Honor & Privilege (Cargon Trilogy Book 1)
©Kimberly Gould
Publisher: eBTT YA Generations Books; 2 edition (May 2, 2017)
Publication Date: May 2, 2017
Publisher: eBTT YA Generations Books; 2 edition (May 2, 2017)
Publication Date: May 2, 2017
Chapter One
Standing at the back of the room, Eve was thrilled to be in the class even though her status prevented her from actively participating. The young adults in the seats were elite. Born to the wiliest, most intelligent people in Fontive. Eve, by contrast, was born to a cook and stableman. She served in the palace as her parents did, serving wine when the elite joined for dinner every evening. Attending this class was a gift beyond measure.
Although her intelligence matched or rivaled that of those seated, she wouldn’t be able to speak with them or sit among them. Her place was here, at the back, inconspicuous. She had done her duty if no one ever realized she was there.
She wasn’t that lucky.
“Server girl.”
Eve clenched her jaw and tried her best to prepare for what torment the Prince might have for her today.
Prince Louis put his nose to her hair. Inhaling deeply, he sighed. "Would you taste as wonderful as you smell, I wonder?" His hand traced down her side, just off her skin. It brushed the fabric of her skirt, and she stepped to the side.
He sidestepped with her, grinning now. "Skittish. I like that. Where will you jump to next?" He moved to place his hand on her again, and she leaned away to her left, twisting from him. Her skirts brushed his legs. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to touch him, and it was a loss of face for him to touch her. That didn’t stop him.
He continued to pursue her as she backed herself into the corner. He put his hands to either side of her head, trapping her effectively. Finally, unable to find another response, she turned her eyes level to his. In them, she held all of her hatred, her anger, his loss of honor. Would he continue to ignore the impropriety he was inflicting?
“I do wish our stations were not so distant." He pulled his arms away and turned from her.
Eve fled to the library, her sanctuary. The rules of their society were clear. If she’d been interested and met him under cover of night, a relationship between one of the elite and a servant might be possible, but she’d never heard of one. She had never returned Louis’ affections and he dared to approach her while she was doing as instructed.
Storming up and down the aisles of books, she knew she had to get a hold on her temper. Her attitude was unbecoming, and although the librarians, as fellow servants, might not be offended, the elite accessing the library certainly would.
She stopped among those elite, in front of the large windows that looked out onto the manicured gardens. Another servant pulled weeds, adding them to her basket. Hundreds of servants, easily ten times the number of elite, could be found throughout the palace. The majority didn’t tread in these halls, manning laundries, kitchens, and grounds. Today, Eve envied them.
Inhaling, Eve imagined she was in the garden, breathing the fresh air. From there, her imagination took her away from Fontive’s palace. If she reached the wild lands, Louis would never bother her again. However, life there was difficult, coaxing the land to provide enough food for one’s own family as well as the capitals. In return, Fontive provided them with safety and refined products: tools, cloth, ceramics.
Perhaps there was another option. Turning, she made her way down the aisle full of histories. As a servant, she was taught nothing of the world before her birth or outside the palace. When she’d been sent to attend classes with the children of the elite, she’d learned about all the rulers before Bianca, their current High One. She passed those, however, looking for something older. One of the children had told a story that she hadn’t thought about since she tested its veracity.
Flipping through pages, she read about the ruins and relics recovered along with metal, glass and the strange material that gave off noxious fumes when anyone tried to melt it. They’d found no way to adapt that for their use. There were diagrams of skeletal buildings towering over trees.
She flipped on, stopping at a page on power relics. These were mythical stories about the power of light. Before the fall, more than three hundred years ago, nearly anything could be done with the power and everything required it. No one had managed to recreate the power, and almost all the knowledge of that time had been lost.
Looking at the strange diagrams and trying to intuit their purpose distracted her completely from her fury. When the gong rang, announcing dinner in an hour, Eve carried the book to the sorting table, knowing her duty and happy to do it.
Although the elite would gather in an hour, she had half that to change her uniform and have her hair arranged. The same servants that tended Eve and her fellow servants’ hair, would go into the elite wings to do the same for them.
In the dining room, she was given matching pitchers of red and white wine. While she kept cups full, others would dart in and out to serve full plates and clear away empty ones.
As she did every time she entered the dining hall, she stopped to regard the Cargon board. It’s three-tiered surfaces and thirteen pieces made up the game elite used to rank themselves, to prove their fitness for their roles. Her keen interest in the game, and proven understanding of its rules, had directly led to her assignment in the classes of the elite.
On Eve’s first night in the dining hall, the High One had ordered her to never touch the pieces. She would never forget that night. At the time, she couldn’t have imagined being noticed by someone so important, but the High One had spied her, gauged her interest, and tested her knowledge.
Every few weeks, one of the elite would challenge another at the end of dinner. It seemed tonight would not be one of those. Cargon came with powerful consequences. The winner, deemed highly intelligent, took the place of the loser. If the loser came from lower status, he was further shamed and deemed less competent. Likewise, a winner of higher status was further honored and more likely to test those above him. What surprised and frightened Eve was the tendency of spouses to shift with the results as though their status, unchanged, kept them with the elite of that position. The practice, although well documented, made no sense to Eve. For all her intelligence, she would never claim to ‘think’ like the elite.
After dinner, she lingered, watching the High One tend the board. It was strange to Eve that the highest among them would assume such a menial task, but she did the same every night. Eve was gobsmacked when, for the second time, the High One addressed her.
"You return." Despite the fact that she spoke to Eve, the servant did not answer. She hadn’t asked a question, after all. "Your studies progress well; I have been apprised." Eve felt her face flush. Bestowing the honor of instruction on her overwhelmed and now she continued to have an interest. "You have a question? Ask." the High One commanded.
Eve longed to ask, "How am I supposed to straddle between two worlds?" Instead she asked her original question, the one that had plagued her since the first night she watched the High One labor at the boards. "Is there no other who could perform this duty? One who understood the importance and took the proper care?"
"There is. I could ask you to do it." The High One chuckled wryly. "It has been done, but the High One who forgets to respect Cargon is destined to soon fall." Eve knew this to be the case, reading several histories about the most drastic changes resulting from the outcome of a single match. "This is the most ... manual of my responsibilities. I find I enjoy it." Her lips curled in a small smile. Eve found herself smiling as well and quickly dropped her eyes again. "Well, child, I have finished for another night. Continue to make the most of what you have been given."
Was that an answer to the question that plagued her today and every day Prince Louis pressed himself on her? Was Eve to take a great leap that would vault her from one world to the other? As one of the elite, the differences in their positions would narrow, allowing her to tell him exactly how little she sought his attention.
Eve dropped her knees and held herself low when the High One had left the hall. Alone, she turned to the boards, her jaw set.
Make the most of what she had been given. She wanted to take her first step on a road to a new life, a new place. But she had been ordered to never touch the pieces. Her mind warred with her instincts. As proven in the past, her mind was stronger.
Eve took a marble piece in her hand and held it tightly. She could feel every edge, every plane. The corners seemed to bite into her skin. Small, it had little weight and yet felt exceedingly heavy, as though she held the world in her hand instead of a tiny piece. Eve placed it on the board in a new position. The movement was monumental. It wasn't simply the start of a game; it was the start of everything. She had put her world into motion. Turning her back on the three-tiered board, she returned to her dorm. From the corner, she noticed someone else in the shadows, not near the kitchen, the direction she headed, but the grand entrance, where the High One had left. Despite being one of the elite, he didn’t address Eve, and she continued on her way.
***
Adam waited for his mother just outside the hall. She tended the boards, her nightly chore. One day it would be his charge. He'd played only two games of Cargon. Relatively new to his position as Second and heir, those two decisive victories had prevented more challenges.
The doors opened as his mother stepped out. Past her, he saw a servant kneeling by the Cargon board.
“Adam, you didn't have to wait for me.”
“I – Would you excuse me a moment?” he asked, slipping around her and through the still open door to the hall. The servant had just picked up one of the pieces and held it in her hand. His breath caught. Would she put it back? If she did, he would never mention this – except to her. She must know how dangerous it was for her play with those pieces; she would become the lowest of servants, or worse, exiled if she played and lost. Surely, someone had told her. She didn't put it back in the starting position, but made a legal move, demonstrating her knowledge of the game. Glancing his way, she paused before turning and walking away.
Adam stepped back from the doors. “I'm sorry, Mother. There was a servant there. I was just wondering what she was doing in the hall so late.”
“Ah, yes. She is bright, that one. I have my eye on her.” She slipped her arm through Adam's and led him to their shared suite.
Adam waited for his mother to close the door to her bedroom before leaving again for the hall. Once there, he picked up another piece. He didn't know who the girl was; he didn't know how she knew how to play, but he did not want her challenged by another. He wanted to be the one to win her, the one to challenge her. He admired her bravery but would admire her intelligence even more if she proved a worthy opponent. The game had begun.
Although her intelligence matched or rivaled that of those seated, she wouldn’t be able to speak with them or sit among them. Her place was here, at the back, inconspicuous. She had done her duty if no one ever realized she was there.
She wasn’t that lucky.
“Server girl.”
Eve clenched her jaw and tried her best to prepare for what torment the Prince might have for her today.
Prince Louis put his nose to her hair. Inhaling deeply, he sighed. "Would you taste as wonderful as you smell, I wonder?" His hand traced down her side, just off her skin. It brushed the fabric of her skirt, and she stepped to the side.
He sidestepped with her, grinning now. "Skittish. I like that. Where will you jump to next?" He moved to place his hand on her again, and she leaned away to her left, twisting from him. Her skirts brushed his legs. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to touch him, and it was a loss of face for him to touch her. That didn’t stop him.
He continued to pursue her as she backed herself into the corner. He put his hands to either side of her head, trapping her effectively. Finally, unable to find another response, she turned her eyes level to his. In them, she held all of her hatred, her anger, his loss of honor. Would he continue to ignore the impropriety he was inflicting?
“I do wish our stations were not so distant." He pulled his arms away and turned from her.
Eve fled to the library, her sanctuary. The rules of their society were clear. If she’d been interested and met him under cover of night, a relationship between one of the elite and a servant might be possible, but she’d never heard of one. She had never returned Louis’ affections and he dared to approach her while she was doing as instructed.
Storming up and down the aisles of books, she knew she had to get a hold on her temper. Her attitude was unbecoming, and although the librarians, as fellow servants, might not be offended, the elite accessing the library certainly would.
She stopped among those elite, in front of the large windows that looked out onto the manicured gardens. Another servant pulled weeds, adding them to her basket. Hundreds of servants, easily ten times the number of elite, could be found throughout the palace. The majority didn’t tread in these halls, manning laundries, kitchens, and grounds. Today, Eve envied them.
Inhaling, Eve imagined she was in the garden, breathing the fresh air. From there, her imagination took her away from Fontive’s palace. If she reached the wild lands, Louis would never bother her again. However, life there was difficult, coaxing the land to provide enough food for one’s own family as well as the capitals. In return, Fontive provided them with safety and refined products: tools, cloth, ceramics.
Perhaps there was another option. Turning, she made her way down the aisle full of histories. As a servant, she was taught nothing of the world before her birth or outside the palace. When she’d been sent to attend classes with the children of the elite, she’d learned about all the rulers before Bianca, their current High One. She passed those, however, looking for something older. One of the children had told a story that she hadn’t thought about since she tested its veracity.
Flipping through pages, she read about the ruins and relics recovered along with metal, glass and the strange material that gave off noxious fumes when anyone tried to melt it. They’d found no way to adapt that for their use. There were diagrams of skeletal buildings towering over trees.
She flipped on, stopping at a page on power relics. These were mythical stories about the power of light. Before the fall, more than three hundred years ago, nearly anything could be done with the power and everything required it. No one had managed to recreate the power, and almost all the knowledge of that time had been lost.
Looking at the strange diagrams and trying to intuit their purpose distracted her completely from her fury. When the gong rang, announcing dinner in an hour, Eve carried the book to the sorting table, knowing her duty and happy to do it.
Although the elite would gather in an hour, she had half that to change her uniform and have her hair arranged. The same servants that tended Eve and her fellow servants’ hair, would go into the elite wings to do the same for them.
In the dining room, she was given matching pitchers of red and white wine. While she kept cups full, others would dart in and out to serve full plates and clear away empty ones.
As she did every time she entered the dining hall, she stopped to regard the Cargon board. It’s three-tiered surfaces and thirteen pieces made up the game elite used to rank themselves, to prove their fitness for their roles. Her keen interest in the game, and proven understanding of its rules, had directly led to her assignment in the classes of the elite.
On Eve’s first night in the dining hall, the High One had ordered her to never touch the pieces. She would never forget that night. At the time, she couldn’t have imagined being noticed by someone so important, but the High One had spied her, gauged her interest, and tested her knowledge.
Every few weeks, one of the elite would challenge another at the end of dinner. It seemed tonight would not be one of those. Cargon came with powerful consequences. The winner, deemed highly intelligent, took the place of the loser. If the loser came from lower status, he was further shamed and deemed less competent. Likewise, a winner of higher status was further honored and more likely to test those above him. What surprised and frightened Eve was the tendency of spouses to shift with the results as though their status, unchanged, kept them with the elite of that position. The practice, although well documented, made no sense to Eve. For all her intelligence, she would never claim to ‘think’ like the elite.
After dinner, she lingered, watching the High One tend the board. It was strange to Eve that the highest among them would assume such a menial task, but she did the same every night. Eve was gobsmacked when, for the second time, the High One addressed her.
"You return." Despite the fact that she spoke to Eve, the servant did not answer. She hadn’t asked a question, after all. "Your studies progress well; I have been apprised." Eve felt her face flush. Bestowing the honor of instruction on her overwhelmed and now she continued to have an interest. "You have a question? Ask." the High One commanded.
Eve longed to ask, "How am I supposed to straddle between two worlds?" Instead she asked her original question, the one that had plagued her since the first night she watched the High One labor at the boards. "Is there no other who could perform this duty? One who understood the importance and took the proper care?"
"There is. I could ask you to do it." The High One chuckled wryly. "It has been done, but the High One who forgets to respect Cargon is destined to soon fall." Eve knew this to be the case, reading several histories about the most drastic changes resulting from the outcome of a single match. "This is the most ... manual of my responsibilities. I find I enjoy it." Her lips curled in a small smile. Eve found herself smiling as well and quickly dropped her eyes again. "Well, child, I have finished for another night. Continue to make the most of what you have been given."
Was that an answer to the question that plagued her today and every day Prince Louis pressed himself on her? Was Eve to take a great leap that would vault her from one world to the other? As one of the elite, the differences in their positions would narrow, allowing her to tell him exactly how little she sought his attention.
Eve dropped her knees and held herself low when the High One had left the hall. Alone, she turned to the boards, her jaw set.
Make the most of what she had been given. She wanted to take her first step on a road to a new life, a new place. But she had been ordered to never touch the pieces. Her mind warred with her instincts. As proven in the past, her mind was stronger.
Eve took a marble piece in her hand and held it tightly. She could feel every edge, every plane. The corners seemed to bite into her skin. Small, it had little weight and yet felt exceedingly heavy, as though she held the world in her hand instead of a tiny piece. Eve placed it on the board in a new position. The movement was monumental. It wasn't simply the start of a game; it was the start of everything. She had put her world into motion. Turning her back on the three-tiered board, she returned to her dorm. From the corner, she noticed someone else in the shadows, not near the kitchen, the direction she headed, but the grand entrance, where the High One had left. Despite being one of the elite, he didn’t address Eve, and she continued on her way.
***
Adam waited for his mother just outside the hall. She tended the boards, her nightly chore. One day it would be his charge. He'd played only two games of Cargon. Relatively new to his position as Second and heir, those two decisive victories had prevented more challenges.
The doors opened as his mother stepped out. Past her, he saw a servant kneeling by the Cargon board.
“Adam, you didn't have to wait for me.”
“I – Would you excuse me a moment?” he asked, slipping around her and through the still open door to the hall. The servant had just picked up one of the pieces and held it in her hand. His breath caught. Would she put it back? If she did, he would never mention this – except to her. She must know how dangerous it was for her play with those pieces; she would become the lowest of servants, or worse, exiled if she played and lost. Surely, someone had told her. She didn't put it back in the starting position, but made a legal move, demonstrating her knowledge of the game. Glancing his way, she paused before turning and walking away.
Adam stepped back from the doors. “I'm sorry, Mother. There was a servant there. I was just wondering what she was doing in the hall so late.”
“Ah, yes. She is bright, that one. I have my eye on her.” She slipped her arm through Adam's and led him to their shared suite.
Adam waited for his mother to close the door to her bedroom before leaving again for the hall. Once there, he picked up another piece. He didn't know who the girl was; he didn't know how she knew how to play, but he did not want her challenged by another. He wanted to be the one to win her, the one to challenge her. He admired her bravery but would admire her intelligence even more if she proved a worthy opponent. The game had begun.