Free The Cold King by Amber Jaeger

hard time adjusting to my new shoes.”
    The king cocked his head, the dreadful mask obscuring his feelings and mood as always. “Do they not suit you?”
    She carefully shifted from one bloody foot to another. “Perhaps I could have my old shoes…”
    He gave a harsh laugh. “Never. Never would I allow you wear those ugly things in my palace. Continue to wear the shoes I gave you, you will get used to them.”
    Calia gave a little nod and tottered to her chair. With great relief she settled into it and took a little of the pressure of her abused feet. It took everything she had not to kick the shoes off and away. Not only would it not be appropriate, she wasn’t sure she would be able to get them back on later.
    Leaving for her own lunch and returning to serve the king was torture and she did it with her jaw firmly closed against her little moans of pain. Dinner was even harder and the instant she was freed from her duties she limped over to her rooms were Iago was waiting for her.
    “There’s water in the tub, you’ll need to soak your feet.”
    She nodded gratefully and stumbled past him, pulling of her evil shoes and bloody stockings as she went. The tub was only filled shallowly and steamed with fragrant water. With a sigh she eased her feet in. When the water cooled off she reluctantly dried her feet on a rug and limped back out to Iago.
    He looked at her feet and grimaced. “First pair of new shoes?” he asked.
    “How does everyone know?”
    He gave a low chuckle. “Most of us received our first pair of new shoes here. Not the luxury we were expecting, but your feet are the worst I have seen. Have you asked the king to allow different shoes?”
    She sighed and tried to not flinch as he applied ointment to her raw heels. “He wants me to wear these shoes.”
    Iago nodded. “Appearance is very important to him.”
    “But it’s my feet.”
    “Yes, and you are his servant. He wants you to be the best representation of him you can be.”
    “Well I do not see how I am going to accomplish that limping around on bloody feet.”
    Iago sighed and continued bandaging. “I am sure the shoes will wear in soon and your feet will heal. The most important thing is to not let infection set in.”
    He instructed her on soaking her feet, applying ointment and how to bandage them at night so her feet would fit in the shoes in the morning. She listened with growing horror and anger. Surely the man would relent when he saw her sheer agony.

    But he did not, or he chose to ignore it, and her pain lasted for several days. Help finally came from the most unexpected place.
    One morning, while Calia sat miserably in her chair with her terrible stitching in hand, a knock came at the Cold Kings door. Perhaps taking pity on her, he called for the person to enter instead of making her properly answer it.
    Marchello stepped in, holding a silver platter with an envelope on it. “For you, my lord,” he said in his deep rumbling voice. He bowed as he presented the platter and held it up for the Cold King to take his letter. The king dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Marchello turned to leave but paused at the door.
    “Miss Calia,” he said, causing her head to snap up. “Might I say your shoes are absolutely delightful? That style was always my favorite when I was younger and I’ve waited years for them to be back into vogue. They are so much more lady like than the dreadful flat ankle boots I see on the ladies so recently. I said as much to the dressmaker but she seems to think they will soon be all the rage.”
    He added a wink and Calia nearly fell out of her chair but she stilled herself as the Cold King looked her up and down.
    “That is all, Marchello. But please send word to Imogene that I require her. Today.”
    When the dressmaker arrived later that evening the Cold King cornered her, all the while pointing at his servant’s feet. Calia clutched her needle and thread to her chest, hoping against hope she would