by Casey Odell
It was her turn to nod. She could already feel the worry lines start to form around her eyes, and her forehead, even around her mouth. Who knew— maybe by the time Farron returned from his mission, she’d look like a withered old hag. He’d surely turn tail and run then. It would be sad, but it sure would make her task, not easy, but easier. That is if he came back at all.
Jasmine petals floated on the warm water, caressed by a thin wispy layer of steam. The baths were dark, lit only by the golden glow of a hundred tiny candles sprinkled throughout the room. Claire soaked in the waters, her head back against the side, hair pulled back in a loose bun. A wine bottle sat half empty along the edge, a burgundy she’d found in the palace’s dank cellars.
It wasn’t until then, several hours after her encounter with the King, that everything truly sunk in. A tear escaped one of her closed eyes, dripping into the water with a resonating plip.
She had tried to be strong, was still trying. But she could only take so much. None of her original problems had been solved, her mother was still missing, centaurs probably still rampaged across the land. On top of that, a hefty load of new worries had been added to the pile. Soon she would be forced to say goodbye to the only ally she had left. She would be left all alone, and then it would only be a matter of time before she would be forced to choose a side. The King or the Council. None of them seemed very appealing. Unless, that is, her time came before that happened. That last thought sent a chill throughout her body.
Did she love Farron? It was hard to say. Not that it mattered much now anyway. She may have had a hard time admitting it, even now, but she did undoubtedly care for the elf. Definitely much more than she liked to admit. Just the thought of seeing such a hurt look on his face when she ended it summoned more tears to the surface. But it was for his own good. He’d saved her life multiple times. It about time she returned the favor. She wasn’t very good at many things, but at least this she could do. Would do. She may not like the idea of him leaving—especially now— but like the King had said, at least he would be far away from the Council’s schemes. Whatever trouble he got into after that, well, that would be his own problem.
She raised her right arm out of the water. Everything, all of her problems, was due to this thing. This vile mark. Without it, she’d be living a peaceful life somewhere with her mother. Maybe even her real mother. If it had never existed, she wouldn’t be caught up in some grand plot.
With her left hand, she grabbed the rough sponge sitting on the side of the bath and began to scrub. Not her body— that had already been cleaned— but her right arm, starting at her elbow, pressing hard against her skin.
The tears quickly turned to sobs as she worked the sponge down her arm. “Go away,” she muttered, her voice sounding desperate even to her. A slight burn started along her skin, but she continued. Determined to wash away the mark, to scrub away the scar the General had left, and relieve her of her problems.
A light whimper escaped her lips as the water stung her raw skin. She raised her arm again, but the mark was still there. So was the scar.
“Why can’t you just go away?” She heaved the sponge across the room and it collided with an incense lamp, sending the brass clanging loudly across the floor, leaving a trail of ash in its wake. She stood and wiped the tears away with the palm of her hands, which only made her cheeks wetter, but at least it wasn’t her tears anymore. The skin on her arm throbbed and was starting to swell.
With the mark still in its place on her arm, it seemed that yet again, she was powerless to change her own fate. No matter how much she scrubbed, it would always be there, the tendrils growing ever longer, until one day they finally consumed her.
“I can call him back if you want,” Lianna offered. She sat on the edge of Claire’s bed, her brows knitted together in a worried look. “Razi, I mean. He may be able to help more since he is the one who found your powers.”
The sun shone brightly in the early morning. The curtains to her balcony were left open to let in a refreshing breeze. Lianna had let herself in, waking Claire from a restless dream with a hand on her arm. It wasn’t the first time she had done it, and for that she was grateful.
It had been almost two weeks since they had both left. Farron and Razi. The nightmares had gotten worse, along with the mark, now reaching just past her elbow. Red patches still dotted her arm from when she had scrubbed at it in the baths, still hopeful that one of these days it will just rinse off in those warm fragrant waters. Since their talk the week before, Lianna had tried her best to keep her occupied, and her magic in check, though she was still reluctant to touch her. But Claire didn’t complain. Relief filled her each time that she did so, like drinking a warm glass of milk in the middle of a sleepless night. Even being around Lianna seemed to calm her. The strange artifact that she had kept by the bed was growing less and less effective.
“No,” Claire said as she sat up in bed. Her eyes stung from too little sleep, and she didn’t have to look in the small vanity mirror to know there were dark moons under them. “I’m fine, really.” She summoned the best possible smile she could in the morning.
Usually, Claire would meet her around noon for tea in her wondrous garden. ‘To enjoy the greenery and colors before they fade,’ Lianna would say. She hadn’t practiced much since Razi left, afraid that she would just make the mark even worse. She had, however, indulged in many of the wonderful sweets the palace had to offer. And the occasional glass, or two, of wine.
“Have it your way then,” Lianna said as she put a hand to Claire’s forehead. “However, you do not look fine.”
Claire grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. She would have felt underdressed in her tiny slip of a nightgown if Lianna herself wasn’t in a robe and slippers. And she had a good feeling that was all she wore. The deep purple silk clung to her curves in all the right places.
“What is it that you want so early anyway?” she asked as her fingers started to work on the braid in her hair. For some reason, she always felt less feminine around Lianna and found herself— unconsciously, she kept telling herself— primping when around her.
Lianna leaned back on the bed, making herself at home. “There is going to be a ball,” she said with a flair of her hand. “Though I doubt it will be the same my family would throw. They hardly ever are.”
“When?” Claire asked, her interest piqued. It could be just what she needed to lift her out of her slump.
“At the end of the week. Nothing too elaborate, it’s just for the ambassadors and the local nobility.” She looked at Claire, eyebrow arched. “Are you interested?”
“In going?” Claire asked, slightly perplexed. She may have been in a slump, but she wasn’t dead. She would have to be in order to refuse going to a fancy ball. “Of course.”
“Good!” Lianna exclaimed, suddenly springing up. “Then get ready. I will take you to see Monnesito, my personal tailor.”
“In the city?” Her excitement grew. She hadn’t been out of the palace in so long she was starting to forget what the outside world looked like.
“Of course,” Lianna waved a hand dismissively. “Now hurry up, we do not have all day.” She pulled the sheet off of Claire before slipping out the door to get dressed herself.
Marla entered then, comb already in hand.
An hour later, Claire sat in an enclosed carriage on plush velvet cushions, swaying gently back and forth as they made their way down to the city below. Lace curtains filtered the sunlight streaming in through the windows. The sound of the horses’ hooves click-clacked loudly on cobblestone road.
Lianna sat across from her, dressed in her finest, though to Claire, everything the woman wore seemed to be her finest. Flowers covered her beige bodice, red and blue and green, delicate and beautiful, her skirts full and made of crimson and beige silk.
Claire dressed simply and comfortably in brown slacks and a fitted burgundy shirt. Her boots looked worn and clunky next to the other woman’s silk heels. But it made no
matter. Exploring in a dress didn’t make much sense to her. And besides, dressing so fancy was bound to draw attention, attention that she just wasn’t used to.
Her fingers worked deftly at her hair, redoing the braid Marla had so painstakingly undone. She stared out the window, between the dainty drapes, her stomach twisting into knots. Excitement mingled with nervousness.
Guards surrounded the coach. Ten of them, she’d counted. When Claire asked why they’d needed so many, Lianna had only smiled and shrugged, saying that these were troubling times. They weren’t going to be attacked, were they? She was suddenly thankful that she’d dressed more as a commoner then.
The road slanted, circling around the side of the cliff down to the city. Claire kept her eyes on the horizon. The wheels of the carriage seemed a little too close to the edge for her comfort. Red roofs spread out below them, growing taller at a slow but steady pace.
“The king wishes to restore the magic,” Claire said, breaking the long silence. “Did you know that?”
Lianna slowly waved a collapsible fan of fine white lace to cool herself. “Of course,” she said, her voice curt.
“Is the King as good as you say he is?” She still had her doubts about him.
“Why did you refuse?” Lianna fixed her with cold eyes.
The question caught her off guard. She hadn’t mentioned anything to her about it since her talk with the king, and Lianna hadn’t asked. So why now? “How did—?”
“Tell me, Claire, what do you think the Council will do when they find that this doesn’t work?” Lianna reached over and grabbed her arm and shoved her sleeve up. “They know how it awakens, how to force it out of you if necessary. And believe me, they have much more practice with that. They’ll get what they want. They’ve tried the nice way, but they are not patient. Razi has vouched for you. He was the one who asked for time.”
Her throat became tight, her mouth dry. “Time before what?” That was a stupid question, to which she already knew the answer.
“Before the Council takes matters into their own hands.” Lianna released her arm and slumped back against the seat. “You cannot hide that thing forever, Claire.”
Silence fell over the cabin. She’d never known Razi had done that for her. He’d never told her anything. For the best, perhaps. She should have known that her new idle life of luxury couldn’t last forever. Maybe the life of a mistress wouldn’t be that bad, considering the other choice of possible torture.
“Do you love him? The King?” she asked, curious about her possible future paramour. Her head spun just thinking about it.
“Love,” Lianna said the word with an amused laugh. “I would say it’s more complicated than that. Necessity, maybe. Money, perhaps. There are not many paths for women to take in this society. I simply chose the one that was best for me.” She snapped the fan closed and looked at Claire intently. “I may not love His Highness, at least not in the traditional sense, but I do care for him. More than I should. I appreciate what he has given me, what he has done for me and my family. Someday you will learn that there are things, needs, greater than love. Love won’t put food on the table, or give you shelter, or provide for you…” She took a deep breath. “But I suppose I am trying to convince myself more than you. You have the luxury to choose. I did not.”
“Does it bother you that he has a child with another woman?”
Lianna considered that question for a moment, a frown marring her beautiful full lips. “As his mistress, it shouldn’t, but as a woman who cares for him, it does. But it does not matter. It was bound to happen. He needed an heir, with a respectable woman, or elf. They must keep the line pure.” She looked at Claire, green eyes full of a curious pity. “Besides, it is very rare a union such as ours could produce a child.”
Claire knew what she was insinuating, so she was able to keep her face even. But really, it was her that pitied Lianna. Stuck in such a life— and although Lianna would never admit to actually hating it— where the man that shared her bed slept with another woman and had a family. The king would eventually tire of her, as men are wont to do, or his wife would grow tired of their late night meetings. Then what would happen to her? Perhaps the same thing that had happened to Farron’s mother. Or maybe worse.
A slight smile replaced Lianna’s frown. “But I do not mind it so much when it is my bed he seeks more often than not, while she runs home to that northern keep in the foothills of the Hansills she calls a home for most of the year.”
“Why do you do it when you can have any man you want and live a life much better than this, far away from here?” She knew she would. This place was… cold. It was the only way she could describe it.
“Power.”
Claire was quiet as she waited for the other woman to go on.
“I could have my pick, this is true. Even if I defied my father in doing so. But name me one man that could give me the sort of power the king does?” she asked, eyes ablaze. “Here I am free. Here I have as many rights as any man. I will not give that up so easily. You will see if you choose it.” She placed a hand on Claire’s wrist. “You are a lot like me in some ways. You wish for the same things I do. Respect, freedom, power... wealth.”
“What about honor?” Claire asked. From what she’s seen so far, there seemed to be very little honor or respect in the palace. What would the point in wealth be if she had to give up who she was and believed to gain it?
“Why should women be expected to be honorable when so few men are?” Lianna inquired, eyebrow raising. “Oh yes, they may act honorable to each other’s faces, but behind closed doors, they are worse than the rats that plague the dungeons.”
As much as she didn’t want to, Claire couldn’t help but agree with her. Even in her own eighteen years, she had never met a truly honorable man. A fact that her mother warned her of once before, years ago. But back then she was far too naïve to listen. Back then, her betrothed hadn’t abandoned her yet. Nor had a General betrayed her.
“Even our precious little Farron is trying so hard to make up for a past he doesn’t even want to speak of.”
That drew Claire’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a reason he tries so hard to hide his past from you, mien anaire. Lords used to tremble at his name, feared the shadows, dreaded the day when the Sin de Reine finally came for them.” Her green eyes swept over Claire. “But you… you are so innocent, so pure. He wants to be good for you, because of you.”
“Oh,” Claire managed to utter. Her cheeks burned madly. She really wasn’t that innocent, was she?
“But honor will get you killed here— sooner or later it will. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Claire was quiet as she mulled her words over. The life of a mistress was not honorable, but for a tavern maiden, the concubine of a king may be the best one from her social status could ever hope for. But that sort of life wasn’t for her. She wanted more than that. She wanted love, a family, a normal life.
They were surrounded by city then, by the hustle and bustle of life. She could hear the guards shouting to clear the way for the carriage. Curious faces peered into the windows as they passed.
Derenan was old, the streets paved with weathered gray cobblestone, the buildings made of brick and stone, most no higher than two stories. The neighborhood was affluent. Which wasn’t too surprising so close to the palace entrance. Women wore long dresses of silk, some with large ribbons fastened around their waists and tied in a great big bow at the back. Many carried colorful fans similar to the one Lianna used. Men looked dapper in fitted jackets and waistcoats.
As they bounced along the street, Claire watched in awe as the districts changed, so different than her own hometown, but similar too. The markets seemed just as lively, inns and taverns lined avenues and side streets, people went on with their daily lives.
It seemed like another hour had passed until they finally came to a stop in front of a shop. The small door opened and the coachman offered Lianna a
hand down. Claire followed quietly, taking the kind hand down thankfully. A gown of rich green silk and lace stood in one of the windows, with red slippers and hat. The building was pretty, decorated with columns and arches in a soft sandstone with a balcony on the second floor covered with flowers.
Claire sighed, hoping that balcony wasn’t Lianna’s as well.
“Come, my dear,” Lianna said as she slipped a hand through Claire’s arm and led her to the door.
She peeked over her shoulder as the carriage pulled away and the guards took their places in front of the building and along the street.
“Do not worry, they will not enter,” Lianna told her.
Much to Claire’s surprise, the inside didn’t match the elegance of the exterior. Gaudy was all she could think of the excessively decorated room. Mirrors filled one wall with a raised pedestal. Curved couches and seats took up most of the area with a desk on the far wall. A hallway led further into the depths of the building closed off with a purple curtain.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” called a man as he stepped through the curtain. Short and stocky, with bronzed skin, thinning black hair, and features that somehow reminded her of a frog, he was surely one of the strangest men she’d ever laid eyes on. His deep burgundy silk jacket matched his pants, tucked into knee high black and white striped socks. He stepped with a lively flair as he made his way to them, dark brown eyes sparkling as he took Claire in.
“Monnesito!” The word rolled off Lianna’s tongue as if she’d said it hundreds of times before.
He kissed Lianna once on each cheek. “It has been too long. I started to fear that you had found someone else.” White lace nearly engulfed his neck, touching his chin when he spoke.
Claire looked at Lianna, her eyes a little wide.
“Meet Monnesito Georgelno. He will be making your dress.” Lianna smiled wide.
The man took Claire’s hand and kissed it. “It is very nice to meet you, Mien Serté.” His accent was similar to Lianna’s.
