened as the sound of muted conversation echoed up from the deep recesses of the tunnel. Garrick's hand rose lightly to her shoulder, a sign to wait silently. She exhaled raggedly as the noise tapered off, the footsteps receding down some other forlorn passageway. His hand remained upon her for a moment, before the warmth of it receded.

She looked up at him, her eyes beseeching his. "Listen to me, Garrick. No one must know who I am. As long as they believe Fawn Braegon is out there, as long as she evades capture -"

"Then you are safe," he nodded. "You have my word, Fawn. You know you do. But I must warn you, there is someone else - "

This time, the clatter of footsteps drew closer. Someone was coming directly toward them.

Garrick froze.

"It's not safe to talk here," he whispered. "Go. It's a servant boy. He'll show you the way out."

She took a step forward before turning back anxiously. "But the warning -"

"Go!" he urged. "Quickly! And please...do not wander these tunnels alone again!"

She nodded nervously, stepping out into the low ring of torchlight. Steeling herself as the servant approached, she risked a final glance back to where Garrick had stood.

But the alcove was empty, the golden lord already lost to the shapeless shadows of the Godking's castle.

***

Author's Note

Happy 2020 babies! First off, a big thank you to everyone who read my short book The Stocking. It was really fun to write and to imagine Fawn/Thomas in another way (go check it out if you haven't yet!) . I have to say I'm really excited to get back to the angst of The Godking though...there are some explosive moments coming up in the next chapters and I can't wait to share them with you all.

Okay, let's talk. Thomas' public persona and Fawn's nagging doubts. Garrick's shadowy appearance/warning. Josie trying to free Fawn. Whew. Things are heating up.

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