by JA Andrews
Mags nodded. “I’ve met your brother. He was really…tall.”
Tomkin sighed. “That’s Elton.” Of course she had met Elton. Tallest man in any room, shoulders like an ox, looked like a hero who’d just stepped from the pages of a storybook. Tomkin knew very well how he looked to someone who had met Elton. “Everyone loves Elton.”
Mags was quiet for a moment. “He seemed like a fine person. A little too knight-in-shining-armor for me, though.”
Tomkin glanced at her, but she was studying the fire. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been a fan of the giant warrior type.”
He almost asked what type she was a fan of, but the bearded voice slapped his teeth shut. It pointed him back to the topic of rumors.
“There aren’t too many people my age at the holding,” Tomkin began. “Anyone over ten works in the pea grain fields. There are at least a dozen maids, but several years ago the head housemistress gave them all uniforms with bulky black dresses and black scarfy things that cover their hair. Honestly, I can’t tell them apart anymore. It wouldn’t matter if I could, though, because they’re instructed not to talk to me. And if I try, they just giggle and run away.”
“That sounds lonely,” Mags said quietly.
Tomkin stared hard at the fire. It was lonely, but that wasn’t what he had intended to say. Maybe none of this was what he had intended to say.
Past the fire, the rain fell in a dark, shushing wall.
“Do you like your brother?” Mags asked. She sounded genuinely curious.
“I love my brother. We don’t quarrel much. But Elton’s five years older than me. He was trained to fight when we were young. He was a natural at it. He’s built like my father.
“I’m more like my mother. And though they trained me a bit when I was younger, I wasn’t strong enough to do much. By the time I was, the skirmishes with Coastal Baylon had begun and my father, brother, and every worthwhile fighting man were stationed along the border. There was no one left to teach me anything.
“My mother needed help running the holding.” Tomkin shrugged. “She says I’ve got a knack for it. These days I do most of the hearing hours, when folks come to us with problems.” He glanced at Mags. “Do you do that in Greentree?”
She nodded.
Tomkin waited a moment, but she said nothing more. Which was kind of her, really. It was only Tomkin who enjoyed solving the constant stream of petty problems the people of Marshwell brought during the hearing hours. His father and brother found any excuse to do something else. Mags probably did, too.
“Anyway, we were supposed to all go on a hunt, but we got word that a lord from Coastal Baylon had sent troops into Marshwell.
“All the men raced off. I stayed back. My mother was ill and I couldn’t leave her. Instead I called the Baylonian ambassador and demanded to know why they were inside our borders.” Tomkin let the story hang for a moment. He had been furious that morning. Furious that the day with his brother was ruined. Furious that Baylon couldn’t just leave well enough alone.
Whether it was his anger, or the fact that his mother wasn’t there to take control of the negotiations, Tomkin had found himself in an unusual position of power. He’d worked with the ambassador for hours, probing and prodding, searching for whatever leverage was needed to get Baylon to leave Marshwell.
“It took all day before I figured out what they really wanted.” At Mags’ questioning look Tomkin rolled his eyes. “It all boiled down to sheep, if you’ll believe that, a specific kind of wool the Baylonian lord’s wife wanted.” He stared into the fire. “But once you understand your enemy, then you can leverage what they want. From that point it was easy to come up with a treaty.”
He glanced at Mags. “And I did. It was fair, cost Marshwell almost nothing, and secured that piece of border for the next decade.”
Her eyebrows rose a little.
“None of that mattered, though, because that night the men returned. We heard them enter the courtyard and the ambassador and I went out to meet them.” Tomkin sank back against the wall.
“Elton had slain the son of the Baylonian lord. That son turned out to be the ambassador’s best friend. When he heard of the death he…went mad. He pulled out a knife and attacked me.”
The ambassador had snarled like a rabid animal, something raw and frenzied in his eyes.
“I had spent the day working with him. He was intelligent and courteous, but when he heard of his friend’s death…something snapped.”
Mags nodded next to him and he glanced at her. Something in her face made him think she understood.
He looked back at the fire. “I was only holding a quill. I didn’t even have a weapon. I was so surprised…I tried to get away from him but…I tripped and fell.” His stomach twisted at the memory. “I thought I was dead.” He took a deep breath. “But Elton jumped in and blocked him.”
Tomkin sighed. “The treaty was ignored and that portion of our border has been the most violent ever since. But on top of that, everyone says the men went off to fight, while I hid at home. And when the little ambassador attacked, I tried to fight him with a quill.”
He stopped and stared into the fire. Why had he said all that? He had never talked to anyone about that. The rumor had lingered. He knew it was a running joke among the workers at the holding. And probably throughout the rest of Marshwell as well.
Next to him, Mags was quiet. He shouldn’t have told that story. She was already less than impressed with him. What if they did have to get married? He should have at least tried to keep her from thinking he was…whatever everyone else thought he was.
The silence between them stretched out. Tomkin felt himself shrinking against the stone wall. He wanted to break the silence, to pull the conversation away from how pathetic he was. But he could think of nothing to say.
It was Mags who finally spoke, her voice somehow lower than the rain and the crackle of the fire.
“I’m here because my mother died, and I can’t bear to be a disappointment to my father any longer.”
13
Tomkin sat very still. Something in his chest clenched at the sadness in her voice. It was a different sort of voice than he’d heard her use before. A more real voice. It was achingly lonely and broken and true. He started to look towards her, but didn’t know what he’d see, and he didn’t want her to misread anything in his expression, so he turned his eyes back to the fire.
“My mother died a little over a year ago. She caught the red cough from some village she had gone to, doing something kind and generous.” The words kind and generous didn’t sound kind or generous. “She died quickly, which was…I can’t say good…but some people linger.”
Tomkin opened his mouth to say something, anything, but what could someone say to that? He shut it again slowly.
Beside him he felt Mags take a deep breath. Her hands, wrapped around her knees, tightened slightly. “I tried, after she died, to take over her roles in Greentree.
“I always knew I wasn’t like her. She was so thoughtful and unselfish and…wise. Everyone at the homestead loved her, from the lowest scullery girl to my father’s chief advisor, because somehow she managed to make them each feel like they were just as important, just as valuable as she was.”
Silence stretched out while the fire crackled and the rain thrummed down, steadier now, the urgency gone. The water giant must have moved on, wreaking destruction further west and leaving only his robe of rain trailing behind him.
“I don’t know how she did it.” Mags’ voice was quiet enough to slip through the other noises. “I don’t know how she was so patient all the time. I can’t keep my mouth shut, I can’t stop being irritated by petty things. I want to, but I can’t. And it’s so much worse since she died. I think she anchored me, somehow, in a better place than I can manage by myself. Or maybe she was such a buffer against the world, I could cling to her and her patience rubbed off on me.”
Mags’ thumb began to rub a
cross her other fingers, worrying at them.
“I do go to court, sometimes. But I have only been once without my mother.”
Tomkin opened his mouth to stop her, to tell her she didn’t have to explain anything to him, but she rushed on.
“We were invited to the Spring Ball. My father had not been to court since my mother died, and he needed to go to the capital for the king’s council anyway. There was tension between him and a couple other dukes who are closer to the king than he is. I knew he was nervous about it. He was afraid they might turn the king against Greentree if he wasn’t there to defend himself.
“I didn’t want to go, and he knew it. I believe my exact words to him were I didn’t want to go to a stupid ball and spend the evening with stupid people. To convince me to come, he gave me one of my mother’s gowns. It had been her favorite and my father’d had it altered to fit me. It was red. Not a gaudy red, a dark red, deep and steady. And I loved it.”
She gave a little snort. “The princess wears light colors to the Spring Ball, so the other girls do as well. This one was going to stand out, and not in the way a girl wants to stand out at a ball. But my father’s face, when he offered it to me….” Mags turned towards him. There was something in her face, something begging him to hear what she was saying.
She turned back to the fire. “My father never talks about my mother. I think it almost killed him to lose her. It may be killing him still.
“I hadn’t seen it before she died, what she was to him. I knew they were happy, but happiness between two people is easy to dismiss as just normal, instead of being the most precious thing in the world. I hadn’t realized that while I thought I needed her to stabilize me, without her, he is adrift. My father is a great man. But there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before. He’s confused. Or lost.
“I took the dress and told him I would go.”
Mags unclenched her hands and threw Tomkin a look that was somehow accusing. He had lost track of which things were his fault here, though, so the accusation just slid off of him.
“Your beautiful Princess Ellona is a hag. Want to know what a day spent with her is like? First, anyone who wants to be seen with her during the day must apply for it. No more than eight girls are chosen, the number depending on Ellona’s plans for the day, and her mood. The chosen few must be up before dawn to have their clothing and hair approved.” She ignored his raised eyebrow. “Then, they must all line up. Ellona comes in and ranks everyone based on clothing, general colors of hair and dress, and prettiness. You are then assigned a position. Those with positions one through three are allowed to be right at Ellona’s side during the day. Everyone else must remain a certain distance away from her, depending on your rank.”
“You can’t be serious,” Tomkin said.
“I usually rank around a six.” She shot the number at him.
“A six? You’re prettier than that!” He recognized he was losing control of his words again, but they just kept coming. Besides, it was true. Ellona’s logic made no sense and illogical things were annoying. “There can’t be five girls prettier than you at court. I’ve seen noblemen’s daughters. They’re just as normal as any other girl. You look pretty here, all soggy and dirty. You must have looked even prettier at court.”
Mags’ expression froze for a moment, then softened. “Yes…well…thank you. But it’s not good to be too pretty around Ellona. She picks girls who are just on the pretty edge of plain. She wouldn’t consent to be seen with an ugly girl, unless she were especially rich, but she won’t be seen with anyone she deems prettier than herself, either. You see, the Chosen Ones are used as ornament to her highness for the day.
“Ellona has long, flowing golden hair, of course. So to be close to her, you must have either dimmer golden hair, or dull brown hair. If Ellona is wearing green, then no one next to her can be in a clashing shade of green.” Mags rolled her eyes. “And she’s very sensitive about her nose, which is just fine, but she’s convinced it’s too big. So if you have a little nose”—Mags pointed to her own—“you’re bound to get a low ranking.
“There’s a political aspect to it, too. Since her retinue on any given day is made up of noblemen’s daughters, they are almost always there for some reason that can be turned political. Ellona knows all of this and has an agenda. She’s rude and asks insulting, personal questions in front of all the other girls in an effort to learn information that might help her father. And she’s the princess, so you have to answer her. But if you do, she uses that information to begin rumors. Not just about you, it can be about your family, or your holding.” Mags shook her head. “It’s this terrible game of who can please Ellona more without actually giving away information she’ll use against you. And she doesn’t like girls who are too nice, so everyone stabs each other in the back just to try to please her.” Mags shuddered. “It’s terrible.
“The king is alright with this?” Tomkin demanded. “I thought he was a good man.”
Mags shook her head. “I’m not sure the king understands what goes on. He adores her, you know. You can see it every time they’re together. And when he is there, she is a different person. In fact, she is a different person everywhere but in these small groups of girls. He thinks the girls love Ellona so much, they tell her their secrets.”
“Does your father know it’s like that?”
Mags shook her head. “I’ve never told him. It’s hard to believe about her when you’re not right there. When I was selected last spring,” her mouth twisted in a bitter smile, “I actually thought it was because Ellona felt sympathetic about my mother.”
Silence fell between them again. Tomkin wanted to say something, but nothing in his mind sounded right. Mags’ eyes were bright again, but her expression was so fierce the tears were probably afraid to fall.
“It was the second worst day of my life.” Mags’ voice was so low Tomkin leaned toward her. “Ellona began by telling me, and all the girls there, how much she had admired my mother. Because she was so simple and trusting and naive. And you just don’t find that these days.
“She said all this sympathetically, of course. Everyone who walked by, which many people did, seeing as we sat in the center of the royal gardens, gazed at Ellona adoringly for how sweet she sounded. Because of course none of them actually listened to her. She pointed out how lucky my father was to have married above himself like he had, and how it was so sweet that he had fallen to pieces now that she was gone. How if my mother had still been alive, she would have stopped him from coming to court like a simpering fool.”
Mags shot a sideways glance at Tomkin. “Then she began to instruct me on the proper way to treat anyone under myself, because she’d heard I had a temper and she didn’t want me alienating the workers at our home, now that I was in charge, however ineptly.”
Tomkin locked his eyes on her shoes. That was all he’d ever heard about Lissa of Greentree, that she was rude to the help.
“It’s not that I’m rude to people under me.” There was something almost desperate in her voice and Tomkin had to look at her face. It was more bare than before. As though whether he believed her was the most important thing in the world. “There is no one above me at home, aside from my father. So it’s not that I’m rude to people I see as beneath me.” She looked miserably back at the fire. The next words came out barely above a whisper. “I’m just rude to everyone.”
Tomkin bit his lip, hard. This was her revelation? He tried to keep the smile off his face, but it was no use. “Really?” Tomkin said. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Her eyes flashed at him, but seeing his expression, she stopped. “I don’t mean to be.” Her brows knit together. “It’s just hard for me not to say what I’m thinking.”
“I did notice that.”
She glared at him, but there was less fury in it now.
He grinned at her. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing…entirely. Being honest is good.”
“Then why does everyone hate me for
it?”
This time Tomkin did laugh. “Because you make them feel terrible! Ellona was being honest, too. Or she would have said she was.”
“Anyway,” Mags said, scowling at him, “we hadn’t brought any of our own ladies to court, it was just my father, me, and a couple of my father’s men. So Ellona had provided a girl to help me with my clothes for the ball. The maid was horrible. Just as horrible as Ellona. And I was so tired from the day.
“I did try,” she looked at Tomkin earnestly again. “I tried to ignore all her little ‘compliments.’ Ellona had trained her well, she knew all about my mother, my family, how my father was doing, the conflict going on with the other dukes. It was like some sort of nightmare. I couldn’t get rid of her because I couldn’t get dressed by myself.
“When I pulled out my mother’s dress, she laughed. She asked if I intended to wear a blood-red dress to the Spring Ball. When I told her I was, she refused to help me put it on. She said Ellona wouldn’t allow it, not on a girl who had been seen to be favored by her that day.
“I told her I didn’t care what the she-devil Ellona wanted, and I was going to wear my mother’s dress.”
Mags stopped for a moment. She stared into the fire, her hands gripped together with white knuckles. When she continued, it was almost a whisper. “She picked up the dress and laughed. Said it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, too ugly for even an old woman like my mother to have liked. She said maybe my mother had died just so she’d never have to wear it again.”
“What?”
“So I slapped her.” Mags gave a broken, jagged laugh, before her face sobered. “She was still holding my dress and she was furious. She held it up in front of me and said, ‘It looks like the seamstress missed something here in the bodice.’ And she ripped the front of it apart.”
Tomkin stared at her. “No.”
Mags nodded. “A big, ragged tear right down the front. Then she left.
“Later there was a knock at my door. Ellona’s voice came through asking if there was anything wrong. She had that sickeningly sweet tone again, just like she’d had all day while she insulted and manipulated everyone. She said she had a dress I could wear, since she’d heard mine had been damaged while traveling here.”
