To The Moon And Back

Chapter 12: The Slow Spiral

Hour 1

News had spread furiously all throughout the palace as the sun of New Beijing slowly descended, the bruise-colored night sky creeping into the azure-gold atmosphere as if to mirror the current state of the palace. Servants and employees, although they were unaware of what the true emergency was, quietly saw to the needs of the politicians that were there. Windows were closed, conference connections secured, and water and tea brought back and forth from rooms to kitchens. 

Catherine swept up her skirt, the tray of tea that she was holding balancing precariously on her arm. There was only ten minutes left in her shift, and she was anxious to hurry back to her new quarters. Princess Selene had been immensely kind to her, keeping her promises of a new job and new quarters. What the princess could not have forseen or stopped, however, was the amount of gossip from the other servants. Catherine felt their eyes on her every time she went down to the kitchen or down to the servant's parlor to fetch tea or towels.

Today had been her first day back from Channary's ship. Because she had been crammed into the tiny cell for such an extended period of time, her feet were sore and cramped, affecting her speed and giving her a limping gait. She hadn't expected everyone to tolerate her when she had gone to the kitchen to pour tea for Keal O'Pierce. Even so, she had never expected what she had gotten. 

She had paused right before the kitchen on the steps leading to it, letting out a breath to rest her feet. Then she had heard distinct voices coming from the room, picking them out from the sounds of boiling water and roaring flames. 

"So she was there? On the ship?" A horrified voice, low in tone but sweet. Teara, Catherine guessed. She remembered her, particularly because of her height. Teara, although younger than Catherine by two years, was at least five inches taller than her. 

"Yes! And I heard that she ate their food and slept there! How do we know that she isn't-" the voice was lowered "-hasn't been poisoned by them?" The voice continued, matter-of-factly. "Besides, even if she wasn't- and I think that the chances of that are lower than me marrying Prince Kai-" (Laughter from the other servants in the room) "-I would send her out anyway. She's too much of a threat, isn't she? She's already been near them. They could manipulate her more easily. It's too risky."

Cat felt her face heat up. Of course. Only Fang Lin would say things like that behind people's backs. Fang Lin was the oldest serving girl in the kitchen, and if Cat wasn't more clueless about the men that ran to and fro from the basements, she would say that Fang Lin was the oldest of all the servants. Fang Lin wasn't even old; she was only in her mid-twenties. The problem with Fang Lin was that she was a (nicely put) bitch to work with. She wasn't rude or condescending; the problem was that she loved her gossip too much. She wasn't a bad person at heart; Cat knew that Fang Lin would stay late for the servants that were working late shifts and save some fried dough and condensed milk for them. 

No. Cat's real problem with Fang Lin was that she constantly talked behind her colleague's backs about them. Whether it was about how Adriana, the new cook, had eloped with Beatrice, Advisor Konn Torin's maid, or about how Richard Tong, the young aspiring politician in Central New Beijing, had tried to coerce a maid into spending the night with him (and she had almost agreed), Fang Yin knew it all and said it all. And Cat couldn't stand it. It was no surprise to her that Fang Yin was the source of the gossip chain anyway. She had almost expected it.

"That's unfair." A voice rose up from the murmurs, and Cat felt her face redden. There was no true explanation that made sense to her about why her face was suddenly the color of the Commonwealth flag. It was just there. It was just happening. 

"We shouldn't judge her just because she fell into some unfortunate problems." The voice continued, smoothly vehement. Cat knew who it was. She just didn't want to think about it. It was better if she didn't. "We don't know what she went through. She could have been tortured, starved, anything. Maybe we should have more compassion for her."