by Raven Bouray
“My Lady. As if you should accuse one of us of such a thing. But if one were to have ventured down the the dungeon, they may have passed along some gossip. There has been talk that this prisoner who may or may not be an elf is quite handsome except for this terrible scar on his face. And he has the most amazing eyes. Such a dark green.”
“Green, you say?” She remembered green eyes before she collapsed. Emmaline felt hands in her hair and relaxed against the tub as fingers and nails worked firmly against her scalp.
“And he speaks with an accent as well. He sounds rather angry, they say.”
“What else do they say?”
“Not much. Just that he’s an elf. And he is looking for someone. He stayed at the inn last night and he was asking questions, all hooded and cloaked. If he was trying to be discreet, he did a poor job of it.”
“So he was here yesterday?”
“That’s what they say, my lady.” Ryna lifted her hands from Emmaline’s scalp and once more she submerged her red and gold hair beneath the water and came up after a few moments. She wiped her eyes with an offered cloth and put it back on the floor before settling back onto the side of the bath. Ryna once more started to massage her mistress’s scalp with the special cream. “It’s so odd that he’s not been found before now. Not many places let you keep a hood on anymore.”
“The new Truth Seekers are a pain about that,” Emmaline agreed. The new sect that had sprung up within the last five years had grown quite powerful and followed the teachings of Sapenta, the goddess of knowledge, truth, and wisdom. They walked around in golden armor and strong armed people into doing what they wanted, until grandfather got tired of them and would give them a firm wrist slap until they did it again.
“Good thing they haven’t come here.”
“Father wouldn’t tolerate them. He doesn’t take kindly to bullies.” Emmaline leaned forward after a gentle nudge from Ryna and felt a soft cloth rub her back that smelled of fruit.
“Your family has been so kind to everyone here. I am very grateful to them for giving me work.”
“Has your ciphering been going well?” Emmaline inquired, knowing that her maid was learning in the hopes of becoming more than just a servant.
“Well enough. I have much to do and not enough time to study. But as my mama tells me, I am still young and I have plenty of time to learn things.”
“How old are you?” Emmaline was now aware of the fact that she had never asked about her age, as she had come to work as her maid a mere two years ago.
“Sixteen, my Lady. I hope to be promised to marry soon as well.”
“I as well,” Emmaline sighed and lifted a hand for the washcloth so she could finish up her bath. Tonight everything would change for better or worse.
Chapter 8
They had spent at least two hours on her hair, face paint, and skin. She had been massaged and coated and plucked, and when she looked in the mirror, it was as if a stranger gazed back. If not for the eyes blinking back at her, it would be.
As it was, her hair was curled, pinned, twisted, and held with sheer will atop her head. Twin curls framed her slightly rounded face, and the rest was artfully fashioned near the top of her head in a style that she could not begin to name. Her face looked paler with the powder they applied, which made her eyes look larger now that they were traced with dark kohl. And finally, her cheeks were blushing with a pretty pink color.
The dress she wore fit perfectly and gave the illusion of curves where she had none. Even the bodice was artfully fashioned to give her what she did not currently own. It was a conservative cut and the collar ended at her collarbone instead of lower. The sleeves were pinned at the top with buttons of the royal crest and again halfway down the arm and at her wrist. The rest hung along her side and when she lifted her arm, it made her look as if she had wings attached. It was her favorite part of the dress, aside from the color.
Purple, with golden threads and trim, made her eyes even darker than usual and the gold made her shimmer as she walked and twirled. The sleeves were of a lighter shade, more of a lilac than royal, and the sash at her waist was also gold, along with the corset ties at the back.
Her mother knew what she liked in clothing, even if it was a dress instead of a shirt and trousers. At this moment, she looked to the right in the mirror and saw the woman in question holding back tears and blotting her eyes nearly every few seconds. “Oh, my dear. You look positively radiant. Like a Queen. You always look beautiful though, but today… Oh.” She spoke quickly and excitedly, “But today you are a woman. Today is your first real dance. And you will make everyone’s head turn tonight. Whomever you choose will be the most blessed man in the kingdom.” Emmaline had to brace for a moment as her mother nearly rushed to pull her into a hug. Mindful of her hair and makeup, her mother held her tightly. “Happy birthday, my sweet girl. You have always brought your father and I such joy. Every day.”
Emmaline returned the embrace. “I love you too, mama.” And she did, so very much despite the fact that they different on so many things. She held her mother tighter to her while a feeling of warmth bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her belly. It flowed through her limbs into her fingers where they rested on her mother’s back and that warmth seemed to sink into her mother, who gave a slight shiver as if she felt it as well.
“Good. Well. We mustn't keep them waiting.” Her mother released her gently and with a smile and a deep breath, began to walk to the door. “Your father will meet us in the hall just before we go in.”
Emmaline hadn’t seen her father since the day before. He had been busy with the other Lords and according to Ryna, he had not been in the best of moods. “Yes, mama.”
“Chin up. You are Emmaline D’Terin, and tonight is yours.”
They walked nearly abreast down the hall, down the stairs, and through the corridors lined with tapestries. Emmaline spotted her favorite on their trek, and it was enough to give her a boost of courage. The sound of music and the chatter of people grew louder the closer they came to the main hall. They rounded a corner, and her father came into view with his back to them.
“Gregor, love.” Her mother spoke softly, and he turned around quickly and nearly stumbled in doing so.
Emmaline stifled a laugh as he looked much like a wide eyed rabbit in torchlight, looking first at her mother and then turning his gaze to her, he smiled widely. “My beauties. Here at last.” He strode over to them and pulled her mother to him before planting a quick kiss on her lips. “You look beautiful, as always, my dear Malina.” He released her gently and turned to Emmaline. “And you, my little Dove, are splendid as well. On one hand, I don’t want to let you in there. Those boys in there are going to make my jaw ache from keeping from shouting at each of them.” He paused and his gaze softened, “Never forget that you will always be five years old and running through the castle in a game of hide and seek to me, and I will always find you no matter what.”
“I know. So, do you think that perhaps we can skip this entire ordeal and play hide and seek instead?”
“I think your mother would kill us both if we did that after all the work she’s put in for this.”
“I guess so.” She sighed and smiled at her mother, who sported a soft glare at the both of them.
“In. Before I have to find a stick to prod you in with.”
“Fine. Fine.” Her father chuckled and offered mother his arm which she took, then offered the other to Emmaline and she encircled it. Both women were practically dwarfed by his height and muscle, and he nodded to the guards, who pushed the door open. The light, sound, and smells poured from the opened portal and brought them into another world.
And with the opening of the doors, the conversations came to an abrupt halt as heads turned to stare at the newcomers. Emmaline fought the urge to avert her eyes and melt into the background as she walked arm in arm with her father into the brightly lit room while the crowd parted for them. They walked the length of the hall slowly and c
ame to a stop at the head of the room in front of their three chairs. He dropped his arms slowly, and they all turned as a unit to face the crowd.
The room itself was decently sized, or at least large enough for several families of nobles to sit and dance without suffocating one another. Emmaline surveyed the faces, both familiar and not, and spotted the looks of awe from servant, soldier, and noble alike. And she had every right to stand a little taller as her father began to speak.
“Friends, we gather here on this near evening to celebrate the birth of my first and only child, Emmaline. Tonight will be a special eve for not only this reason, but also to choose a suitor from the four young men who seek to win her hand. This will not be as easy a task as you think. Although I am loathe to let her go with anyone, this is a right of passage as old as humanity itself. It will be time to prove your worth soon enough, and I know you have traveled some distance, but we must do as tradition dictates and seek the blessing of Muliera on this day.”
Just as she did every year, Emmaline curtsied to the room of people and off to her right, Ryna stood holding the small but sharp blade as well as the customary offering of a sapphire and a hyacinth and passed them to Emmaline. Muliera was the female goddess, responsible for birth, life, childhood, fertility and motherhood, and each year on the day of one’s birth, it was customary to offer a prayer to the goddess’s shrine. She stepped down the stairs lightly while holding her offerings, and the crowd parted once more as she made her way to the wall that housed the Six’s shrines. Muliera’s shrine was that of a woman holding a basket of flowers and a child at the hip and the offering bowl at the base. To the right and left were Sapenta’s and Arato’s shrines, but she paid them no mind today. With careful motions, she placed the flower and sapphire into the offering bowl and brought the sharp knife to bear. She used her right hand to slice a careful cut into her fourth finger which pinched and she bit back a gasp. Bright red blood welled at once in the cut and dripped directly into the bowl, staining the sapphire and stem of the flower. “Bless me, Muliera, on the day of my birth in which you have given me life. Bless me to give life and bless me with many more years.” She bowed her head and the entire room filled with sound, “Blessed be, Muliera.”
Emmaline lifted her head and turned from the shrine wall and made her way back across the room to stand next to her father as both her parents beamed at her with pride.
“And now, would the four young men who will be attempting to charm my daughter into marrying them step forward and make yourselves known to all who have come?”
Emmaline surveyed the crowd, finding Edrin and Tylred easily making their way through the throng of people. And two she did not know, but one of them she vaguely recognized. All four came to a stop at the foot of the four stairs below Emmaline and her parents and bowed before standing up with puffed chests and half cocked grins while staring at her.
And what a shock it was that it would be Edrin opening his mouth first. “Our thanks, my Lord D’Terin. I am Edrin DeVross of the Belftan territory.” He bowed once more before taking a step back.
“I-I-I am Tylred Nivon of the Nivon territory. My Lord, sir.” He took a step back to stand next to Edrin, who barely concealed a look of disgust at the stuttering stout man.
One of the newcomers was next now, a young man with tanned skin and dark hair with a faint exotic look about him, pointed chin and dark eyes. “And, my Lord and Ladies, I am Cammen Xereni of Ysir and I am at your service.” He even had an accent which brought a curling purr to his words and that was enough to catch her interest, aside from his unique appearance. He then stepped back, and both of the other men glared at him.
The next one, the familiar one with blonde hair and blue eyes which twinkled with mischief as well as a boyish roundness to his features, spoke next. “And I, fair people of the court, am Jacen Calgen of Tegan and I look forward to getting to know you again, my lady Emmaline.” He winked at her while practically oozing confidence, bowed while he stepped back, and ignored the next round of glares while looking at her with a cocky tilt to his chin. And for some reason, Emmaline was not put off of his actions. If anything, she was up to playing whatever game he wished if he thought to win her with a smile and a bat of those blonde lashes.
“I thank you all for those interesting introductions and I look forward to talking with each of you in turn. I am sure you will have plenty to offer and I do hope that you are quick on your feet.” Emmaline spoke succinctly and with enough indifference that her mother would be proud of her. “You may resume the music, and I must have a brief rest.” She curtsied perfectly before them and took two steps back with her family before they sat in unison and the drums, pipe, and string instruments struck up a lively tune. The room filled once more with the din of chatter and song.
“What do you think, Dove?” He asked quietly, knowing that she could hear him well enough over the noise.
She smiled and turned her head to look at her father with an indifferent expression, or at least one she hoped looked indifferent. “I’m not impressed.” Her voice was quiet as well to not stir gossip in the stragglers who were hovering around in the hopes of hearing something worth talking about.
Her mother laughed then softly. “Of course you aren’t. The first two are very unimpressive, if I might say so.”
“They are all unimpressive. None of them look as if they are fit to be in my daughter’s presence.” Her father sounded a fair bit grumpy and looked a bit sullen.
“Gregor, hush. This is necessary. You know that you can’t just lock her up away from all this forever.” Her mother sounded mildly amused.
“And why in the hell not? I’m the lord of the castle and I can do what I wish.”
“I don’t think I wish to be locked up, papa,” Emmaline interjected.
“It doesn’t have to be forever, Emma.” Her father sighed. “Just know that I’ll be over here looking just as imposing as your mother looks beautiful.”
“Then I shall tell them to avoid looking this direction so they don’t run from the hall in fright,” she replied and sighed before pushing up from the chair to descend the few steps onto the dance floor.
She nearly shrieked in surprise as Edrin materialized out of thin air beside her. “Oh! Goodness. You’ve nearly made my heart stop.” She put a hand over her chest as her heart thudded strongly against her palm.
“My apologies, my Lady. Do you need to sit down?” He was all charm and concern so close to her parents.
“No. No. Just give me a moment.” She took a deep breath and dropped her hand which suddenly sat in her suitor’s palm as if by magic once more. Fighting the urge to give him an incredulous look at his pretentious touch, she plastered a smile on her lips.
“Would you like to dance?”
“It would seem that is what we are here for, is it not?” Emmaline asked innocently, and he gave her a confused expression but pulled her away from the shadow of her father and mother and into the middle of the floor. She was acutely aware of the amount of eyes currently locked on her. Minor nobility from nearby provinces peppered the room along with the families of her suitors. They all watched with interest as she and her current partner took up the proper positioning on the floor. Emmaline’s free hand lifted to Edrin’s shoulder and she felt his grip touch on her waist then tighten. Their other hands were already joined, and just as the music changed to a slower tune, they began to sway.
For all intents and purposes, Edrin was a fine dancer, or at least not a bumbling fool like he was earlier in his visit with sword in hand, as he led her around their small area with spins and twirls, swaying with side steps that were so popular with formal dances. “You look quite beautiful.” The compliment was sincere as far as she could tell.
“Thank you for saying so, and you look rather fine as well.”
“Those other fools are staring at us in envy. We make a fine couple, you know.”
“Do we? How so?”
“You are beautiful, and I am rather handsome
as well. Any children that you would birth will be stunning to behold, powerful, and rich.” He spoke to her as if she were a simpleton, and it rankled her.
“Merely because someone is beautiful on the outside does not mean that they are beautiful on the inside. That is not all there is.”
“Does that matter?” They continued to move gently to the music, and his hand on her hip moved every so slightly down from her waist to settle on her hip.
“It matters to some. There have been many people who are kind but homely. I think that has much meaning as well.”
“Meaning? What meaning could there be in the poor? Those who are not from nobility mean nothing. They are foolish, boorish, and filthy. There is nothing so disgusting as commoners clinging to your clothes with their filthy hands, asking for food or coin.”
Emmaline’s eyes narrowed. “Why would anyone ask for food in your territory? You market fish. There should be food enough for everyone, should there not?”