Lord and Servant: (Book I of the Elementals Series)

by Marisol Logan

  “I think I am in love with you, Lady Veria,” he said.

  “Ha!” Veria cackled, throwing her head back.

  “What is funny?” He sounded hurt.

  “It is a bit late for that, is it not?” she sneered.

  “I told you, this is all my mother's doing!” he persisted. “I have no desire to marry Lady Ambra, and an increasing desire to actually call it off! I cannot stop thinking about our last visit, and especially about what you said. About listening to mothers.”

  Veria stayed silent, so as not to ruin anything Lord Rames was about to say. She wanted to hear every bit of his speech to her, in hopes it would give her an upper hand. As much as she disliked hearing her own words fed back to her, she was very intent to hear if Lord Rames had anything more than just idle speculation to offer.

  “I have decided that I want to live my own life,” he said. “And I think that has something to do with you, and not that silly Ambra. I hardly know her.”

  “You hardly know me,” Veria pointed out.

  “But you are so like me!” he cried. “I feel like I know you. And from what I know of you, I know I like you better than most people I meet.”

  Lord Rames slid his grip down her arms to take her hands.

  Veria marveled at how one intimate encounter with a man could make them go completely mad. First Andon upset with her, now Lord Rames so affectionate and serious.

  “I am going to talk to my mother,” he said with a sigh. “There really is no gain by marrying Lady Ambra, other than just to provide an heir. My mother has her plans, but she does care about my happiness, I think. She will see this engagement is making me unhappy.”

  Rames waited for Veria to speak, but now she had nothing to say. What was she supposed to say? She knew she had no feelings for him, other than a fond memory of their first encounter, and few less-than-fond memories of their other encounters. But marrying into the Chadron Regalship was everything her mother wanted for her. It was a future. It was power. She could at least tolerate Lord Rames on a regular basis. She was not positive if she bought into the idea that they were so similar to each other, like he believed they were. But they were alike enough that she could understand him, and his situation.

  “You—you don't have to say anything now,” Rames said, finally. “I know this is a lot to put on you, Veria, I just...wanted you to know what I was thinking.”

  “Well, that is always appreciated,” she lied. She really felt today, especially, that hearing what others were thinking was at the bottom of her list of desires.

  “I shall plan to meet you in a few days' time,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I can just call on you here, but no need for luncheon next time. We can just have a quiet meeting here, in the garden.”

  Veria nodded, and he pulled her in to kiss her on the cheek. She received the token of affection unenthusiastically. And staring over his shoulder, she eyed a glinting stone lying under her favorite flora bushes. Lord Rames squeezed her hand again, and said his parting words, then made his way to his carriage.

  As soon as he was gone, Veria rushed over to the bush and picked up the object she had seen. It was the sapphire from the Earth Mager at the Mager Fair. But she had given it back to him...had she not? Someone must be playing a trick on her, she thought. She squeezed the stone tight and sighed, then she rushed inside, through the back door.

  And there he was, cleaning dishes from lunch.

  “Ah, good afternoon, Lady Veria,” Andon practically purred. “How was your lunch with the Lordship of Chadron?”

  She did not feel like answering him and the idle chatter that would follow. So she pressed her chosen topic. “What is this?” Veria asked, holding the stone under his face so he could see.

  He laughed. “It is a sapphire, Lady Veria,” he chuckled. “I think you know that.”

  “Well, yes! I know that!” she huffed. “But what is the meaning of it?”

  “The meaning of a sapphire?” Andon repeated. “My father used to always say that he envied the Sapphires, for they could find the truth so easily. I do not know what that means,” he shrugged.

  “Neither do I,” Veria said, dismissively. “And I do not mean sapphires in general, I mean what is the meaning of this one in particular being placed in my day-dreaming spot?” she demanded. “Are you playing a trick on me because you are upset with me?”

  “I am not—Veria!” he splashed the dishes down in the wash basin and grabbed her wrists with his cold, wet hands. She shivered and tried to wiggle away, but he did not loosen his grasp, and he stepped in closer. “I am not upset with you,” he said, so softly it was almost a whisper. “I am upset with the situation, which is as much my doing as yours, so let us just move past it. Please? You were right. I spent the whole time you were in there having lunch thinking about how awful it would be to not be friendly to you.”

  Again, a man confessing his thoughts to her. What was going on? she thought. Andon's dark eyes surveyed every feature of her face, so Veria made sure not to make any odd expressions.

  “As far as the sapphire in question,” he said, clearing his throat, “I am not sure what to tell you. I am many things, but a practical joker is not one of them.” He shrugged and let go of her wrists, and she opened her hand to expose the stone.

  “The truth?” Veria asked.

  “The truth,” Andon repeated with a grin.

  “The truth is,” she sighed, “nobody cares about the truth unless it benefits them. And that is something I care very little about. I want the truth to matter, or to mean something, but everyone treats it like a possession. Like this.” She held the sapphire out, and shrugged. “I don't want to know the truth if that means I have to respond to it, if that makes sense. Just because somebody speaks the truth does not mean it will come true.”

  “You do not believe there is a way that things should be?” Andon asked.

  “Ha!” she threw her head back. “Do you?”

  “I would like to think so, yes,” he answered. “Otherwise, why are we here? And what are we doing?”

  “I do not have the slightest clue,” Veria mumbled with gritted teeth.

  “Well,” Andon said, after studying her for a bit, “if you are interested more about the Earth Element, I have received word from my father that he is between missions and would like to visit. I have been completely avoiding responding to him, but, if it would put your mind at ease about this sapphire, I think I might be able to handle his presence for a day.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Veria asked.

  “Oh, probably not,” Andon sighed. “I guess I just became accustomed to thinking a certain way. Our thoughts can be hard to give up. Sometimes, they are all we can truly call our own.”

  “I have come to the realization that not a single person I know wants to hear my thoughts, or cares for them,” Veria scoffed.

  Andon looked at her with a very stern expression. “I would give every sapphire in the world to know your thoughts,” he said.

  Veria felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she looked away from him, and squeezed her sapphire. She was not sure if she even had very many thoughts of her own, other than the disdain for other people planting their thoughts into her life.

  “You would probably be disappointed,” she said to Andon, and she left the kitchen briskly.

  She did not doubt anything he had said to her during their conversation. In fact, she felt the very strange and unnatural reassurance that she did not doubt anything that had been said to her today by anyone, at all. She went to her room and wrote a note to her mother that Master Villicrey should be invited for dinner as soon as possible, then sent the note with the maid who brought her a dinner tray and a clean night gown and wash basin, hours later.

  When she had to let go of the sapphire to wash her face and hands, her heart raced in fear. She had been clutching it for comfort since she had found it, and when she let go, she felt extremely uneasy and alone. Veria clutched it in her hand all through her fitful sl
eep, in which everyone she knew was pouring their every thought out to her. They all told the truth, but it was not always what she wanted to hear.

  And yet, the one person whom she wanted to hear the truth from would not appear. When she awoke in the middle of the night, one of many times, she had the distinct thought that she deeply wanted to know the truth about her father. And she fell back into a nightmarish sleep.

  -VIII-

  The morning of Master Villicrey's visit, Veria spent a solid hour in the kitchen helping the cook plan the dishes to be served, only to have Tanisca come in at the end and change the whole arrangement, kicking Veria out to the garden to collect ireas for a centerpiece.

  “You like it out there anyway,” Tanisca said, waving her daughter away from the cupboard. “You need not worry yourself about matters of the kitchen.”

  Veria rolled her eyes and trudged out the back door into the garden, but a quick scan revealed that all the ireas were gone, no doubt in her mother's arrangements. She remembered a patch of wild ireas on the path to town, so she started walking.

  “Lady Veria! Where are you going?” came Andon's voice from the stables, and he jaunted across the garden to her. “You are not going to leave me all alone with my father this afternoon? And your mother,” he added with a smirk.

  “I am going to pick some flowers,” she answered.

  “Do you need a horse?” Andon asked, gesturing back to the stables.

  “I will not be going that far, nor will I be gone for long. No need to worry,” she said quietly.

  “I always worry,” Andon stated, matching her quiet tone.

  “About me? Well, that is silly,” Veria chuckled. “Why?”

  Andon reached down and took her right hand into his own warm, sweaty pair. Using one hand to pry open her tight fist, he revealed the shiny sapphire. Veria had hardly realized that she had been clutching it all morning again. Andon studied her face as she stared at the gem resting in her open palm.

  “I cannot see why this little thing—”

  “Would mean anything?” Andon interrupted. “Neither do I. But you seem to think it does. And you have been so quiet lately.”

  “I am always quiet!” Veria snapped.

  Andon smiled. “I know, you have told me that before.”

  “Then why are you treating me like there is something wrong with me?” she cried.

  “I never said—that's not what—”

  “Yes, Andon, it is,” she said, pulling her hand away from him. “You seem overly interested in my personal life, and then when I seem mildly intrigued about my past or my father or some ridiculous sapphire, you are more than happy to fly in with some answers or a solution, or a stupid horse, so you can be the hero. So you can fix me and all my problems, like I am one of your damn chores!”

  “Veria!” Andon yelled as she stormed away. “Veria, stop being ridiculous! Come back here and talk to me!”

  “I am not ridiculous!” she yelled back to him, without turning around or slowing her determined pace. She half expected Andon to run after her, but he did not follow, and within a few minutes she had left the grounds of the estate, and was enveloped in the shadow of the woods.

  Fog from the forest swirled out onto the small footpath she walked along, obscuring her vision of where she was placing her feet, and causing her a few stumbles on large rocks and fallen limbs. She could hardly see, let alone see any irea patches along the footpath, and figured she would have to step off the path and into the woods to find any decent plots.

  It was minutes of walking away from the path before she found any blooms. Wild ireas were usually lighter in color, with odd dappling patterns that made them less attractive than their deep violet, cultivated relatives. But, Veria thought, they were still beautiful, and if her mother complained, it was her own fault for using all of the flowers from the garden. Further into the woods, a large wild flora bush caught her eye. She continued toward it, farther away from the path to the point that the sky, as gray and misty as it was, could hardly even be seen through the leafy treetops and thick forestation.

  She laid down, under the wild bush, and noted that the forest floor was much softer and colder than the grounds of the estate. Her clothing immediately soaked up the moisture from the mossy, muddy ground. She would have to change before dinner, and she did not care. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she tried to place the feelings of frustration with Andon to the back of her mind, just like she always tried to do at her spot in the garden.

  But one thing she couldn't understand was why his words and his observations always hit a nerve with her. He was handsome and smart, and caring and tender, yet he annoyed her to the point of anger more often than not.

  “What have I done?” she groaned out loud. They had just gotten to a point of mutual friendliness and understanding, and she erupted on him again. She'd have to apologize, which she did not like doing, otherwise dining with his father would be even more tense for Andon.

  Veria was not sure how long she laid there, playing with the light lavender blooms of the large, intricate ireas while absentmindedly daydreaming about a world in which she had a different life. What would she have done if she were her mother? A simple woman with wonderful powers and beauty and strength? The common men lined up outside her door, wanting to marry her, and not because she had driven them to desire with her Fire powers, but because she was attractive and beguiling and independent.

  Feeling a warmth that could not have been real in the thick cold fog of the forest, Veria pictured herself in a cream colored dress and a linen apron, standing in front of a pot of Rosa in the hearth. In this daydream, she imagined Andon coming through the door of a warm, simple home and surprising her with a bouquet of wild ireas, and she collapsed into his strong embrace. She ran her own fingers along her neck as she envisioned him caressing ever part of her: her face, her arms, her chest, the small of her back, and then spending an extra amount of time on her abdomen. There, it was not typical caressing. It was primal, protective, and vulnerable.

  A wave of discomfort lurched through her stomach and she rolled onto her side on the ground, preparing to be sick. Her throat felt tight, and she felt like she wanted to sob, but didn't know why. She sat up quickly and dropped the flowers, digging frantically in her pocket for her sapphire and squeezing it so tightly in her hand when she found it that her knuckles went instantly white. Her breath was coming in short gasps through her constricted throat, until she stood and started running back toward the path, and it normalized out of necessity from her exertion.

  After what felt like half and hour, Veria slowed her gait and was dizzy from the effort, realizing with horror that she was likely lost. She doubled over in an attempt to catch her breath again, and upon realizing that she had also forgotten the wild ireas, finally began to cry. The tears warmed her face, and she sobbed openly, giving into gravity and letting her knees hit the ground. Every decision she had made in the past several weeks haunted her and filled her with doubt and frustration, and she banged her fists into the soft, muddy earth.

  The Earth. The Earth was truth, and the Earth was calm. Things she wanted so badly it hurt. She figured she would never have truth, as she had spent most of her life with a person who lived by deception. And she figured she would never have calm, because she was now so fundamentally at odds with the life that had been chosen for her. And just as she was about to curl up again on the ground of the forest, she heard Andon's voice calling her name.

  “Lady Veria!” he yelled, no hint of the usual smooth and confident tone. Just urgency and anxiety. “Veria!” Oh sakes, she thought to herself, feeling too cold and light-headed to move, there he goes dropping my title again. But, she knew it really didn't bother her. If she could just get to him...

  Veria must have been closer to the path than she thought, because she heard hooves and the rustling of limbs and leaves.

  “Here!” she yelled as loud as she could muster, and it came out sounding quite like the sobs she ha
d been indulging. “Over here!” she shouted again, this time louder and painful as her voice broke through the tightness in her throat.

  The sounds of horse and rider grew louder as they made their way to her, and finally crashed through hedge and limb to stop just before her slumped, kneeling figure. Andon was off the horse before it had even come to a complete stop and by her side in an instant. She let him help her up, and he held her by her middle while he examined her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked gravely.

  “I'm fine!” Veria snapped, feeling so happy that Andon had found her, but also feeling all the frustrations she had felt toward him earlier that morning. “I can take care of myself!” she added.

  “I have not argued otherwise, my Lady,” he replied, the tranquility returning to his voice. She felt it, trying to take her over, which infuriated her, as she was not ready to be calmed by him yet.

  “And I am not ridiculous!” she yelled at him. “Or amusing, so don't even think about laughing.”

  “I would do no such thing,” he said in an even tone.

  “There is nothing wrong with me,” she said, much softer than her other protests.

  “I know,” Andon whispered, wiping his thumb across her cheek, she presumed to clear it of dirt, or tears.

  “You cannot fix me,” she added, even softer.

  “I do not wish to,” he said.

  “And you do not have to protect me, or attend to me,” she practically whispered.

  Andon finally sighed. “I know I do not need to,” he said dropping his head. Then he looked her in the eyes and came in closer to her. “But I want to.”

  “I am very lost,” Veria muttered as Andon put his thumb closer to her lips.

  “You are not lost now.”

  “No, I mean, I am confused,” she said, shaking her head. “It is so frustrating!” she cried, regaining some of her volume and emotion from the beginning of her rant.

  “What is?” Andon asked, squinting his eyes at her as he fondled a loose tendril of her hair.