Nobody's Lady

by Amy McNulty

  Without realizing it was that scared little boy beneath it all. He’d been so eager to please me. He’d pushed down all the anger he’d felt about what I’d done to him, and he’d tried to be friends again. He’d hoped I was the “Olivière” he’d gotten to know as a child. He’d hoped I’d come to free him, that I would reward his efforts with, at the very least, a tender smile.

  It’s no wonder he treated you cruelly after that. I leaned against the table with my good hand, drumming my fingers across the surface. Two days I’d been alone. Two days I’d finally been back to the solitude I’d enjoyed at the start of the summer, and peace was still unattainable. My mind clouded freely with thoughts and images I’d done such a good job of suppressing until now.

  “Doesn’t everyone in the village say the lord is always watching?”

  “Watching, perhaps, when it strikes his fancy.”

  Ailill had been so smug, then, as if daring me to guess what exactly in the village might have captured his interest.

  I felt my chest tighten at the memory and almost lost my balance. I’d clutched the injured hand to my breast but reached out to steady myself, wincing at the pressure. The rag was dyed red, the blood dripping out onto the table.

  What was it Mother had taught me? What kind of leaves would make a poultice? My head swam, flashes of memories searing into my mind. I ran back to the basin, leaning over, almost sure I was going to throw up. Darkness danced at the edges of my sight as I stared at the puddle of water dyed red.

  So Luuk had “struck his fancy.” A child would have been my last guess. He was Jurij’s brother, and Ailill was sensitive about how I’d once felt about Jurij. But why Luuk, then, and not Jurij himself? Of course, this was me seeking a message in every coded action, a message meant for myself when I knew he was no longer in love with me. If he ever truly was.

  What was I supposed to tell Jaron and the others? I’d never seen moving pictures on a page and could only guess that was how Ailill was “always watching.” But I’d seen things—I’d lived things—that couldn’t be explained. That would turn everything upside down far more than their piece of paper.

  I dry-heaved over the red-dyed basin. My blood soaked through the rag, dropping one crimson pearl after the other onto the water’s surface.

  I thought of the time I’d spent in the castle. Of how Ailill had taken Jurij after his wedding, held my mother in a room to which I had no access. I’d worried then that he’d have his revenge on everyone I cared about, no matter how thin the connection. Luuk and Nissa. The Tailors. Alvilda. Father and Elfriede. And I was right to worry. He was watching them. He was watching us. He was still watching us. He had to be. If he had paper like this, then it only made sense.

  But what made little sense was why he’d send the paper. He wouldn’t have accidentally written the note on an enchanted piece of paper and ordered it to be given to one of my friends.

  I fumbled at my sash for the golden copper with my good hand. But then why all the indirect messages? Why bother me now, after he told me to leave him alone?

  My finger stung, and I felt the pressure of tears stirring under my eyelids, the pounding of the crying I refused to do weighing on my head. What was the poultice Mother used for cuts? I wondered again. Why am I so helpless? Why won’t my thoughts leave me alone?

  I took a deep breath, rubbing my good hand across my cheekbone and trying to soak up the moisture that had escaped against my will. Alone. Alone. Even when I wasn’t alone, I felt alone. There was no one who could even begin to understand. No one but Ailill. And I wasn’t in the mood for any of his games.

  After staring at the blood pooling on the rag over my finger, I straightened my back and grabbed my cloak, swinging it awkwardly over my shoulder with one hand. You lost her for well over a year. You thought you’d never get her back again. Why haven’t you gone to her?

  I may not have been able to tell her everything. But I sure as rain could ask Mother for help.

  ***

  When Elfriede opened the door, I almost turned right around and walked away without a word. It’s not like you didn’t expect to find her here. Seeing as how her new man has plenty of other women to share his time with.

  Elfriede’s lips soured just slightly, but she didn’t study me long. Arrow barked from behind her. I could just make out the swish of his golden tail.

  “Shh, Arrow. It’s fine.” She looked at me. “Have you been crying?”

  I rubbed my cheek again with my good hand, clutching the injured hand tighter against my chest. “No.” I tried peering over her shoulder. “Is Mother in?”

  Elfriede chewed her lip, as if considering refusing to answer me. Her gaze fell on the wrapped hand against my chest, and a flicker of something, maybe pity, passed across her pale eyes. She nodded. “Out back.” Then she slammed the door in my face.

  I took a deep breath and stepped around the house to the small yard we—they—kept behind the cottage. It’s where we grew our potatoes and other vegetables, just to save a few coppers on the stuff we had to buy from the market. We got most of our daily eggs from the chicken coop. Their daily eggs. With how long Father had been not working—since before the rest of the men lost interest in their work, thanks to Mother’s illness—I was certain Mother and Elfriede had been relying on their own crops as much as possible. I wasn’t sure what they would do now that summer was winding to a close.

  As I passed the window over the basin, I heard laughter. Elfriede’s delicate peals punctuated by a gaggle of hens. She had company. There was so much work to be done in the village, and Elfriede and her brood had nothing better to do than monopolize my family’s home and whisper about her outcast of a sister with the bloody hand.

  “Mother?” I called. I felt lightheaded. Warm, sticky blood crawled down my forearm from beneath the rag.

  Mother appeared from around the chicken coop, wiping her hands on her apron. “Noll?” She smiled and reached her arms out for an embrace. “Why haven’t you come by earlier?” She stopped, her face and arms falling. “What happened to your hand?”

  I winced as I unwrapped the blood-soaked rag. “I cut it while carving. It won’t stop bleeding.” The rag fell to the ground, soaked and useless.

  Mother examined my hand. My finger stung as she turned it over, dyeing her own palms red. “It’s bad, but not too deep. We need a poultice.” She tugged on my elbow and led me back toward the cottage.

  I froze, thinking of the women in there.

  Mother stopped. “What is it?”

  “Elfriede has company.”

  Mother nodded. “I invited the girls for dinner. We do that a lot now. Pool our coppers to afford a cut of meat once a week or so. Although I wonder if more of us should follow Roslyn’s example and look for work in the village. There’s plenty of it to be had now.”

  I hadn’t thought about how quickly Mother and Father’s savings might deplete, considering how we’d spent so much of it even before the curse broke. And at least back then, Jurij was so concerned with Elfriede’s health and happiness that he gave her all of his earnings from the Tailor Shop so we could afford more food. Now, with neither Father nor Mother nor Elfriede working …

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been more help.” Guilt squeezed at my chest. “I haven’t been drowning in riches, but my work is paying off. There’s still enough for me to buy bread and vegetables.” It helped that both were cheaper than they had been in years, to attract more customers, since everyone I knew seemed to be economizing. Every woman, anyway. “I should have brought something.”

  “Nonsense. You have your own hearth to heat.” She paused. “But today, you should stay, once we’ve gotten this taken care of.”

  “No, I ought to get back.”

  “Noll, you live a short walk from here, but I haven’t seen you in months. I’ve tried giving you your space. I just assumed, at some point, you’d finally have enough of it. You’re staying.”

  I swallowed, no
dding. Even if I was unwelcome, the hostility might prove a distraction.

  Mother guided me gently to the door and opened it. “Friede, grind some yarrow.”

  Elfriede picked up a bowl from the counter on which she prepared the roast. She pulled a pestle out of the bowl and walked across the room toward us, Arrow’s eyes on her the whole time. “I’ve already prepared it, Mother.”

  Mother smiled, and I could almost hear the “what a perfect, helpful daughter” oozing out from between her lips. “Thank you, dear.” She took the bowl and continued dragging me along, only letting me go long enough to pour some water from the bucket into the basin before dunking my hand into it.

  Mother added a little water to the bowl and picked up the pestle. I waited, unmoving. Even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel the eyes burning at my back. I’d only spared the women the briefest of glances before being dragged over to the basin. If I knew Elfriede, Marden had to be among their number. I couldn’t for the life of me think of any of her friends I hoped would be there. Somehow, all of Elfriede’s good friends seemed to have been paired with mine. I supposed it only made sense. Most goddesses weren’t a thousand years younger than their men, after all.

  Mother spread the poultice over my wound. It stung, but she grabbed harder so I wouldn’t have a chance to pull away.

  Someone cleared her throat from the table behind me. “Perhaps we should get back.”

  Mother patted my hand dry with her apron, taking care not to touch the goopy mixture at my fingertip. “Marden, dear,” she said without looking up. “You told me you’d stay for dinner.”

  I took in the women at the table out of the corner of my eye. Marden twirled her fingers through a curly, dark tendril. “I don’t think we should impose. I didn’t realize you’d have company.”

  “It’s just my daughter, dear. My husband’s out for the evening, so there’s plenty of space.” Mother smiled and let the apron fall, patting my hand gently. “It’ll be just us women.” She squeezed my hand as if to emphasize I belonged with the group.

  “Roslyn’s got an early shift tomorrow.”

  “I can stay.”

  I turned to face the table and saw the beauty who’d been with Jaron and the other men at the tavern a few days before. The one who’d left almost the moment I sat down to join them. She struggled to smile at me when I caught her eye. But she seemed to put in the effort—so much so, I felt compelled to smile back. Just a little.

  “Wonderful.” Mother clasped her hands together and crossed the room to the cupboard, pulling out the plates. “How’s the roast, dear?”

  I hadn’t noticed Elfriede standing beside the fire, turning over a hunk of well-charred meat. “It’s ready,” she said, reaching out for a set of tongs behind her.

  I grabbed a handful of skirt in my good hand and shuffled my feet, trying to decide whether it was better to run for the door or remain standing beneath the assault of the Tanner daughters’ gazes.

  “Noll, for goddess’s sake, help me set the table.”

  I jumped at the word “goddess,” immediately shuffling over to where Mother held out the wooden plates.

  “Let me,” said Roslyn, standing. “Noll is injured.” She smiled tightly again. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  I took one look at the thin, hard line of Marden’s lips and immediately cut my own struggling smile short.

  “Does Alvilda still give you her surplus of work?” Mother put her fork down beside her plate. She hadn’t taken very big portions, and she’d barely touched what little she’d taken.

  I coughed, feeling the silence hanging over the table, remembering the day we’d first brought home the stool on which I sat. The day Elfriede first invited Jurij for dinner. “She does. I mean, she did. I haven’t seen her much the past few weeks.”

  Marden snorted and stabbed a chunk of meat with her fork. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Elfriede stifled a laugh, making a great show of getting up from the table to bring over another pitcher of water.

  I tapped my plate with my fork. “She’s not upset with me, if that’s what you think. Things have just been … awkward. All around.”

  Roslyn watched me carefully over her forkful of potato. Even while Elfriede and Marden had spoken to one another and to Mother, Roslyn had yet to say a word since we’d started eating.

  “Awkward,” Marden spat as Elfriede filled her mug and sat down beside her. “That’s a mild way of putting it.”

  Mother seemed about to say something but instead took a sip from her mug. I wanted to ask if Father was at the tavern—if Father was frequently at the tavern—but I didn’t think it right to ask the question in front of an audience ready to jump down my throat.

  “Some people seem to have adjusted.” I picked at a potato on my plate. I didn’t mean for my eyes to flit accusingly toward Elfriede and Roslyn, but they did. Roslyn hadn’t done anything to make me unwelcome, and I’d already sort of hashed things out with Friede. I quickly turned to Mother. “Jaron is about as happy as I’ve ever seen any man.”

  Mother’s shoulders stiffened at the name, and I couldn’t help but watch for Elfriede’s reaction. She cupped her hand in front of her face and whispered something to Marden that caused both of them to dissolve into stifled laughter. Not what I’d expected.

  Roslyn set down her fork. “I think you’d have to be a man to be happy with how things are now.”

  I shoved a too-large piece of potato into my mouth in an attempt to stop the feelings that threatened to swell up through my chest.

  Mother stroked her mug with her finger. “Women like Alvilda.” A corner of her lips turned up. “Siofra. They’re probably happier than anyone.”

  Marden raised her eyebrows. “Because they each fell in love with another woman?”

  “Because they no longer have the burden of what to do with the love of men.” Mother reached across the table to grab Elfriede’s pitcher of water and poured herself a glass. “Men whose love they never wanted anyway.”

  I lowered my fork. There was something about her tone that made the rest of the food on my plate suddenly unappetizing.

  “I’m glad you’ve all been trying to move on.” Mother cradled her mug, not overly concerned with drinking from it. “Girls, it’s time we stopped feeling sorry for ourselves. It’s time we stopped waiting around for men to worship us. It’s not going to happen anymore.”

  “Mother, is there something wrong with you and—”

  She held out a hand to stop me, lowering her mug without even having a sip. “Things with your father are right where we both want them to be.”

  “But you never got remarried.”

  Mother snorted. “Who needs a piece of paper?” She grimaced. “We’re … working through some things. We both need some space. Time to reevaluate who we are. And there’s no room for bitterness in this. Things are different. We just have to accept that.”

  Roslyn burst into tears. She sobbed so hard her shoulders shook. Marden wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into an embrace. Elfriede jumped up to stand behind her, tucking Roslyn’s hair behind her shoulders. Mother touched her elbow. I froze.

  “It’s just … ” Roslyn pulled away from her sister and wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “I lost everything. Not just Darwyn, but my way of life. The feeling that someone was there for me, no matter what happened. Knowing I meant everything to someone, even if I meant nothing to anyone else. The things that got me through the day, the reasons I woke up in the morning.”

  Elfriede stroked her hair. “We’re here for you, Roslyn. We feel the same way.”

  “And you’re not nothing to us, Lyn. We’re family,” Marden added, her own eyes glistening.

  “I know. I know.” Roslyn hiccupped as she took a deep breath. “It’s not that I’m not grateful to have the job at the tavern. Or to be back home. But the tavern work is so different, nothing like the bakery, and things are so te
nse between Mother and Father at the tannery. And you’re just as miserable as I am, Mar.”

  Marden snorted. “I’m over being miserable. Sindri can take a jump off the mountainside for all I care.”

  “Marden. You don’t mean that.” Elfriede was crying, too. She let go of Roslyn’s shoulder just for a moment to wipe a tear from her own eye. Then she and Marden stared at one another and laughed, choking on hiccups.

  “No, I do mean it.” Marden threw her shoulders back and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “I mean, I wouldn’t be happy if he jumped off the mountainside.”

  Roslyn’s voice was quieter. “But what if there was never any hope of you getting back with Sindri?” She craned her head up to look behind her. “Or Jurij?”

  Elfriede’s smile vanished, and she patted Roslyn’s shoulder lightly. “There isn’t any hope.”

  I grabbed my mug of water with a shaking hand and brought it to my lips, dying for a way to occupy myself.

  Marden shook her head. “It’s not a matter of hope. I’m not hoping for that.” She leaned back in her chair. “Why would I want this man I hardly know back? He’s not the man who worshipped me. He’s not my Sindri. That man’s gone.”

  Roslyn wiped her nose on her sleeve. “But my Darwyn really is gone.” She heaved a great sob and buried her head in her arms on the table. Mother carefully leaned forward to pull the plate out of her way. “He’s in love with another man!”

  I spit out my water, immediately drawing the attention of every other person in the room—and the dog for that matter.

  Marden rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I thought you were one of the boys.”

  I nearly tipped the mug over as I clumsily put it back on the table. “I’ve seen them a few times. I don’t know everything they’ve been up to.” Darwyn wrapped in a sheet, walking into the room a few minutes later with Tayton, the looks and light touches that passed between them that night—all of a sudden everything took on a very different meaning. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve.