Cobweb Empire by Vera Nazarian

injured
ankle, but only after Nathan first spread her burgundy winter cape
on top of the servant’s blanket, repeating the same with the other
cot upon which he spread his own dark and expensive winter
greatcoat.
    Now they could at least sit, without
touching the squalor, and pretend that all was well. Eventually as
the room grew even colder and went fully dark with night, they lay
down and wrapped themselves in their outer clothing and slept
fitfully along each wall.
    And now it has been at least a day and a
half, possibly two or even three. Who was counting? The night had
fallen at least twice and no one bothered to provide them with a
proper candle or even a decent hot meal. If one stared through the
miserly small window, there was only bleak sly, a few dingy roofs,
and perpetual winter haze. There were occasional hurried footfalls
in the corridor beyond their cell, and sometimes faintly heard
speech, as servants or guards moved around the Keep.
    Twice a day their door was opened, and some
slovenly, harried maidservant accompanied by a silent guard would
bring them two small wooden plates with bread and possibly cheese,
and a pitcher of water. The food was surprisingly edible, so that
even Nathan did not complain, though he did consume his portion
ravenously, while Amaryllis pecked at hers and hardly ate at
all.
    The maid also took their chamberpot to
empty, which was another horrid discomfort, since the room afforded
no privacy, and Amaryllis was understandably a highborn prude. She
insisted each of them turn to the wall and shut their eyes and ears
when the other made use of the unmentionable item.
    And thus they slept or sat around or paced
the few steps, while hours ran forward without respite.
    It made no difference that each time someone
came to their chamber they both expressed their outrage and
demanded to be let out and to see the Duke, and invoked the name of
the Emperor. The guard outside the door remained impassive, and the
poor maids—a different girl each time—merely curtsied painfully,
and hid their faces, shaking their heads in silence or mumbling
something sufficiently full of mortification.
    “Really, why do you bother?” said Nathan,
after Amaryllis started to stomp her foot, then recalled she had a
sprained ankle, and instead nearly threw the empty plates at the
latest servant.
    “Because I refuse to die here!” hissed
Amaryllis, turning her back to him and striding to the window with
only a minor limp (her ankle was healing reasonably well during
this enforced period of inactivity). Her slim shoulders, clad in
now-rumpled dark red velvet, shook in fury.
    “The circumstances are a bit beyond anyone’s
control just now. Besides, if you recall, these days there is no
death, and thus neither you nor I may have the fortune to abscond
from this grandiose dull torment of a mortal coil. Be glad they are
feeding us at all. Think of the alternative!”
    “Yes, but for how long will they continue to
feed us?”
    “Who knows? Really now, what does anything
matter, darling girl? The world has all gone to hell and there’s no
chicken cutlet to be had. Soon, all that is edible will be gone and
done with. Might as well make merry while we still can.”
    “This, in your opinion, is making merry? You
disappoint me, dearest boy.”
    The young man yawned tiredly, mussing his
once perfectly groomed hair that he had worn, without a wig,
underneath a fur hat that he had long since removed and had been
using for a pillow.
    “Oh, I am so infernally
bored . . .” he drawled. “Remind me why we bothered
to come on this Cobweb Bride adventure? Good lord, whatever were we
thinking?”
    “If I recall, we were thinking of steak. Or
was it you or she that had been thinking of steak?” By “she”
Amaryllis of course meant Ignacia.
    “Do you suppose that even then, this whole
thing was planned in advance? That is—did she orchestrate a clever
machination of sorts, to get us to come out here in the first
place?