The Smile that Wasn’t Meant for Her

Alessandro was in his third glass of wine when he heard a soft knock on his door. "I've arrived, Your Majesty," Lucrezia's voice called out.

"You may enter," he said, putting down the glass on a nearby table and walking towards the center of the room.

Lucrezia came in wearing a sedate evening robe. When she saw that Alessandro was already waiting for her, she smiled seductively and untied the robe, letting it fall to the ground where she stood. She had on a long, flowing nightgown that was so thin and almost transparent that it left very little to the imagination.

Alessandro's eyes darkened with desire at the sight. "Come here, Lucrezia," he ordered, starting to unbutton his shirt. As she temptingly made her way to him, he smelled musk and sandalwood on her. The combination was seductive, and he grabbed her by the waist and buried his nose on her neck.

"Is it to your liking, Your Majesty?" Lucrezia asked, placing her arms on Alessandro's broad shoulders. But he didn't bother answering. Instead, he tightened his hold on her and put his other hand behind her head, pulling on her hairpins and letting her hair cascade loose. Lucrezia's smile became even more alluring. That was why she bothered styling her hair in an intricate knot secured with ornamental hairpins, because she had noticed that the emperor liked to untie it himself.

Alessandro let go of Lucrezia only long enough to take off his shirt. Then he kissed her hungrily and carried her off to his bed. He didn't need more words. He knew exactly what he wanted.

*****

The pantry was rowdy with loud conversations occasionally peppered with boisterous laughter. It was the end of another workday and many servants had gathered to have dinner together. During my first week here, I didn't join in and chose to eat by myself or with 19 and a few of the other maids. After doing such tedious labor for hours on stretch, I just didn't have the energy to deal with coarsely mannered pages and stable boys.

But I had quickly realized that those opting to have the meals at a later time will have to content themselves with whatever was left over by the earlier batch – and that often meant scraps of meat and vegetables, and barely any bread. Few things upset me more than bad food, and that was true in Seoul as much as it was in the empire. So setting aside any misgivings, I started arriving for dinner on time and enjoyed warm soup, freshly baked bread, and adequate slices of meat. Now that was definitely much better.

I wasn't keen on having conversations, and thankfully, my inability to talk resolved that matter for me. Aside from 19, who had no difficulty talking and eating at the same time, the other servants mostly ignored me except for a few random questions thrown my way. Rather than include me, they preferred to talk among themselves and, as a result, I inevitably took front row seat to the palace's hottest gossips. It was like watching a popular talk show on TV – without filters. And because I didn't have any of my gadgets to occupy myself with on my spare time, the lively rumors kept me entertained quite well.

The cook stepped out of the kitchen holding a rectangular, oversized baking pan, and all conversations ceased. It was so quiet I was sure I would hear a needle drop at the moment. "What is that?" a cellar boy ventured to ask. I could see everyone in the room eagerly anticipating the answer. 'It doesn't matter what it is,' I decided. It smelled heavenly, and I would do whatever it took to get at least a small portion of it.

A few of the servants started clearing the table and I grabbed hold of my spoon. As soon as the cook set the tray down, everyone dug in simultaneously and I joined the chaos. It happened so fast it was like a phenomenon – one minute the pan was full, the next it was empty. 'Oh my gosh, I get to have bread pudding!' I mentally squealed. It was my first ever dessert in the empire.

I looked over at 19 who was equally excited about the pudding she had scooped, and I grinned at her. Joining the servants' dinnertime was the best decision I had ever made since I became the owner of this strange girl's body. 'Or perhaps I'm the one who's strange,' I reluctantly admitted, 'since I'm obviously the foreigner here.'

'Oh my gosh, I get to have bread pudding!' Alessandro heard the girl's excited squeal and he grinned. He couldn't help it. It was amazing to him that something so mundane – bread, out of all things – made her very happy. He was on top of Lucrezia, his arms bracing his weight above her. But at the girl's happy statement, his eyes took on a distant look and he got out of bed.

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Lucrezia asked, turning on her side to face him. She saw Alessandro's easy smile and she wondered what he was thinking. He had never smiled at her like that.

"Nothing," Alessandro said, his back turned to her. He started walking to retrieve his previously discarded shirt on the floor. "You can go now."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Lucrezia sat up. The bed held the remnants of a hot encounter, with the sheets all tangled and some of the pillows ending up on the soft carpet. Alessandro was a very passionate and skillful lover, but he had never asked her to spend the night with him. 'It seems tonight is no exception,' she thought, disheartened. She also got out of bed and strode to the sitting room where she had abandoned her evening robe.

"I'll take my leave, Sire," she announced when she was already dressed. Alessandro nodded his assent as he poured himself another glass of wine.

As Lucrezia walked back to the concubine's palace, escorted by her retinue of knights and maids, she pondered on Alessandro's attitude with her. Nothing was amiss that evening. He acted like he always did with her, dominant and impassive – except for that secretive smile. 'Should I be worried about it?' she debated, but then decided to let it pass for the moment. It was just a harmless smile, after all.

Alessandro was reclining in one of the chairs nearby as Rocco changed the sheets and made the bed. He was already in his sleeping robe. With his tasks duly completed and his sexual craving sated, he deemed it a productive day, and he was more than ready to retire. He thought of the girl's excitement over bread pudding and he grinned again. Perhaps there was one more thing he could do before officially turning in.

"Get me some bread pudding," he said.

"Bread pudding, Your Majesty?" Rocco had finished making the bed and he came to stand in front of Alessandro. "What made you suddenly ask for bread pudding, Sire?"

"Why can't I ask for it?" Alessandro curiously wondered.

"It's a dessert for commoners, Your Majesty," Rocco explained. "I've never heard of it being served to the nobility, much less to royalty."

'So she's a commoner,' Alessandro mused. But he didn't consider that fact – if it was indeed true – in a negative light. The girl's personality was vibrant and full of life, and he was getting more interested in her to feign disinterest now. "It doesn't matter. I still want to try it."

"You may need to wait until tomorrow, Your Majesty," Rocco advised. "It takes some time to prepare it, and the chef has already retired."

"Tomorrow is fine," Alessandro conceded. "Serve it with my morning coffee."

*****

Caio was in his office going over the documents he had brought from his meetings that day. The room was done in dark panels of wood and brightly lit with candle lamps, and one wall was entirely dedicated to a shelf full of books. For the most part he was focused on the papers in front of him, but occasionally his mind strayed. His meeting with Concubine Number 20 earlier turned out to be more interesting than he had expected. She was smart and engaging, which was more than what can be said about many of the people he often had to interact with.

A knock made him turn his attention to the door. "I brought you a drink, Your Grace," his butler Noe Fiore said, entering the room. He was an elderly man with grey hair and matching ash-colored eyes.

"Thank you, Noe," Caio acknowledged as his butler put a tray containing a bottle of white wine and a glass on the table.

Noe expertly poured the wine on the glass, and as Caio took a few sips of the drink, he thought of something. "Prepare a writing slate for me."

"A writing slate, Your Grace?" Noe was curious. "What would you need a writing slate for, my lord?"

Caio remembered the way 20 had hurriedly scribbled on her makeshift slate trying to catch up with her thoughts as he conversed with her, and he smiled. "I want to talk more with someone."