The Caste Marked Read online

  The Caste Marked

  By Mariah Esterly

  Copyright Ó 2017 Mariah Esterly

  Visit my website

  www.mariahesterly.com/

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  Cover art by Savannah Storms

  www.facebook.com/savannahstormsart/

  For every persistent girl,

  Keep persisting.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  SERRA

  Malvern’s Ward, County Lyre, Iperia

  30th September 518

  When word reached Malvern’s Ward of young Prince Doran’s disappearance the people shook their heads sadly, knowing he would not be returned. Over the last three years over fifty children had gone missing from their homes across Iperia and not one had been found.

  Although the news was sad indeed, Serra Ashworth could not dwell on it. She simply did not have the time. Out of breath from running through the large stone house of her employer, the Grand Lord of County Lyre, Serra burst into the room of her oldest friend and mistress, Lady Evalyne Senillion, first and only daughter to the Grand Lord.

  “I have it! I have it! I had to go all the way to the temple garden to get it, but I have it.” She wiped a hand across her damp brow and handed the small white flowers to her friend. “Can you believe that the only place Maiden’s Flowers grow in Malvern’s Ward is at the temple? Why aren’t there any in the manor garden?”

  Evalyne smiled and shrugged, then turned to the mirror to arrange the flowers in her swept up hair. The tiny white petals made a startling contrast to the rich inky black. “I can’t believe that Nessa forgot to fetch them this morning. I’m sorry to have made you run all that way.”

  Serra smiled and placed her hands on her friend’s creamy shoulders. “I don’t mind, Eva. I truly don’t. This way I got to pick the best of the bunch. Besides, Nessa has a terrible eye when it comes to pretty things. She was like to come back with flowers that were bent and brown, just like the man she’s seeing. Have you ever seen a less attractive swain?”

  Evalyne gave Serra a look in the mirror. “What?” Serra asked, mock surprise clear on her face. “Was that unkind? Even with no one to hear but you?”

  Eva went back to arranging the flowers just so. “It was unkind… however true it may be.” She paused. “Have you been spending more time in the stables? You know my father doesn’t like it.”

  Serra winced knowing it was her use of slang that had given her away, but in the next instant a coy smile played across her lips. “And yet I do it anyway. I am a very bad servant.”

  “Serra.” Eva’s tone was warning.

  “I know. I know. But I like it down there. There are no pretenses. Everyone in the stables knows I’m an orphan. I don’t have to play at being a lady. Besides, those stable boys teach me things I’d never learn if I stayed put in the Great House.”

  “Serra!” Evalyne’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t want to know.”

  Serra knew what Eva thought, that she had let one of the muscled stable hands lay with her in the hay, but the truth was she learned things like how to spit, how to play dice and how to fight. Serra did not let her friend in on the secret. She liked to have the older girl think that Serra had experienced something Eva had not.

  Eva stood and gave herself one last look in the mirror. “Well, what do you think?”

  Serra examined her friend closely. Eva’s long black hair was immaculately piled high, with tiny tendrils artistically draped to show off the curve of her slim neck. The two of them had spent countless hours in the last month to get the style just right. Her face was perfection. Her creamy skin was accented by just the tiniest bit of pink in her cheeks which made her bright blue eyes even more radiant.

  Her dress was sure to raise a few eyebrows. The silky material was white, as all dresses were on a young woman’s Maiden’s Day, and cut close to the body, showing off every curve of Eva’s lush seventeen year old frame. The neckline was low enough to show just a hint of her cleavage, and the three draping necklaces the same blue as her eyes drew attention to just the right places. The short sleeves revealed Eva’s Caste Mark, an intricate swirling design that started on the back of her left hand and twisted up to her elbow.

  Everyone in Iperia had one. The Mark was a way of branding a person. The design revealed the lineage of the barer. Among the nobility it was all the rage to wear clothes that displayed their Caste Marks. The shorter the sleeve the more important the person appeared.

  Lower class people, servants and villagers, bore a design only on the backs of their hands, some with no more than the symbol of the town they were born in.

  Serra did not have a Mark.

  When she was a baby one of the few travelling mages in Iperia had passed through town and tried to make her Caste Mark come to light. They knew nothing of Serra’s father and so had based the Mark on her mother, a servant in the Grand Lord’s house, born in an unnamed village in County Talmon. It appeared just long enough for the mage to leave, then the swirling design had simply disappeared.

  Serra reached out and twitched a piece of Eva’s hair, so that it fell in front of her ear. “I think your father is going to have a heart attack when he sees you.”

  Eva smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. “I don’t care. It is my Maiden’s Day and I am a woman now. I will wear what I choose. Besides, Mother approved my dress choice.”

  “Spoken like a true noble. “The bells in the temple rang, announcing the time. “Fifteen till the hour.” Serra said. “You had better hurry.”

  “You aren’t coming?”

  Serra shook her head. “I have to stay here to help prepare for the party.” In truth, she wanted to go. She and Eva had been friends since before either of them could remember. Missing her Maiden’s Day tore at Serra’s heart. This was the first big event in Eva’s life and she was going to miss it.

  Evalyne must have seen something in Serra’s eyes, because she hugged her friend close and said, “I can throw a fit and tell Father I need you there.”

  Serra blinked hard and pulled back, forcing a smile to her face. “Don’t be silly. A Lady’s Maiden’s Day is no place for a servant. Besides, Rose will have my hide if I’m not there to help in the kitchen.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Serra nodded. “I’m certain.”

  Eva hugged her again and then left to make her way downstairs and to the temple. Serra went to the window and watched as the Grand Lord handed his daughter, demurely
covered in a long white cloak, into the waiting carriage.

  Serra lingered in the room, straightening non-existent wrinkles in the bed spread. Despite what she had told Eva, Rose did not expect her in the kitchen. She had the day free, at least until Eva needed her again.

  Serra sat at the wood dressing table and put lids onto the pots of cosmetics that Evalyne had used. That finished she propped her head in her hand and considered the mirror. It was one of two in the whole house. The other mirror was in Lady Hadrienne’s dressing room. Serra very rarely liked what either of the mirrors showed her.

  She picked up some spare hairpins and coiled her long brown braid around her head and secured it. Only girls who had reached the age of seventeen years could wear their hair up. It was considered a sign that they were a woman and so eligible for marriage. Serra’s birthing day was in one month and she too would be able to pin her hair into intricate up dos, but she was not interested in getting married.

  Serra tried to imagine what her own Maiden’s Day would be like. Perhaps Grand Lord Jefry would give her a party. Certainly not one as large as Eva’s but a small one. After all, she had been raised in Malvern’s Ward from the time she was a baby. Her mother had been a maid in the Grand Lord’s house, but had died giving birth to Serra. As a result, Serra had been raised by the staff, playing alongside Eva, who had been born a mere month earlier.

  All through their lives, Eva and Serra had been inseparable, much to the chagrin of Eva’s mother, Lady Hadrienne. Over the years, the Grand Lord’s wife had tried to split them up countless times, and Eva had thrown fits that lasted long enough for her parents to give in to her. As a result, Serra had attended all of Eva’s lessons in reading, writing and etiquette. She had learned to sew and embroider. She had learned how to ride a horse like a lady, how to identify the symbols in Caste Marks and how to dance the right steps at a ball. She had learned how to interact with nobles without embarrassing the Grand Lord and Lady. Everything considered useless for a servant to know, and even more useless for an orphan. Still, it had made her suitable to be Eva’s lady’s maid, which made it possible for them to spend more time together.

  The longest they’d been separated had been for six weeks when Lady Hadrienne and Eva had travelled to Carpius for one of the Princes’ birthday celebrations and to meet with a seamstress to design Eva’s Maiden’s Day dress. Lady Hadrienne had flat out refused to bring a servant with no Mark to the palace. She feared it would hurt Eva’s chances of making an eligible match. And no matter how Eva pouted, her mother would not be swayed.

  Eva had told her later that she’d ignored her mother the entire trip as punishment, but she’d thoroughly enjoyed her time at the palace. Serra had felt her heart drop at that, knowing that it was just a matter of time before her friend left for grander things, and she would be left here, with only Lady Hadrienne for company.

  Shaking her head, she stood up and smoothed out the fabric of her grey dress, the same grey dress that every other female servant wore. It was covered in a lace trimmed white apron. The only good thing that Serra could say about it was that it was clean. The color did nothing to enhance Serra’s pale skin or blue-green eyes and certainly didn’t show off her trim figure.

  “Serra?” a knock sounded at the door. “Serra, are you in there?”

  Serra recognized the voice immediately. As quickly as she could, she pulled the pins from her head and placed them back in their mahogany box. Just as Serra was smoothing down her hair, the door opened. Nessa poked her blond head in. “Oh, there you are!’ she sounded surprised although Serra knew she was not.

  “Yes, I am just straightening up.” Serra reached out blindly and nudged a silver backed hairbrush a little to the right.

  “Well, I hate to ask it of you, but they need a little extra help down in the stable with all of the visiting horses. Bull asked me to see if you would be so kind.”

  Bull was the man that Nessa was in love with. “Oh, really? What were you doing in the stables with Bull when he asked?”

  Nessa’s face reddened. “I was just- I was merely passing by when he stopped me to…”

  “Talk?” Serra offered, helpfully.

  Nessa let out a huff, turned and stalked away. “I was only joking.” Serra called after her.

  Laughing to herself, Serra followed Nessa out of the room. She made her way down the hall to a service stairway and to the servants’ quarters on the fourth floor. If she was going to be working in the stable, it wouldn’t do to wear her maid’s uniform.

  Serra quickly changed into a pair of soft brown leather trousers and a worn out white shirt with a brown leather vest and stuffed her braid into a brown stocking cap. She pulled on a pair of comfortable knee-high leather boots. It was what she commonly wore to stables. No one there would even blink an eye to see her dressed thus. However, if the Grand Lord or his wife saw her dressed in breeches she would be tossed out of the house no matter what Eva said.

  Usually, the difficult part was getting out of the house, but with almost everyone was in the temple or the kitchen it shouldn’t be any trouble. Serra took the servant’s corridor to the guest wing of the house and descended to the second floor. She intended to go down a side stairwell and out a side door where it was only a brief trot to the stables.

  “You there, boy!” a harsh voice stopped her. Startled, Serra spun around and kept her eyes down. She didn’t respond to the obvious command in the man’s voice. If she spoke he would know she was a girl.

  Shiny black boots came into view on the plush red carpet. “Can’t you speak?” Serra shook her head quickly, thankful he had unwittingly given her a reason not to talk. “No, of course, you can’t, bloody backwoods manor. Look at me when I speak to you.”

  Serra carefully raised her eyes. What was he doing here? He should have been at the temple watching Eva’s ceremony. Whoever he was, he didn’t look nice. His black eyes were hard. In fact, everything about him looked hard. His jaw, his eyebrows, his body. Even his blond hair looked as though it had so much pomade holding it together, if Serra reached out her hand and touched it would make a sound like glass. Curious as to who he was, she tried to get a glimpse of his Caste Mark. Most nobles would hold their hands out to everyone they saw, haughty and arrogant. This man kept his hands tucked behind his back as he stood, like Serra had seen soldiers do.

  “I’ve only just arrived and the stable boys, your friends, I presume, have yet to bring up my trunks. I need my things before I can go to the ceremony. Bring them up at once.” He turned and strode away, slamming the door to his chambers behind him.

  Serra let out a whistle and continued on her way. When she reached the stables, she noticed two large trunks stacked by the door. The haughty noble’s, no doubt. Bull was in the back of the large building talking quietly to a fine chestnut horse. She left the trunks and joined him.

  Bull was the same height as Serra, but twice as wide. He wasn’t rotund, but rather broad shouldered and muscled. A red beard covered the bottom half of his face. His brown eyes were always smiling. And, although he wasn’t the most attractive man in the employ of the Grand Lord, Serra liked him.

  “Bull, what do you need me for?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just thought that what with the ceremony and all you wouldn’t want to be knocking around that big house all by your lonesome. I thought we could play some dice or something. Gods’ know Lady Hadrienne wouldn’t let you go to the temple.”

  Serra shrugged, then said. “Thank you, yes, I would like that. By the way there’s a noble on the second floor who’s anxious for his trunks to be brought up.”

  Bull ran a hand through his shaggy red hair. “I know. He can wait a bit longer. He’s pricklier than a porcupine.”

  Serra laughed.

  After half an hour of playing dice Bull had a few of the stable hands take the two trunks to the second floor. Serra was glad she wasn’t set to the task. The noble was most likely not pleased with the slow delivery of his things.

  An hour a
fter that, the bells of the temple began to ring, indicating the end of Eva’s Maiden’s Day ceremony.

  “I had better go. Eva may need something before the party.”

  Serra hurried out of the stable and retraced her steps into the house, keeping her head low. She had long ago learned to imitate the slow swagger that many of the boys her age used. It was useful for situations in which she wished to keep her true gender a secret. Thanks to her ability to mimic Serra had been allowed to travel to places that she normally would have been barred from, such as the local tavern.

  Many a night after being bored stiff with her duties as a lady’s maid she would sneak out of the manor, down the shadowy streets and into the smoky interior of the Rams Head, where she would sit at the bar drink a pint of ale and listen to the local gossip. If anyone asked she was Silas, a stable boy for the Grand Lord. Hardly anyone ever asked.

  Eva disapproved of her forays into the taverns. But short of telling her father about them and getting Serra into so much trouble that no amount of pleading, tears or angry curses would deter him from putting Serra out on the street, Eva was powerless to stop her.

  And Eva did so love the gossip that Serra brought from the village.

  That was how they had first heard of Prince Doran’s disappearance. The young prince had been taken from the palace right under the nose of the royal guard. He had vanished in the middle of the night. No one seemed to have any idea who had taken him, though there was talk about a member of the Prince’s royal guard kidnapping him for ransom.

  Serra didn’t put much stock in that theory, though Eva seemed to think it held some credence.

  Serra reached Eva’s rooms before her friend. She hadn’t bothered to stop in her own small room and change back into her plain grey dress. There were several stashed in Eva’s room for occasions just like this. She found the outfit she’d hung in the very back of Eva’s wardrobe and hurried into the dressing room. As Serra finished changing, Eva swept into the room, her cheeks pink with exhilaration and her blue eyes alight with joy.