HIM
I adjust the cuff of my servant jacket. Though it fits now, I still feel like I'm playing dress-up. It smells faintly of soap and woodsmoke from drying by the fire. It's extra important that I look my best, according to Mr. Stephens, because it's Christmas day.
Christmas garlands loop up the banisters, and a grand tree guards the great hall. Downstairs, in the servants' work area and quarters, there is less grandeur—crooked garlands, cheap wine and leftover mince pies—and yet I've never seen the place so alive.
And yet, all I can think of is her. Laura, cheek smudged with flour, lips parted in a quiet breath as she leaned into my hand. And her eyes—God, her eyes. For the first time they looked at me, and I could see nothing but openness. Wide and brown like a doe's, rimmed with red and glistening with tears, she looked at me like I mattered. The moment lingered all week like a bruise—tender and impossible to ignore.
They hadn't spoken since. Too busy. But also, I was afraid of what I might say—or do—if she looked at me like that again.
I'm brought back to the present by the sound of Mamka yelling at people in the kitchen. I smile instinctively and dive into the chaos.
My heart stalls when I see her, sleeves rolled up, a concentrated set to her brow. Limonskiy seems to have won over Mamka, which few have ever achieved. They work together, Limonskiy's calm determination balancing out Mamka's nervous energy. My heart seems to swell in my chest, almost painfully. This girl is something else.
Her eyes snap to me, and I swear her cheeks tinge the most endearing shade of pink. I walk over and take out the dish she holds out to me.
Time seems to stop, the world narrowing to just us two. Our hands brush ever so slightly, and I have to fight the urge to throw the dish aside and leap over the counter to her. To do what I have no idea. Touch her again?
Before I have time to decide, Mamka is yelling obscenities at me. I shake off the weight of the moment—the weight of my feelings—and break the tension with an easy laugh and a wink. But when I make it to the hallway, I can no longer hold back the violent blush that takes over my face.
I just hope it goes away before I walk into the dining room.
HER
Barrels of mulled wine had been delivered, and baking made the whole downstairs smell like orange and cinnamon. Winter had truly come to stay, packing the grounds with snow and trees with frost. Now was the time of year for staying in, and guests arrived to spend the holidays. The lord's quiet younger brother and his timid wife were the only additions, but made all the difference.
It seemed the house was going to be a blend of traditions. A fancy dinner was planned with Christmas crackers and minced pie. On the other hand, a grand dance was to be had, a tradition of the lady of the house. Apparently, back in Slavokraina, they held an assembly every year in the town hall on Christmas. That, and a table covered with hay and white cloth, as well as traditional Slavokrainan food, would decorate the great hall, and all the servants would be invited—as a compromise from having Christmas in January, as it is in Slavokraina.
The servants work tirelessly to make everything perfect for both aspects of the day. When the big day finally arrived, everyone was buzzing and the winter magic was thick in the air. The family has Christmas breakfast and gives the staff simple gifts, mostly for ease of work. They decided to have an early dinner to make sure the dance was not too late, so Mrs. Kozlov was in a tizzy, making the best-looking and best-smelling food I've ever seen.
Ever since the cookie night a week ago, I had come to appreciate her presence much more, and spent most of my time in the kitchen. We never talk—except in broken Slavokrainan and Anglorian—as she teaches me and I teach her.
I'm helping her order the dishes for the footmen, to spare her poor kitchen maids, who had been yelled at all morning, when Aleksi walks in for the first dish. I lift the first one and hand it to him, not speaking. Our hands brush under the dish, and we look at each other a moment before Mrs. Kozlov yells some, I'm assuming, very unflattering things at him. He laughs, winks at me, and leaves.
She whacks me gently with the spoon and ushers me back over the food, but I can't help glancing at the doorway he went through.
Though my relationship with Mrs. Kozlov had become clearer, my relationship with Aleksi had never been so confusing. But we've been so busy we haven't had a moment to talk.
I'm a little relieved. I don't know how to explain what happened that night—when I cried and he… comforted. The embarrassment still stalls me when it pops into my head, making my whole body grimace and flutter. At least, with us being busy, I haven't had the chance to do anything else that would make the feeling any more intense.
I long for a pillow to groan into but settle for shaking the thoughts from my head and getting back to the task at hand.
After the dinner, the staff relaxed and had our own lunch, lounging for a few precious moments, full and happy, before the bustle of tonight started.
It's such a shock when the young lady walks in it takes us all a moment to stand in her presence.
Seeing her suddenly is like seeing the sun suddenly break through fluffy clouds. Completely dazzling.
"Lady Anna, what can we do for you?" Mr. Stephens asks quickly, even him flustered by her.
"I just need… uh—where is she? Laura!"
When her eyes meet mine they sparkle with a glee that has grown familiar to me these past few months.
She rushes over to me, still in her dazzling regalia from the dinner, except her hair is loosened and she is flush with joy. It's like her joy is contagious, radiating off her in waves and infecting those around her.
She attempts a serious expression in jest—"I need you immediately"-Before breaking out in a mischievous grin and dragging me away.
Though I had been keeping a very clear divide between us, it was hard not to go along with her schemes and get swept up in her energy. Something about her just made you want to lean in, to listen, and go along with her, in the hopes that you could be more like her.
At only 17, she had unwittingly become a sort of little sister figure, but I tried to keep my distance and my mouth shut. A goal she did not share. She was constantly asking questions about not just me but the village and other staff. Her outgoing nature would make a conversationalist out of even the most boring person.
Now, being dragged along behind her, it is all I can do to keep from tripping in haste, an exasperated smile on my face.
HIM
As I watch Laura disappear in a blur behind Lady Anna, I smile, my heart once again swelling.
I am not the only one here who sees her—who is looking out for her. Between Adah, Mamka, Lady Anna and I, maybe, just maybe, we can help her out of this darkness that seems to follow her.
Hope blooms in my heart—so raw and vulnerable a part of me wants to hide it, push her away. But I know I never could, not for long anyway.
I don't think I ever really had a choice.