“I saw your coach approaching—do not tell me I have sent you off with the wrong cape again?” he jeered.
“No, your Lordship, I just—” she remembered what she had planned to say, and gone over so many times in her head. “I just cannot stop thinking about you.”
A self-satisfied grin spread across Lord Rames's face. “I am somewhat, though not entirely, surprised. But you did seem so resistant last time we met.”
“I was just...in shock,” Veria stammered, not by accident, but to make herself appear more demure. “I mean, I was fairly and understandably embarrassed that I had been caught in my deception.”
“Understandably, yes,” Lord Rames agreed, nodding.
“I will be honest in saying that I did not mean it to be cunning in any way. My family's history has been hard on me, and sometimes I just want to really be someone else. Just pretend for awhile, to get away from it all. The Lady Veria Pyer-Laurelgate of Longberme drivel. You know.”
Lord Rames seemed to be making an effort to soften the harder lines of his sharp-featured face. He held a hand over his brow to keep the rain from dripping into his eyes, and Veria mimicked him.
“Yes, I do know,” he muttered softly.
“I just keep revisiting the night of your Feast in my mind, and I did really enjoy your company,” she said. “Just because my father ruined my name does not mean we should not get to enjoy each other's company in the cloak room from time to time.”
She looked down, to be coy, but then raised her eyes and gazed at him intently through her dark lashes, which she fluttered a bit more than was normal. Lord Rames appeared speechless as he surveyed her completely, down then up, then down and up again.
Finally he spoke: “Well, I am afraid the cloak room is off limits tonight, as is the entirety of North Chadron Castle. My fiance is planning the wedding with my mother, and they have a gaggle of silly women, cousins and sisters and what not, running amok around my home.”
Veria giggled. “Alright—”
But he cut her off. “I just realized that I never showed you the gardens, on the night of the Feast, though,” he said, and he grabbed her hand. “I did like this dress on you,” he added as they paced quickly through the torrential rain around the front of the castle.
Veria was soaked completely through all her clothing, and she hoped that somewhere in the garden was some shelter from the wet and cold. Lord Rames took her down a narrow path through vivid green bushes, and she could feel the back of her dress sopping up the mud from the ground. There was a small area with a circle of stone-carved benches, and a tent overhead, but the tent was ripped and dropping in several spots, and so the normally covered area was receiving just as much moisture as anywhere else.
Lord Rames urged her down onto the nearest bench and forced himself on her. She had tried to prepare herself for this moment as much as possible, but she still felt awful, and repulsed. His rough kisses and scratchy beard were completely opposite from Andon's gentle touch and skin. In fact everything about Rames was rough, right down to how he handled her chest in his hands, and how he ripped her black cap off and threw it in the mud so he could weave his long fingers into her braids. She spent most of the time while he was having his way and crushing her into the stone with his weight pretending she was in the small quarters off the workroom, under the scratchy blanket, with warm sun and gentle touches caressing her skin.
Lord Rames eventually pulled Veria's dress back down for her, and helped her sit up, then stood up to fix his own clothing.
“I entertained the thought of proposing to you anyway,” he said, seemingly out of nowhere.
“I actually sort of like the idea that you are dark and scandalous, wizened and conflicted. You are like me,” he continued as he buttoned his shirt. “None of the other girls are ever like that. They are happy, and eager, and simple. They are good for dancing and producing heirs—not to say you are not good for those things.”
“I am the most terrible dancer in the world,” Veria admitted. Rames laughed.
“But you see, my mother,” he said, helping Veria stand from the bench. “She is terribly meddlesome. Most of the time I feel she would like to just live my whole life for me.”
Veria took a deep, pained breath, but instead of feeling refreshed, she felt as though she had just inhaled all of Rames's sadness and piled it onto her own. If only he knew he was her meddlesome mother's plan. She was able to put aside her feelings about Rames himself, and have a moment of empathy for his situation.
“Rames,” she said softly.
“Yes, Lady Jane,” he said with a smirk.
“Can I give you some advice?” she asked, and her voice was low and seductive. He leaned in. “People would have much more fun in their lives if they would quit listening to their mothers.”
And with that, she turned and walked away, climbing into the coach, and wishing someone had given her that advice a long time ago.
The coach moved swiftly, to make it through the forest by nightfall. The rain came harder and colder, and the wind whipped through the coach at chilling speeds. Veria shivered so hard it made her body sore, and her wet clothes felt like icicles clinging to every inch of her skin. She felt it was appropriate that the outside of her should feel the same as the inside.
She had instructed the coachman to bring her to the back again, definitely not wanting anything to do with her mother this night. She shuffled quietly into the kitchen, her mind a freezing fog of exhaustion and confusion, and her body an achy, stiff piece of ice. She walked slowly, in her silent haze, to the fireplace, but it was not enough warmth to stop the shivering.
Andon emerged from his quarters. “Oh, my...” he uttered with concern. “My Lady?”
Veria just stared at the fire, wanting to crawl inside of it so she could feel something.
“Lady Veria,” Andon tried again. “You—you are soaked,” he said as he grabbed her elbow. “You are freezing. You will die if we don't get you out of these clothes.”
She did not respond. So Andon began gently, but quickly, removing her drenched dress in silence. He locked the two doors into the kitchen, and the door to the outside, before returning to remove her soaked slip and undergarments. Veria stood naked in front of the fire, listening to it crackle and snap, and watching the sparks. She wanted to be a fire, but instead she felt like a frozen pond. Andon blotted the cold moisture from her skin with a kitchen cloth. When he ran the cloth along her spine she tensed and moaned in pain.
He studied her with care. “What happened?”
Veria remembered her back being crushed against the cold, wet stone bench. “I do not want to talk about it,” she answered, shortly.
Andon finished drying her pale, cold skin, then slipped his thin black work coat over her shoulders, carefully avoiding her back. He handed her a pair of the cook's striped stockings that had been drying over the fireplace, and she slipped them on, admiring how ridiculous she looked in just striped stockings and a man's work coat.
“Are you hungry?” Andon asked as he went about placing her wet clothes on a line near the fire place. Veria nodded and pushed herself up onto one of the preparation tables next to the stove. “I made something for you,” he said, and he pulled a basket down from a shelf above her and took a dark brown tea cake out of a blue cloth. She took it and examined it.
“Coacoa biscuit,” he said. “My mother's recipe.” And he smiled, and light filled his eyes when he said the word 'mother'. Veria did not want to hear the word 'mother' ever again, and was resolved not to speak to hers for at least a month, unless she had to. But she was intrigued with how someone with a good mother, a caring mother, would describe that relationship.
“Tell me about your mother,” she said to Andon, and he grinned and laughed as he threw a few more logs on the fire. It roared and flashed as it hungrily devoured the wood.
“My mother was incredible,” he said simply. “She was born and raised in Esperan, in a very large family of fisher-people. But
she hated fish! Thus was the beginning of her doing everything my grandmother told her not to.” He laughed to himself again. “You must try the biscuit. My mother was the most incredible cook I have ever known.”
Veria took a small bite, and although it was dry and crunchy at first, it melted across her taste-buds into molten coacoa sweetness. She sighed and closed her eyes. “You said was,” she finally said, after clearing her mouth of the bite of biscuit.
“Yes, I said was,” Andon nodded.
“She died,” Veria mumbled.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“You sound—you do not sound sad,” Veria observed.
“I am sad for myself, because I miss her, but I am not sad for her,” he explained. “In Esperan, we believe that if you live a full life and do right by other people, your death will be peaceful and painless. My mother was like that.”
Veria took another bite of biscuit, while Andon busied himself mopping up her puddle with some rags. “What about your father?” she asked, with a mouth full of biscuit.
“My father? He is not an Esperan,” Andon chuckled. “Not at all.”
“Would you tell me about him?”
“Of course, although I do not see why. I am sure you know him as well as I do,” he said with a shrug. Veria cocked her head, intrigued. “My father is Ambassador Willis Villicrey, and he is—I mean, was—one of your father's closest friends.”
Veria knew why Andon said 'was' that time. Ambassador Villicrey was certainly still alive, but her father was not. And he was right, she did know the Ambassador very well. Master Villicrey had made regular visits to Longberme ever since she and her mother had taken residence there. She remembered he would be gone for a few years at a time, and Lord Gordon would always say that the Ambassador was on official business. Master Villicrey was, from what Veria had heard, the King's most highly regarded and trusted ambassador, and had alone secured at least a dozen treaties of peace and fair trade documents with neighboring nations.
Veria remembered Willis Villicrey had always been white-haired, stone-faced, and lost in thought. And he did not like Madam Tanisca, so she liked him for that. When she first met him, she had the distinct feeling that he brought calm wherever he went, and she liked to pretend he was a powerful Earth Mager, but she had never asked if that were true.
“I do know him,” she said.
“I apologize,” Andon snorted.
“Why?” Veria asked. “I liked him enough.”
“He certainly is not the most kind and thoughtful person in the world,” Andon replied. “He takes his work very seriously.”
“He has an important job, and he does good work,” Veria pointed out. “I wish I had that kind of purpose.”
“You will find it,” Andon said, reassuringly. “Just try not to sacrifice the ones who love you when you do.”
“Is that what happened?” Veria asked.
“To an extent,” Andon sighed. “I think there was a time where he really thought he would stay in Esperan, with me and my mother. I have no doubt that he loved her, very deeply, and only her, in his whole life. But it just was not enough to take him away from his place here in Londess.”
“Does you father have powers?” she blurted out.
“Yes, although I think his greatest talents do not come from his elemental powers,” Andon answered.
“Do you?” she asked, nervously.
“Ha! I think I am to the age where I would notice if there were something special about me. So, my answer is no, not that I am aware of,” he chuckled. He stood, picked up a broom, and began sweeping near the fireplace.
“I think you do,” Veria said softly. “I remember Master Willis always made me feel very calm. I think you can do that to people, also.”
“Really?” Andon looked at her, perplexed. “I never felt that way around him. In fact he usually made me feel quite uneasy. I was always trying to brace myself for when he was going to leave us again.”
Veria bit her lip and felt terrible for this man, and how he felt about his father. She had been treated a lot of ways by her parents, but she had never felt abandoned.
Regarding the powers, she remembered a conversation she had with her mother about them when she was younger. If a child inherited a certain skill from a parent, typically that skill would not work on the child, whether or not the parent knowingly attempted to use the skill on them or not. This was how she was fairly certain she herself had no powers, since her mother's deception always seemed to get the better of her.
“And what did Master Villicrey tell you of the late Lord Gordon?” Veria ventured, her throat tightening and constricting her voice.
Andon paused from his sweeping and gave her a thoughtful glance. “He told me that he was loud and joyful and rambunctious and that he loved his daughter. And fought with his wife. The first one and the second one. All the time.”
“And about what happened?”
“Are you sure you want me to talk about this?” Veria nodded, so he continued, but he resumed his sweeping, so he did not have to look her in the face. “Willis mentioned that there were rumors of an affair with a member of the King's personal Consortium. And that he believed this Fire Mager attempted the assassination of King Browan, and then created the deception that it was Lord Gordon who had done it. And my father believes that is why Lord Gordon took his own life.”
Veria shuddered.
“I am sorry,” Andon said.
“Do not be sorry,” she snapped.
She sat quietly on the table, in the coat and stockings, eating the coacoa biscuit and swinging her legs, like a child. Andon swept. He was always sweeping, she thought. The topic of her father loomed so heavily in the kitchen, it was as if his spirit were actually there, watching the two of them.
“How was your day, Andon?” she asked, to break the silence.
“I had the day off, my Lady. It was pleasant. And Her Ladyship? Besides the freezing rain part.”
“I did terrible things today,” she stated plainly. And she knew, when it did not bother her to say that, she had crossed a line that could not be uncrossed. “Will you tell me about your day off?”
He crossed to the table and propped the broom against it, then pressed himself against it as well, so his hips were situated in between her knees. “I will tell you whatever you want to hear,” he said, grabbing her face in his hands. It was the first time he had touched her since their first night together, and it sent sparks flying through her skin. That powerful calm rushed through her body like warm Rosa soup and she realized she was no longer cold from her incident.
“Did you go to the Mager Fair?” she mumbled.
“Ah, yes, I did,” he grinned. “I bought a very nice sea shell to send to my uncle, and paid a silly, old Earth Mager to tell my future.”
“And what did he say?” Veria whispered, completely enthralled, and fire rising in her chest.
“He said I was going to speak to a very beautiful woman today, and he was right.” He leaned in, and all the gentleness and timidity of their first kisses was gone, and replaced with urgency and desire. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, and he carefully laid her down on the table and laid himself over the top of her. It was late enough that everyone was asleep, and no one would hear how loudly they were breathing.
It was the same act she had done earlier that day, but it was different in every way she could possibly imagine.
-V-
Veria awoke the next day in her own room, tucked neatly into her luxurious silk sheets, and wearing one of her sleeping gowns. On the table by her bed, she noticed a silver dish full of the coacoa biscuits, the flower she had worn in her braids the previous day, and a folded piece of parchment. She opened the parchment and read it to herself:
I truly apologize, my Lady, but I got to sleep in yesterday, so it is early morning chores for me today. I hope you will find some enjoyment in your day.
Also, I have folded your clothes, and put them in your chest.
Please be more careful to stay dry next time.
She smiled and folded up the note, then stuck it in the drawer of the bedside table. As she popped half of a coacoa biscuit in her mouth, she decided that she would enjoy her day. Hearing about Andon's day off, and giving Lord Rames the advice to ignore his mother's wishes, inspired her to, for once, do something for her own enjoyment. She had yet to get to do any of the things she remembered asking to do when she was young, only to be told that it was somehow beneath her.
Although, that was not true. She did get to try the Esperan food, as simple as that was. She pulled Andon's parchment back out of the drawer, and ran to her library to jot down a list of all the things she wanted to try as a child. Then she ran back to her room to put on her simplest attire and make her way to the Mager Fair. She left her dusty hair down, slipped on a cream colored dress, simple boots, and pulled the cook's brown work coat on before slipping quietly out the back door.
Andon had a puzzled look on his face and tried to catch her eye from his work bench as she casually hailed the coachman. “Let's not worry Madam Tanisca with any details of this, shall we?” she muttered, and the coolness in her voice very much resembled her mother's.
“Understood, my Lady,” and the coachman whipped the reins and they were off on the road to town.
Veria noticed the flags for the Fair before they reached the actual town, the bright triangles slapping back and forth in the chilling wind. She instructed the coachman to drop her off and let her walk a bit, and to wait in town for her.
Lord and Servant: (Book I of the Elementals Series) Page 3
