by T. N. Hayden
Jerrika stared at Mae, fork hovering between her fingers and lips. She quickly took her bite and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“You seem to enjoy your position now.”
Jerrika tried to make her shrug look detached. Only Kurtis knew she was in love with a common man; no one else could know the truth. “I accept it now.”
“As you should.” Mae snarled. “I still cannot believe you are of high noble blood. You do not deserve it.”
Kurtis stood; his chair smacking the ground as it fell behind him. “You are the one who invited us to sit here.”
“Actually I invited her to sit with us.” Mae responded.
Jerrika put her hand over Kurtis’. “It is alright.” The bizarre day would end, and they would be back to their table in the far corner of the room with Garrik. Life would continue on normally.
“No it is not. I knew it was not wise to sit here.”
“Perhaps you should move.” Mae answered. “Seems like Hairika knows the truth about her place. Too bad you do not.”
“Kurtis is as worthy of the Soldat title as any of us.” Prince Navion stated.
Radley nodded.
Mae sighed. “I see I am being teamed up on again. Good thing it is time for class.” She stood. “Come on Hairika.” She patted Jerrika’s head as she turned to go.
“See you after class.” Kurtis looked at Jerrika and whispered. “Be careful.”
She nodded and followed Rayna, Mae, and Wilma. The boys were all in another classroom.
Jerrika entered class alone and took her usual seat by herself at the table in the back of the room. Her class consisted of fourteen young men and women, the sixteen and seventeen-year-olds. All the girls either followed Rayna or Princess Viveca Perso, all except Jerrika.
Jerrika chewed on her thumbnail as her teacher talked endlessly of politics and nations. Her mind wandered, as it always did in class.
“Jerrika Isabelle Little.”
She straightened and folded her hands on top of the desk. Why did all the teachers know her middle name?
“What is happening to your hair?” The teacher demanded.
“What?” Jerrika brought her hands to her head, gasping as long strands of thin brown hair seemed to fall from her scalp. She continued to grasp at the pieces as they dove to the ground, leaving her head cold and barren.
Every eye in the classroom stung. Her throat closed, and tears threatened to flow free from her brown and yellow eyes. She wished she could disappear or fall through the floorboards.
Jerrika turned, remembering Mae patting her head. Mae sat next to Rayna, hanging onto her desk as she shook with laughter. The sound made Jerrika nauseated as she looked at her sister.
“Look at Hairika!” Mae gasped between laughs. “Perhaps this will make her less of a beast.”
Rayna stared back, mouth straight, eyes hard as she watched her sister go bald. Rayna would never be nice to her sister, and Jerrika knew she deserved her sister’s contempt.
~ Chapter 2 ~
Jerrika looked at herself in the mirror at the nurse’s station. Her eyes were ringed in red, raw and, now, dry. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bald head of the girl who stared back at her. Never again would she allow Mae to torment her. Never again would she believe Rayna would want to be friends with her. Never again would she trust any of those girls.
“You will need to massage this into your scalp for the next three weeks.” The nurse handed her a bottle of Eritema ointment.
“Thank you.” Jerrika was also grateful for the nurse allowing her to stay in her office for the rest of class. She wasn’t ready to face the world, face the girls who had done this to her. The humiliation stung more than the ointment as the nurse applied the first coat.
“You will also want to keep your head covered.” The nurse continued as she massaged the sticky lotion into her bare scalp. “I suggest you get silk headscarves for yourself. I might have one in here. You will want to get more as well. Turn it into a decoration, some kind of way to show the girls that this will not bring you down.”
Jerrika looked at the nurse through the mirror. “You want me to lie to them?”
The nurse chuckled. “Perhaps not lie, but pretend. Make them think they did not break you.”
But Jerrika had been broken dozens of times in her life. Her mother had beaten her, scarring her, bruising, and bashing her many times over. Jerrika knew she was worthless, something not even common folk would ever value.
“You have been in my care more than a few times.” The nurse continued. “You never tell me who does these cruel things, but I know it must be one or more of the girls.” She washed her hands in a basin before going to one of her drawers. “You are stronger than you know Jerrika.” She pulled out a brown silk scarf with yellow and blue beads sewn into the lines of the sides. The nurse wrapped Jerrika’s head with it and tied it off. “You are truly the daughter of Viktor Little. Never forget that.”
“Thank you.” Jerrika couldn’t tell this woman the truth. It didn’t matter if she was strong or the daughter of a Soldat. She was also the daughter of the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, and she would never bring her mother an ounce of pride.
“Now you need to get along to town.” The nurse put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand you have an important job.”
Important. Jerrika almost scoffed, but she smiled. “Yes.” As she left, her heart froze. What would Barrett and Aileen say when they saw her? Their opinion was the only which truly mattered to her.
She rushed through the halls, desperate to avoid lingering eyes and glaring jabs of gossip.
“Oh Mensel.” She recognized Kurtis’ voice.
Jerrika paused a step and turned.
He rushed to her. “What happened?”
“You have not heard yet?” Jerrika pursed her lips. “I figured it would have circled the castle at least twice by now.”
“Where is your hair?”
“Mae did something to it.” Jerrika whispered. “We are never going to make the mistake of trusting any of them ever again.”
Kurtis embraced her. “I am so sorry.”
Aileen Quint walked through the market of Derbon. Two day’s ride from home, she enjoyed the anonymity here.
She and Barrett had moved to Derbon four years before, Aileen taking up her own Smithy with her brother as her apprentice. She waited eagerly for the day Jonathan would return and find her.
A hand knocked her water bucket, spilling its contents and drenching Aileen.
Aileen glared at the finely dressed nobles. She hated almost every noble she’d met, ever since the night her sister had been kidnapped.
One of the nobles shook her red silk sleeves. “How dare you cusca? Look what you did to my tunic. With this humidity, my tunic will never dry.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Aileen longed to show this young woman that not all commoners were defenseless, but it was against the law to fight. Aileen kept her abilities a secret.
The young woman’s hazel-green eyes flashed in anger. “Excuse me?”
Aileen met her eyes. She imagined grabbing her dagger from its hidden place under her woolen apron.
“Do you not know who I am?” The young woman’s tone should have sent chills down Aileen’s arms.
“No.” Aileen answered. “But I’ll guess you’re a Soldata trainee. So you’re a high noble or noble?”
“You are talking to Princess Viveca Perso.” Her bright red-haired follower whispered.
Though she wasn’t afraid of the princess, Aileen knew what a mistake it would be to draw attention to such a noble. Now she had to put on a show. Aileen lowered her eyes and dropped to a knee. “Forgive my ignorance, Your Highness.” She gritted her teeth, silently praying for the day she could reveal her true skills.
The princess snorted and turned to her friends. “This cusca is ignorant and needs to be taught a precious lesson.” She unexpectedly kicked a chunk of dirt in Aileen’s face.
; Aileen coughed and wheezed, trying to brush her face free from the soil now entering her mouth, nose, and eyes.
The princess grabbed the off-white cloth which covered Aileen’s hair and made Aileen look her in the eye. “You and your kind are filth. Next time it does not matter who the Soldata or Soldat is, you should treat your betters with respect and groveling.”
Aileen bit her tongue. If she responded, everything would be lost. She had to control her reactions, her anger.
“Now kiss my boot.” The princess shoved her filthy boot in Aileen’s face.
Aileen didn’t want to know what was on the princess’ footwear. She imagined gutting the young woman as her lips quickly pressed against the leather and grime.
The princess laughed as she turned to her friends. “Come on. We will leave this cusca where she belongs.”
As Aileen got to her feet, the princess’ black-haired friend jabbed Aileen just under her rib, and the red-haired friend shoved her down in the dirt.
Aileen struggled to get her breath back as the Soldata trainees laughed and walked away. Closing her eyes, Aileen tried to ignore the other commoners who had just watched the exchange between her and the high nobles. She pressed a hand to her aching side and got to her feet once more.
Jerrika bit her lip as she rushed onto the cobblestone path toward the market of Derbon. She loved the market. In the training castle, everyone looked down on her: the ugly daughter of Duke Viktor and Duchess Ederra, the sore sight amidst four attractive young men and the most striking young woman in the kingdom.
But here in the market, she was Jerrika Little, Soldata trainee, and nothing more.
After she’d been forced to become the “Official Soldat Weapons Retainer,” Jerrika had been irritated. She had bashed her way into the Smithy, ready to meet “A. Quint.” She’d pictured a large, dirty man with muscled shoulders and forearms.
Now Jerrika pushed the door of the Quints’ Smithy open.
Aileen looked up. Her hair was twisted in off-white head wraps. Smudges of grime and dirt accented her cheeks, and her deep-blue eyes widened. Her mouth dropped. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“I will be fine.” Jerrika felt the pit of her stomach threatening to tug. “I do not want to talk about it.” She leaned against the top of the main counter. “Where is Barrett?”
“Working.” Aileen replied. “Same as always.” She nodded toward the backroom of the store. “He’ll want more of an answer from you than you gave me.”
Jerrika sighed. “I know.” She walked around the counter and into the back.
It was much warmer. Barrett wiped sweat off his brow, golden-blonde hair sticking up and out. He pounded a mallet against the steel blade he was shaping.
Jerrika crossed her arms and leaned against the door as she watched. She enjoyed the tightening and loosening of his muscles against his cotton shirt and suspenders, the glint of perspiration coming from his temples, the gleam of his tan, his crystal-blue eyes met hers.
Jerrika blushed and grinned.
He dropped the mallet and heated steel, hissing in pain as it scorched his arm.
“Oh Barrett.” She rushed to him. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” He repeated. “Are you okay? What did they do to you this time? Why are you covering your head like a common girl?”
Jerrika frowned. “Rayna’s friend put something in my hair, and it caused me to go bald. At least my hair will grow back.” She paused. “With time.”
Barrett grabbed the heated steel and dunked it into a tub of water. The hiss always made her jump slightly as the steam rose from the tub. He left the sword there and went to her, pulling leather gloves from his hands.
“It does not matter.” Jerrika whispered, trying to hold back tears. She thought she’d cried them all out. “It will grow back.”
“Of course it matters.” Barrett’s voice was soft as he touched the silk. He pulled her to him, embracing her as she bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. What can I do to make you feel better, Lady Little?”
Jerrika rolled her eyes. She hated when he used her mother’s name. “I am here for the new shipment of arrows. We get so many weapons from you here.”
“I wish we could help create the Woplers.”
“You have said that many times. I know I am the Official Soldat Weapons Retainer, but I have nothing to do with the Woplers.”
Barrett touched the scarf, tucking an edge behind her left ear. “Well, let me see what I can do to help you with the arrows.”
“I hope it takes a while.” Jerrika grabbed his suspenders.
“It usually does.” He trapped her against the wall. “Hopefully this takes your mind off your troubles.”
Aileen poked her head in. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Barrett sighed, pulling away. Jerrika’s blush spread, and she was sure she now looked like a juicy pomegranate.
Aileen grabbed Jerrika’s arm, pulled her back into the main area of the store, and glared at her brother as she turned. “I’ll talk with you later.”
“Yes Mum.” Barrett’s tone dripped sarcasm.
Aileen slammed the separating door with her foot. “We need to talk Jer.”
“Yes?”
“Have you told your parents about my brother?”
“Well, not technically…”
Aileen crossed her arms. “My brother’s had his heart broken before. I know you’re high noble. I know you’re training as a Soldata. I know your father is Duke Viktor Little, and I know he can shut this place down. But I will not stand and let this flirtation continue without the commitment.”
“I commit.” Jerrika cried.
“If you commit, then you must tell your family who you’re committed to.”
She would love to. There was nothing Jerrika wanted to do more. But she knew her family. Her father would insist on a match with a Soldat, a warrior. Her mother would insist on a match with a high noble, never a commoner. Her brothers wouldn’t care, and Rayna would say that only a commoner would want to marry her. Aileen didn’t understand any of it.
“I cannot tell them.”
“When do you plan on telling them?” Aileen slammed the package of arrows on the counter. “When you get your Wopler? When you and Barrett marry? When you get pregnant? Tell me Jer, when do you plan on telling your parents about Barrett?”
Jerrika sighed. “I do not know.”
Aileen turned her toward the door and walked her to it. “Well you’d better decide soon if you want to continue this secret relationship with my brother.” Aileen sighed and stopped. “I like you Jer; I really do. But we’ve all been unbearably crushed by nobles.”
“I do not want to hurt him Aileen.”
“Then don’t. See you next time Official Soldat Weapons Retainer.” Aileen shut the door in Jerrika’s face.
Jerrika stared. After several heartbeats, her feet moved, taking her to the side of the Smithy. She looked through the window as Aileen and Barrett spoke. Rather, they looked like they were yelling at each other.
Barrett crashed out the back door. “Jer.”
She waited. He rushed to her and took her face in his hands.
“I know you.” His crystal-blue eyes bore into hers. “I know you’re not like the one who hurt me. I love you so much Jer.”
Her heart picked up a pace. “I love you too Barrett.”
He pulled a necklace of black pearls from his pocket. “My father gave my mother this necklace when he realized they were meant to be together. I know we have everything against us. My sister doesn’t trust nobles. Your family would never allow you to be with me. But we belong together. You’re a warrior; I’m a blacksmith. I know we belong together.”
“Oh Barrett.” She allowed him to slip the necklace over her head. “We definitely do.”
~ Chapter 3 ~
Rayna Little pulled her golden blonde hair back into a braid, coiling it around her head as she did. She smiled at herself as she finished her hair. It was straigh
t and easy to work into whatever creation she desired it to be in. Rayna turned, smoothing her purple chiffon gown, hands sliding against her brown woven belt.
“You look so beautiful.” Mae squealed. Her bright red hair was a mess.
Rayna chuckled. “Thank you. Sit here, and I will braid.”
“Perfect.” Mae took the seat as Rayna moved.
Rayna smoothed the emerald and royal blue feathers on the neckline of Mae’s rosewood silk gown. She took Mae’s thick red locks and began separating sections to braid.
“Do you want to get ready with us?” Wilma looked across the room to Jerrika.
“I do not need help from any of you.” Jerrika turned her back to them, looking in her own mirror as she tied a copper silk headscarf around her bald head. Rayna liked the yellow feathers embroidered on the scarf, but she could never tell her sister that. Jerrika had to hate her.
Mae chuckled. “I think you look so much better now Hairika.” Her smile was wicked. “You are welco-ow.”
“Sorry.” Rayna lied. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to pull her friend’s hair that hard, but Mae deserved worse.
Wilma bit back a grin as she caught Rayna’s eyes.
“That is such a pretty color on you.” Mae looked at Wilma through the mirror. “That gown is the exact same color as your eyes.”
Wilma nodded as she smoothed her satin cobalt-blue skirt. Her gown, like Rayna’s, didn’t have feather accents. Their masks did instead.
Mensel Festival was the celebration of the god of life. All colors were acceptable, and feathers were the chosen decoration for outfits. Masks were worn by everyone who wasn’t married, and bonfires were lit with dancing and feasting. It was Rayna’s second favorite holiday. She finished braiding Mae’s fiery locks.
“You are wearing those earrings again?” Mae gasped as she finally noticed Rayna’s accessories.
“They are my favorite.” Rayna touched the sapphire drops in her lobes.
“I think they are beautiful.” Wilma smiled.
“You would.” Mae tied her rosewood mask on as she moved toward the door. “I think we are ready girls.”