by Bree Aguiar
“My love,” Aimee exclaimed. “Where’ve you been? And why aren’t you drinking?”
Gwenyre had to laugh when she asked the girls why they had been.
“Oh, nobody cares about us lowly servants during the Turning. They’re all too busy sloshing back their own drinks. Even Nora is drunk, look!” Ametrine pointed towards the half-troll, who was sitting by a table and sneaking the appetizers set out for the guests. She looked unbalanced, swaying every so often. Gwenyre couldn’t believe Ametrine was right, but she saw it right before her eyes: the woman was sloshed. Gwenyre laughed so hard, she snorted. That made even Wind laugh, and Ametrine took the nymph’s mood turn for an excuse to make them all dance together.
“Isn’t someone going to notice?” Gwenyre asked, trying to catch her breath after a few songs played by a lovely fairy with his wooden flute. Ametrine shrugged it off, telling her nobody really cared during the Turning.
“Trust me, I’ve been here for three Festivals and the guests get too drunk at their dinner to even notice us. As long as we leave before their real party begins, it’s no harm no foul.” Gwenyre laughed again and agreed to have one drink before they had to head to the Mess Hall. Ametrine excitedly ran off to grab it, leaving the elf alone with Wind.
The two sat in silence for a bit, waiting for the other girl to return, when Gwenyre decided to speak up. “Are you alright, Wind?” She didn’t like the girl’s sudden turn against her and wasn’t sure why it had happened. Was she jealous of her and Ametrine’s quick friendship? They’d all been friends for months now, with little issue, so she couldn’t imagine that was it.
Wyndemere looked at her, her eyes small with disdain. “I don’t like the way you acted yesterday. Making Aimee cry like that. I’ve never seen her cry, not once. She didn’t deserve that.”
Gwenyre instantly felt her stomach sink. She’d forgotten all about the things she said to Ametrine when she was raging about her unfair treatment. She’d also assumed Ametrine had forgotten as well, or at least forgiven her since she hadn’t brought it up. But Wyndemere, who mothered the girl, had not. Gwenyre couldn’t get mad at Wind for wanting to protect Aimee; the girl was innocent and had such a big heart. And Gwen had stomped on it. She knew her quick temper was dangerous, but she didn’t think it would ever hurt her friends.
“I am so sorry Wind, truly. I didn’t mean what I said. You and Ametrine don’t deserve that. At all.” Wind nodded at her with pursed lips, but Gwenyre could tell that the nymph did appreciate the apology.
“Just don’t let it happen again,” she said. “I like you a lot, Gwenyre and I consider you a friend. But Ametrine has been there for me for a long time, and I won’t stand for it.” Gwen agreed, knowing she meant all the best. Finally letting her guard down, Wind smiled and thanked her for understanding. They were hugging when Ametrine returned, arms laden with spilling drinks.
“Aw,” she whined. “Why wasn’t I invited to the love fest?” Laughing, the two girls pulled her in. They swayed to the music for a bit before parting, and Ametrine handed Gwenyre her drink. “I’m not sure what it is, but Cyran made it.” She gestured to the old elf, who smiled back at them from his group of friends, raising a glass. Gwenyre raised hers in return, starting to take a sip.
Before she could, however, a little man in a felt cap rushed to their group: Edyweine. “Please,” he begged, out of breath from running. “My mistress… she needs her tea. Someone please help!” He looked around to the group of girls who were gawking at him. Noticing Gwenyre was there, he rolled his eyes and looked to the others. “Can someone please bring her a cup? She needs it desperately, but I don’t know where the Miz of the House keeps it.”
Wyndemere and Ametrine continued to gawk at him, too drunk to comprehend. Realizing the extent of their inebriation, he turned around to find someone else before noticing that everyone appeared to be in a similar state. He sighed, panic filling his eyes. Gwenyre handed her untouched drink to Ametrine and began to walk back to the House.
“Come on,” she said, calling for him to follow. Which he did against his better judgement. “I’m not drunk,” she explained. “But everyone else is. Miz Norethebo showed me where they kept the personal refreshments and medicines for the guests a few weeks ago, I’ll show you.” She led him to the House, and they entered the kitchens together.
She found the little pantry quickly and shuffled through it to find the tea leaves. They were right in the front, in plain view, and she grabbed them for him. When she tried to hand them over, he stared at her without taking them. “Well?” she prompted, trying to push them to him. “Aren’t you going to take them?”
He gawked at her, and she had to try her hardest not to punch him in the face. “What do you expect me to do?” he asked with scorn. “Make it myself?” Rolling her eyes, she took the leaves over to a kettle and began to boil it for him.
“It’s really not that hard,” she explained as she grabbed a tea tray and began to set it up.
“That’s not the point,” he whined, crossing his arms and looking haughtier than ever. “You people are supposed to serve her when she’s here. I have other duties.”
She bit her tongue to keep from berating him as the kettle whistled. After pouring it in the pot, she thrust the tray to the elf. He shook his head at her. “You can deliver it,” he ordered with a sniff, as if the pure act of it was beneath him. Not wanting to argue and wanting to get back to the party before dinner, she hurried the tray upstairs to Lenora’s room with Edyweine following close behind.
When they arrived, Edyweine pointed to the door to get her to knock. She obliged, balancing the tea tray as best as she could, when Lenora’s voice rang out from within. “You may enter,” it called out in a sing-song voice. Though it sounded relaxed and happy, Gwenyre couldn’t help but notice that the troll’s usual booming voice sounded much weaker than the last time she’d spoken with her. Ignoring that, Gwenyre pushed the door open and slowly entered the room with Edyweine on her tail.
“I’ve gotten one of the servants to get your tea mistress,” he said with his nose in the air, as if proud of this accomplishment. The large troll woman lay prostrate in bed, wearing what appeared to be a night shift under the fine sheets that Gwenyre had laid out only hours before. Gwen noticed that the troll looked pale and much smaller than before, as if she had lost weight. The girl walked the tray over to the women, setting it on the nightstand to help her sit up before she served it. “That is my job,” Edyweine cried out, rushing over. Gwenyre stepped back to let the elven page do the work of sitting her up and getting her comfortable before he gestured at Gwen to serve the tea. Rolling her eyes at the show he was making of it all, Gwen slowly walked over to serve the troll.
“Oh hello, dearie,” Lenora greeted her in a kind voice. “I thought I recognized you. Gwenyre, right?”
Gwenyre nodded with a smile; she didn’t think the troll would’ve remembered her. She was kind on her first day here, but since then they had not shared another word. The elf assumed she just forgot who she was, which was not a problem. There were other worries than one of the nobles recalling her name. Still, it was nice that she’d remembered.
“And how have you been? Have they been treating you well?” From her concerned look and the kind smile in her eyes, Gwenyre could tell that Lenora wasn’t just asking to be polite. She seemed to genuinely care, as if just treatment of the servants was important to her. This again surprised the elf, but she tried not to let it show as she answered the troll with half-truths.
“I’ve been well. Everyone here is very kind, ma’am.” Bowing low, Gwenyre stepped back to let the troll drink the tea.
“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” the troll said with a knowing smile on her face. “Who’s been the worst of the bunch? Tell me, and I’ll have their head!” She said it in jest, but Gwenyre didn’t doubt that the woman held the power to do just that. She was tempted to end her troubles with Sylvan right there, but she was too proud to spill her worries to a t
roll she barely knew. Plus, she wanted to take him down herself. She wasn’t sure how she could, but that desire motivated her to continue learning practicing her magic. So instead of telling her, Gwenyre just smiled and reconfirmed that everything was going well.
“You better not be lying, girlie!” The troll laughed at herself, which ended in a bout of rough coughs. “I’m sorry,” she said when her hacking was over. “I’ve been under the weather lately. This tea here is supposed to help, but it’s making me feel worse. I guess I won’t be attending the festivities tonight.”
“Great idea, mistress,” Edyweine piped up from behind her, adjusting her pillows. The troll batted him off with a slight eye roll aimed at Gwenyre.
“Please, Edyweine,” she scolded gently. “You fuss too much. Why don’t you join the other handmaids and pages downstairs and enjoy your night? You’re too young to be worried over an old lady like me.” Edyweine seemed scandalized by the idea of leaving her, until she made it an order. “Do not return to your room until you are good and drunk,” she commanded as he glumly walked out, leaving Gwenyre alone with the troll.
Gwen stood there quietly, waiting for the troll to finish the tea so she could get back downstairs. Lenora, however, was not having that. “Sit, sit!” she commanded the girl, patting the side of her bed. “Tell me, are the servants having their usual raucous affair?” The troll’s eyes glittered with the memory of the activities that occurred at Turning Festivals long passed. Gwenyre laughed before telling her of it all: the drinking, the dancing, and the couples ducking out together thinking nobody else saw. The stories made Lenora burst out, her laughter rich and deep, much stronger than her voice had become.
“And tell me, girl, has Ametrine been helping you settle in as she promised?”
Gwenyre smiled at the mention of her friend’s name and Lenora’s amazing memory. “Of course,” she assured her. “She has become one of my closest companions. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Lenora patted the girl’s arm when she said that. “Ametrine is very kind. A bit bumbling, but very kind. One of the sweetest beings I know. And if she likes you, that means you must be kind too.”
Thinking of her outburst at the girl yesterday, Gwenyre’s face blushed in shame. “Not like her,” she argued quietly. “Not at all. But I’m learning.”
“That’s all that matters,” Lenora assured her. “But that’s enough talk of your friend. Since I can’t join the festivities tonight, I need to be entertained. Which means, I need gossip. And servant gossip is always much more intriguing than that of the high class. I truly could care less about who skipped whose party, or what dresses my friends are wearing. I want the juicy stuff.” Gwenyre laughed at the woman’s question but told her she didn’t have much.
“Everything here is surprisingly boring,” she explained.
“Now that can’t be true!” Lenora exclaimed, scandalized by the thought of a dull day. “You must have something to share. Even about yourself. Tell me, has anyone interesting caught your eye? Any snogging behind the kitchens? I once caught a horde of fairies cornering a poor human on his first week here. All he wanted was to find the washroom, and they started fighting over who called dibs! It was fabulous.” Lenora chuckled at the memory while Gwenyre’s face turned bright red. As soon as Lenora mentioned snogging, the girl instantly pictured Sampson. She couldn’t wait to see him later but was embarrassed by her own feelings.
“I know that look,” Lenora said. “Tell me all about them, or else I’ll have to call Edyweine back and he’ll just bore me to sleep.”
Gwenyre laughed, knowing that was actually a possibility. But she denied everything, keeping her secrets. Lenora harrumphed at that, though with a good-natured manner. “I can smell the lies from a mile away. Why would you want to make a sick, old lady suffer any more than she already is? I’d love to hear it. You don’t even have to tell me names. Just the more interesting details.” The troll waggled her eyebrows at the suggestion. Gwen, laughing, decided to oblige with very few details.
“Well, there is a boy…”
“Oh, I like how this is sounding! Go on!”
Gwenyre told her about Sampson, without mentioning his name or the fact that he was a Lord. She actually implied he was another servant, without outright lying about it. The troll seemed to be able to detect her lies easily (though that was probably just because Gwenyre was an awful liar), so she decided to stick with the general truth. She told her about their first meeting, though she didn’t mention it was in the House, and how he had initially scared her. And then comforted her with his stories. She told her about the meeting in the Clearing, though again not mentioning the real purpose behind it, and their first kiss. And she told him about their fight, their making up, and their plans to meet tonight.
Lenora listened intently, asking questions while oohing and aahing at all the right points. “He sounds like a dream,” she said when the story was over.
“He is,” Gwenyre admitted. She hated admitting it out loud, even just to Lenora. Mostly because she hated the way he could easily affect her. But there was no denying it. She had to face the truth: she was quickly falling for him, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Lenora said he reminded her of her husband when they first met. “That was years ago, mind you. I was a pretty little thing back then, and I played him like a fiddle. The thing with men is you have to let them chase you or else they’ll lose interest.” Lenora began to explain the chase she’d forced her poor future husband into, which turned out to be quite the story. Gwenyre couldn’t believe the things she learned about the woman’s past; it was equally scandalous and fabulous. The troll’s desire for gossip was clear; she wanted to relive her own enticing past vicariously through others’ stories. Gwenyre felt a deep admiration for the woman as their talk continued well into the night.
After a bit, Edyweine returned to the room against his mistress’s earlier request. “You’ll need dinner,” he explained to the troll when she protested. “I’ll have the servant bring up a tray.” It was clear that he meant Gwenyre, and he gestured her to the door to get her moving. Lenora reached out to hold the girl’s forearm before she could get up.
“Why don’t you bring us both something to eat?” the troll requested. “Gwenyre here is keeping me company. Just something light. She’ll take her dinner with me.” She looked towards the elf for approval, and Gwenyre nodded with a smirk on her face. She knew Edyweine would be angry, but this was the perfect payback for this morning. He pursed his lips, trying hard not to roll his eyes in anger before agreeing sullenly. “Don’t forget the dessert!” she cried out as Edyweine departed. She turned to Gwen, laughter filling her eyes.
“I just love teasing him. He has a face for that, don’t you agree?”
“Yes!” Gwenyre exclaimed. “I was just saying that to myself this morning! I think it’s the nose.”
Lenora laughed heartily at that. “It always appears to be higher than the rest of his face. I wonder why that is.” The two women continued their laughter at Edyweine’s expense. They were still talking as he returned and dropped off a tray filled with delicious foods and plenty of desserts. Gwenyre’s mouth watered when she saw it; she had not eaten so rich since before her arrival in Newbridge. Lenora encouraged the elf to eat as they continued their conversation.
Gwenyre learned much about the troll and told a lot about herself as well. They bonded over their lives which, though much different, had similar elements. They both loved horses, though Lenora said she hadn’t been able to ride one since she hit puberty. They both were home schooled. And they both had awful tempers. “The trouble I would get into because of my attitude,” Lenora reminisced. “Thankfully, I’ve learned to control it. You will too, don’t you worry. But be as passionate as you want right now, when you are young.”
Gwenyre agreed to that as she learned about the various hot water the troll’s own temper had gotten her into. They continued talking well into the night, the n
oises of the party outside ebbing and flowing as they laughed and laughed. It started getting very late when Gwenyre yawned, exhausted from the long day.
“Oh dear,” Lenora sympathized. “I’ve kept you for far too long. It’s almost half-past midnight. You’d better head to bed.”
“Half-past midnight?!” Gwenyre blanched. Sampson was waiting for her. “Lady Lenora, I am so sorry, but I have to go!” She started gathering up the tea tray when the troll waved her off.
“Don’t worry about it, girl. I just remembered you have a very special meeting tonight. You’d better hurry, before the lad gives up on you. I’m sorry for keeping you.”
Gwenyre told her not to be sorry; she’d appreciated the night more than she thought she would. She thanked Lenora for everything and ran out of the House as quickly as she could, making her way to the Garden.
* * *
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”
Gwenyre arrived at the Garden out of breath. Sampson was waiting behind one of the trees that had not been lit by the fairy lights. Though it was dark, she could see the agitation on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I got caught up.”
“Your work ended hours ago.” Though the statement was not angry, his voice held a mix of boredom and bitterness. As if he didn’t want to be bothered by it, but couldn’t help himself.
“I know, but I was helping a guest.”
“All the guests are out here. Drunk and in no need of your assistance.” He was becoming accusatory, though he tried to maintain an uninterested façade. But she wouldn’t have it. It was not her place to tell him about Lenora feeling sick, nor was it his place to question her. She reminded him of this, not taking the pains to hide her annoyance like he was.