Alina practically stumbled from the main house through the field that led to her shack. Her feet felt as though they might fall right off and she couldn't say she'd be sad to see them go. From the moment she'd arrived at the villa she'd run from one task to the next, carrying load after load of laundry, supervising and cooking meals, cleaning and polishing every bit of wood and silver in the damn place. And that had been just the beginning.
The last hours had been spent with Yulia in her chamber. Alina had bathed, waxed, dried, and buffed her mistress until she was sure that her fingers had been ground to mere stubs. Her shaking hands, cracked and bleeding in places had then been put to the task of styling Yulia's mass of black hair. It was naturally bone straight and the bitch was dead-set on having it curled all over. Alina was sure that this was a decision made purely to torture her. She'd get the last laugh on that one though -- more than a lock or two of Yulia's famous hair had burned off in the process.
Once her hair was done, Yulia had directed Alina to cake layer after layer of make-up onto her face. By the time she was finished, Yulia looked more like a Painted Lady than the daughter of a knight. Yulia was well pleased. Had Alina not been so worn down, she might have laughed.
Now, though, Alina would have to set to the task of making herself presentable enough to serve at the ball. The last thing she wanted was to stand out, and covered in grime she surely would. Glancing at the sinking sun, she surmised that had no more than an hour to bathe and change. Perhaps she'd have just enough time to finally get some food into her belly and rest her tired feet. The thought of a small respite was enough to spur her on a bit faster.
She pushed the door to her shack open and the sight of the empty space brought on the realization that Corina was truly gone. The pain of her loss hit Alina afresh. Her exhausted mind tried to reach for a silver lining in the situation, but she came away only with --
At least I'll have the cot to myself.
Then aloud she sighed, "But I will surely freeze in the night without the extra body heat."
Refusing to allow the ever-encroaching despair to swallow her up, Alina snatched up the simple black dress she'd be wearing for the night as well as some simple toiletries and made her way to the creek at the bottom of the hill behind the shack. She'd bathe and change there, then hurry back home for a quick bite to eat.
{|*|*|}
Balior raked a frustrated hand through his longish sable hair and heaved a sigh. He'd visited five villas today, each time hoping that his mate dwelled within only to be left wanting at every turn. It had taken the entire day just to get through those five and he worried now that the search might prove nearly endless.
Where are you, Ahlia?
He mused.
Do you hide yourself from me even now?
He realized he'd truly been wandering, had lost track of time, when he looked around at his surroundings. He was on the edge of the forest and as he gazed over the rolling meadow he saw that it was dotted with little shacks.
Servants' quarters?
In all his long years of life, this was one thing he had yet to see for himself. The servants back home lived in medium-sized villas scattered throughout his family's massive estate.
Hell,
he thought,
they live in opulence compared to this!
His family's servants were treated as members of the household, never overworked or abused. They were happy,
choosing
to stay with the Sanguines. Many of them had inherited their place in the Sanguine household and as they married and their own families grew, the new additions were welcomed into the fold.
The sight of these shacks, such poverty, was incomprehensible to him. How could the lords of this land let their people live this way? Then, he realized that much of this was his own fault. He'd long ignored his seat at Lyrisa, choosing instead to dally in the capitol, far from any real responsibility.
