Free Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher Page B

good time to be asking questions. Rhea took her empty plate into the scullery and left the other wives alone.  

    She was halfway through the dirty dishes when the house shook.
    It was not the sickening shaking that had accompanied the falling floor. It was only a little stillness and then the whole building shuddered once, as if someone had walked across its grave. A little dust slipped from the beams overhead and pattered across the clean dishes.
    I’ll have to re-rinse those plates , thought Rhea, annoyed, and then, belatedly, the house shook again.  
    Perhaps she was getting used to it. What a vile thought.  
    Maria stuck her head in the door and said “Himself’s home. Best be ready.”
    Rhea paused with her hands full of plates. “Should I go to my room and change?”
    The cook snorted. “And then you’ll be waiting and fretting and the dishes will still need to get done. No, best stay busy. He’ll keep you waiting awhile, you know, just so you know he’s in charge.”  
    Not, thought Rhea grimly, that I’m likely to forget.  
    Maria was right. She had finished the dishes and was pulling off her apron when Ingeth appeared at the kitchen door.  
    She jerked her chin at Rhea.  
    Rhea glanced at Maria. The cook dipped her head and said “Courage, child. But not too much. He plans to break you, and it’ll go easier for you if you bend.”
    Ingeth glowered. In Rhea’s mind, the bird-golems whispered be bold, be bold, but not too bold…
    She wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt, and wished that she still had the hedgehog with her.  
    “Mind the floor,” called Maria. “The clock-wife likes to drop it when Himself’s in residence. Hopes she’ll catch him, but she hasn’t yet.”
    Too bad, thought Rhea.  
    She followed Ingeth out of the kitchen.

    They went up the grand staircase. Rhea gripped the polished banister. It was too slippery to be much use as a support, but it was a solid thing in a house where even the floors weren’t particularly solid.
    Ingeth did not pause at the top of the stairs, and Rhea had to scurry after her.  
    The carpet here was even thicker and softer than it was outside of Rhea’s bedroom. Their feet made no sound at all.  
    There were portraits lining the hallway. She looked up at painted faces that looked down thoughtfully. Some were cruel, some were kind. A few weren’t human. There was one of an eagle wearing a crown, and the eagle’s painted eyes were as thoughtful and intelligent as those of the human man opposite him.
    Be bold, be bold, but not too bold… thought Rhea.
    Ingeth stopped at a door and tapped at it, very lightly. Then she crossed her arms over her breast and stepped back.  
    “Enter,” called Lord Crevan through the door.
    Rhea looked at Ingeth, but Ingeth sank her chin to her crossed wrists and did not look at her.
    Rhea gulped, and set her hand to the door.
    The room inside was paneled in dark wood. It was so dim that Rhea could barely make out any shapes. Presumably there was furniture, and it was not simply an empty room. The carpet muffled her footsteps.  
    There was a single narrow window on the right-hand wall, and in the beam of light it cast, a reading stand with a heavy book on it. Lord Crevan stood in front of the book, turning the pages one by one.
    “Rhea,” he said, looking up.  
    “Milord,” said Rhea, and managed a curtsey this time.  
    He smiled. She didn’t like the look of it. It was the same smile he had worn when the spark had jumped from his hand to hers, the smug smile of a man who believes that he is the smartest person in the room, and who had just done something unspeakably clever.
    Well. Perhaps he had.
    “What do you think of my house, Miss Rhea?”
    She did not like the ‘ Miss. ’ It had mockery in it.  
    “It is very large,” she said.  
    “And what do you think of my wives?” he asked.
    Well.  
    There it was.  
    Apparently they were not going to dance around the topic at all.  
    Rhea bit