by Janeal Falor
Chapter Sixteen
Light streams into the room. I roll away from it. A breakfast tray sits on my bedside table. I groan and pull a pillow over my head. Then I realize I'm still wearing my dress and necklace. I bounce up, flinging the pillow from me. My hand goes to my neck where I was cut at the ceremony, then to where the pricks hurt me last night. My skin feels as smooth as always. My head was so distant last night, perhaps none of it was real.
Grateful I don't have to pull the cord that rings for Phyllis, I grab the tray and set it on my lap. A note waits with my name on it. I ignore it in favor of strawberries and some pastries. Once my stomach isn't so ravenous, I grab the note.
Tell Phyllis that Councilman Stephen won't be rid of me so easily.
~Zade
I lurch to my feet, and the tray falls to the floor with a crash. I step on a strawberry, squashing it beneath my foot, as I hurry to the mirror. Just above my right collar bone is a hollow circle, like a ring, about cherry-sized. A thin line curving around top, thickening as it bends toward the bottom. I brush my fingers over it. My brand.
“Doesn't look like a new mark. Skin's not red enough.”
I jump and almost scream, but stop the sound from escaping. Phyllis stands behind me.
“Don't startle me like that.”
“I knocked but you didn't answer, and it's almost lunch time so I figured you should be awake. It's plain for an engagement brand.” She sounds more curious than disdainful like I'm expecting.
I look back in the mirror. Definitely not as elaborate as some, but he could be saving that for the wedding.
Phyllis clucks her tongue. “My, you made a mess this morning.”
Suddenly, I'm aware of the wet, mushed strawberry beneath my foot. As I peel it off, I notice it left pink marks across the rug leading to the dropped tray. I hope Phyllis isn't too upset over the mess. It'll be a pain to clean. I move to help her, but stop when I remember the tea.
“The note might as well be for you. Take it with you when you're done cleaning.”
I grab clean clothing, and leave without another word, slamming the door. Cynthia should have been awake hours ago. In fact, I can't believe I slept so late. I pound on her door with my free hand. A moment later, it opens.
Cynthia takes one look at me and opens the door wider. Once I'm in, she closes the door and leans against it. “How was it?”
I throw my clothes on a table and slump into a chair. “I can't talk about it.”
She eyes my brand, but doesn't mention it. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Unless you can get rid of Phyllis, no.”
“Phyllis?” She moves to the chair across from me. “What does she have to do with it?”
“If she ever offers you tea, turn it down. If anyone offers you tea that smells like dirt, throw it at them.”
“Are you well, Serena?”
“No. It was awful. It made me not myself. I was far away and couldn't control my actions. Whatever I was told to do, I did.” I put my hands to my face. “Just promise me you'll never drink anything that smells like dirt or that someone says will help when it's your time for this.”
“If it makes you feel better, I promise not to.”
It doesn't matter what she promises. If someone threatens her, she won't have a choice.
My dress is wrinkled from being slept in. Part of me doesn't want to take it off, the other part wants it gone. Mostly, I hope there's no punishment for my wearing it. I rise and begin unlacing my dress. “Would you help me change?”
Cynthia stares at me a moment before saying, “You can unlace your dress? I didn't know we could have ones like that. Where did you get it?”
“It's from my engagement ceremony.”
She throws my change of clothes back down and comes closer, inspecting it. “That's your engagement dress?”
“It is.”
“But it's not black, and it's an actual dress.”
“Rather lovely isn't it? Crinkled and in need of a good washing now.” I glance down at it. “Perhaps I should just burn it.”
“What? No, don't do that. If you really want to be rid of it, I'll take it for you.”
I resume unlacing. “Why do you want it?”
“Why don't you?”
Because I can still feel it flapping in the air while I'm plummeting to the ground. Because the cold stone of the altar seeped into it. Because my blood might as well be one with it.
Neither of us says anything as she helps me into some clean clothes. A bath would feel nice, but I'll wait to draw one for myself when Phyllis isn't around. I ball up my red dress and throw it toward the door. Cynthia goes after it.
“Just leave it. If you want it so bad, I'll clean it for you.”
Ignoring me, she picks it up, folds it, and places it on a side table. Her fingers continue to pick at it. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but yesterday, was the Envadi barbaric as it's said they are?”
I adjust my sleeves. “I wish I could tell you everything. Nothing was as I thought it would be, not even the Chancellor.”
I take off the necklace, never to wear another. The Woman's Canon says that a woman who is engaged or married must never wear jewelery as if we'll somehow use jewels to gain freedom. If that was the case, I would have used them to fight against Father long ago. I sigh and slip it into Cynthia's jewelry box. “Would you like me to do your face paint?”
She hesitates by the door, looking over my clean face. “Yes, but I'd prefer it on the light side.”
Once I'm working on her paint, things feel more natural. Though I've enjoyed having more freedom from it being caked on, the motions are familiar. Comforting. A few minutes after I've finished, a knock sounds.
“Come in,” Cynthia calls.
A tarnished enters. “The Chancellor would like to see Serena in his study.”
I swallow and put the brush down. “Tell him I'll be right there.”
She nods and leaves, closing the door behind her.
My legs wobble as I stand. This is ridiculous. I handled the ceremony, I can handle the punishment for my dress. Why doesn't my body get the message?
Cynthia puts a hand on me. “If he sends you away, will you come and say goodbye first?”
Her hand looks so small on my arm. Fragile. “If I can.”
I leave, not daring to look back for fear of losing control of my emotions. The house is void of servants. Not a sound can be heard, save for my light tread. When I arrive at the study, I pause at the door and raise a hand. My arm shakes. I let it fall to my side. How much worse can he be than Father? All this time without punishment has left me too weak. I wanted to find out how barbaric he is. I can do this.
Without further wavering, I knock.
“Come in.”
With a steadying breath, I turn the doorknob.
Chancellor Zade is working at the desk. “I'm just finishing some business. Shut the door behind you.”
I enter, closing the door behind me. This study is different in every way from Father's. There are two windows instead of one, ending waist high instead of going to the floor. The Envadi's desk is between them. Couches and chairs litter the room. Not a bookshelf in sight, though with a whole book room I doubt he needs more here. I wonder how much of this was Chancellor Jacob's and how much he brought.
I clasp my hands together and use good posture. Nothing of my behavior will give him reason to make the punishment worse. Does he prefer hexes or beatings? I bite my lower lip. How will it compare to Father's punishments?
After pushing his things aside, he rises. “Thank you for waiting. I'm not used to having such duties.” He draws nearer, his muscles evident even beneath his coat. Despite telling myself I wouldn't show fear, I can't help but retreat to the wall. “We'll be seeing more of each other. Might as well get used to it. Would you like some tea?”
A tea set and cakes wait on a table I didn't notice before. Perhaps poison is his mode of punishment. Or he wants to force th
at awful concoction from last night on me. I shake my head. Not if I can help it.
He shrugs, grabs a cake, and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's harder to be scared of him as he brushes crumbs from his face and clothes. After shoving another in his mouth and eating it, he says, “I skipped lunch.”
So, he doesn't like to do his dirty work on an empty stomach. The cake tray is loaded. I hope he wants them all. Maybe then he'll be in a better mood. Or too full to be severe.
Two more cakes are demolished. “You're not a chatty thing are you?”
Is that good or bad? Am I supposed to respond? I settle for shaking my head again.
“Guessed that when you girls never say anything at dinner. I thought a change of setting would help. Come in, sit down.”
I ease to a maroon chair and perch on it. It's harder than I was expecting. Maybe all those years of not being able to sit in Father's study isn't such a loss. He lounges across from me. A crumb remains on the corner of his lips. I concentrate on it.
“Did you get my note this morning?”
I tense. “Yes, Chancellor Zade.”
“Did you do as it said?” He studies me, gaze unyielding.
“I gave it to Phyllis.”
“Would you be willing to let me cast a truth spell on you, and ask you about the incident further?”
No. Please, no. He's a hexer for sure. “Do I have to, Master?”
When he doesn't respond right away, I realize my answer was too brash and brace for punishment. His eyes tighten as he studies my face. Finally, he lounges back. He waves his hand. I flinch and he puts it down.
“There's really no need for one,” he says. “You were telling the truth last night and if your Father gets the message, it's enough.”
Tension eases from me a bit. No punishment then. At least not now.
“Shady business. I'll take care of things though.” He grabs another cake from the tray. “Dinner should be good tonight. Cook's really working hard.”
The room is silent for a few moments. What is he leading to? I bunch my hand into a fist.
“I guess dinner doesn't interest you either.” With a sigh, he stands and gets something from his desk. “Women here are weird creatures.”
“No odder than yourself.” I clamp my jaws shut. Why did I say that?
The Envadi's brows rise. He stalks toward me and raises his arm. I flinch. Here it comes. He lowers his arm. What is he doing?
“I just wanted to give you this.” He raises his hand again, and I realize he's holding a note. It was foolish to recoil. I take it from him. “Councilman Stephen sent it after I asked where your mother was yesterday.”
The note is small in my hand. I open it.
Envadi Zade,
Agatha gave birth to a girl two days ago and was unable to attend.
Councilman Stephen
I read it twice. That's why mother wasn't there. I slouch in my chair. A girl. Another one. The news should be familiar by now, but it still hurts. How is mother doing without me there? Without Cynthia? Is one of my sisters being beaten in my place?
Chancellor Zade kneels next to me so our eyes are level. My heart clenches as I realize the coming threat. “Congratulations on another sister.”
The sting of my sorrow sharpens. Of course I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up that he wouldn't punish me. It's only fitting I'm punished. He's just a different type of punisher than Father. False good wishes over another sister, burning the already painful news. I glare at the note and will the tears rising in my eyes to go away. His hand raises. I duck.
With a grunt, he pulls himself up and goes back to his desk. “That's all.” I hold the note out, but he brushes me away. “I don't need it. You can keep it. Show Cynthia.”
I clutch the note to me as I escape the room. Not only does he want to torture me, but Cynthia as well. The pain grating in my chest intensifies. This subtle form of punishment is worse than being hit or hexed. Much worse.
***
The soup course is served. I watch Cynthia. Her eyes are puffy. She must have cried for some time after I told her the news. Potato soup. I concentrate on not spilling. The Envadi's gaze is on me, but I avoid looking at him. Too much pain there. I didn't think my new Master would be so cruel as to rub in the fact we have another sister.
The courses continue as such. Me peeking at Cynthia. Chancellor Zade peeking at me. Silent. Just like a woman is supposed to be. Except in those moments I can't stop myself from mouthing off.
Finally, dessert is served. A creamy peach treat, though cook has added some strawberries to my plate. At least some good has come of my mouthiness. Someone knows I like strawberries and is going out of their way to give them to me. Bless her kindness, but I don't have an appetite. I dip my fork in, but before I can eat, the Envadi speaks.
“I have a council meeting here tomorrow. You ladies enjoy dinner without me. Best do it in your rooms though. In fact, stay in your rooms all day. Dinner will be brought to you.”
Since we aren't allowed on the second floor at Father's, I've never seen the council room. The Chancellor hasn't given us that restriction. I wonder what room he'll use for the meeting.
Eating dinner in our rooms, that will easily be accomplished. Cynthia grins at me and, though I don't feel any joy, I return it. We haven't had a dinner to ourselves since Chancellor Zade's last council meeting. They're always my favorite nights.
“Would you like me to request anything special from cook?”
I stare at him, but Cynthia says, “Can we have duck?”
How can she answer him so casually?
“No problem. I shot a few this morning, I'm sure cook would be willing to prepare them. How would you like it?”
“It doesn't matter, I love duck. She prepared it once before when you were at a meeting and it was simply delicious.”
“I'll speak with her. What about you, Serena?”
My name on his lips sounds different. “I haven't had enough variety to know.”
“Then we'll have to change that. Did you like the duck, too?”
“It was unusual, but gratifying.”
“I had to bribe her into trying it,” Cynthia says. “You should have seen the look she gave when they brought it out still looking bird-like. I feared she would forget her manners and leave me to dine by myself.”
I glare at her. Why is she telling him this? “I wouldn't leave you to such a fate.”
“You did the time Father ordered the whole boar brought to the table.”
And was hexed for it later. Chancellor Zade's laughter booms through the room.
My cheeks heat. “I was seven. Things are different at that age. I feared he would spring to life and eat me.”
I attempt to mask my embarrassment as his laughter grows and Cynthia joins him. They're absurd. At least I had the excuse of being young, they have nothing. I spear a strawberry.
“I didn't know that was the reason for your running away,” Cynthia says. “How awful. Should we tell cook to be sure and cut the duck before it's brought out?”
Ridiculous. “A duck isn't large enough to eat a grown woman.”
Chancellor Zade nods. “It's true. Ducks don't eat women. If we ever have boar though, I'll be sure they carve it before bringing it out.”
Cynthia giggles.
I jolt to my feet. I won't sit through this if I don't have to. “If you will excuse me, I'm exhausted.”
I escape the room wondering if a hex will shortly follow like Father would have cast, freezing me in place to keep me from running. When nothing happens, I give a sigh of relief and hurry to my room. When did Cynthia decide to consort with the Envadi? Didn't his punishment affect her as much as me?
Chapter Seventeen
Phyllis pours tea for Katherine and me. Though I have obeyed the Envadi's request not to leave my room, Katherine managed to sneak in the servant's entrance. I'm grateful she did, her presence is a welcome relief on a day like this one. Though I hope the fact that Phyllis kn
ows she's here doesn't cause problems.
When Phyllis finishes setting up the tea tray, she hovers close by.
“We have no further need of your services, Phyllis,” I say.
She eyes Katherine. “I don't mind staying.”
“That will be all. You're excused.”
Katherine raises an eyebrow at me. After tisking us, Phyllis exits the room. Katherine opens her mouth to speak. Shaking my head, I raise one finger at her. I wait a moment, then move to the stairway. No one is hovering nearby. I close the door, just in case.
“There. No prying ears.” I place a few biscuits on a plate and pour some tea and hand it to Katherine. “Father's gift is a trifle overzealous.”
“Still having problems with her?” Her voice is strained.
“Under Father's orders, she forced me drink a tea that made me obey others command. Twice.”
With a peek at my empty cup, she says, “That explains you not having any tea.”
“I've sworn it off. My expectation of it is rather dismal.”
She sets her own cup aside and nibbles on a biscuit. “What did it taste like?”
“Dirt. Or what I would expect dirt to taste like.”
“Califrasum root. Nasty stuff. It's supposed to be banned, but Councilman Stephen would have access to it, no doubt.”
“Califrasum? I've never heard of it before.”
“The council keeps it quiet.” She sets her half empty plate down. “Does this mean your engagement ceremony didn't go well?”
“No.” My own treats look rather unappealing. “Your dress was perfect though. It was hard enough, but having to go through it in the traditional dress would have been ghastly. Your design really helped me feel more comfortable.”
“Any trouble over it?”
I shrug. “Nothing unmanageable. I'm still here.”
