by Anya Josephs
“Well.” Aunt Mae frowns. “Are you sure this is needful, Sisi? Jeni has done all right without reading before now.”
I disagree, but don’t object. When it comes to persuading Aunt Mae of things, Sisi is definitely more equipped for success than I am.
Sisi explains, with a casual wave of her hand, “I’m already getting so many letters and things, I need someone to help me keep my calendar. If Jena is my lady companion, she must be able to serve the role fully.”
“And this has nothing to do with all those books in your room?” Aunt Mae asks shrewdly.
“Of course not.”
“Hmph. I’ll allow it—provided you attend all your other lessons today, Sisi, Jeni.”
I hadn’t left any of our lessons early, so it’s easy to tell who that is directed at.
“Even etiquette, Auntie. I swear it,” Sisi says. And she fulfills that promise to the letter, even as the work drags on endlessly.
I wish I could find a moment in the busy roster of our lessons to thank Sisi, but surely she knows how much it means to me without me saying anything—not just that she’d arranged for the lessons, but that she sits quietly through a full two hours of etiquette in order to make it possible for me.
I don’t pay any attention to Karili’s obnoxious babbling, not with the excitement of a reading lesson to look forward to. Karili doesn’t seem to notice my distraction—it’s Sisi, and not me, who needs to be trained up into a proper lady.
I’m practically bouncing in my seat by the time the next instructor arrives. Jehan is a skinny, dark-haired man, wearing a shirt that’s a little too big for him, pants that have been patched too many times at the knees, and a terrified expression. He can’t be older than five and twenty, and he’s got freckles all over his golden skin. I like the look of him at once. He reminds me a little bit of myself.
“L-lady Jeni?” he asks.
“Just Jeni, please. The title is my cousin’s. Will you sit?”
“Th-th-thank you. Um. Master Elan said—I should—”
“I want to learn to read,” I say frankly. Nervous as I am, I can hardly feel at all afraid of this poor, stammering lad. “Can you help?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
We start with the alphabet. He teaches me how to shape each letter and the sound they make. It takes most of the day, but he says I’m a quick learner. I hope he’s not just flattering me—I do feel like I’m progressing fairly quickly through the exercises he sets for me. By the time night has fallen and I notice Aunt Mae skulking impatiently around the edges of the room, I am able to read out the four letters of my by-name, J-E-N-I, as well as the A that would change it to my True Name. This isn’t much of an accomplishment: Kariana taught me at least this much before, but it’s been years and I couldn’t remember any of it prior to the lesson. Still, I feel as though I have a little more insight into one of the great mysteries that surrounds me, and I’m not sure I would have that without Jehan’s patient teaching.
“Would you be able to come back tomorrow, or…?” I ask. “I’m sure you might have duties elsewhere, you must be busy…” I don’t know exactly what a member of the konim does. Leasane is far too remote to have ever had a priest of its own sent there, so I’ve no knowledge of the way the whole thing works.
He answers as smoothly as I’ve heard him speak yet. “Frankly, milady, there’s very little to do. It’s just me and Garem there now. The rest are long gone, and… I fear Garem is no longer entirely with us, either. I’m happy to leave the Tower of the Konim whenever I have the chance.”
“Then will I see you tomorrow?” I ask, trying to keep the note of hope out of my voice. I don’t want to seem too eager.
“Tomorrow, milady.” He bows and takes his leave.
It’s going to be a long time before I’m ready to help Sisi dig through the thick leather-bound books that fill every inch of spare space in her room, but at least I’m doing something.
I also send myself on another errand. I tell Sisi first, which feels like a necessary courtesy—this is, after all, her master plan to discover Lord Ricard’s evil intentions and destroy him utterly. But I don’t accept her offer to come with me.
“You,” I whisper—we’re in her bedchamber, and it’s late, but there’s no reason not to take as many precautions as we can to avoid attention—“are rather too noticeable, my dear cousin. People would know if you were out wandering the halls. I, on the other hand…”
She sighs loudly. “Curse you, you’re right. I wish you weren’t.”
“Sorry. But I figure you need the information, even if you can’t gather it yourself. We shouldn’t wander around the palace blind, and it might be good to get a sense of where things are. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’ve basically either kept us locked in this splendidly gilded prison or sent servants to lead us where we’re going like dogs on a leash.”
“A very elegant leash.”
“Indeed,” I agree, for we’ve been waited on hand and foot, wanting for nothing, as long as we’ve been here. And we have not been allowed out of the servants’ sight except for when we’ve been safely ensconced in our chambers. “I don’t think I even know how we could get outside from here.”
That makes her frown, as she realizes that I’m right. We’re effectively imprisoned here—and she far more than me, for I at least can hope to slip beneath the notice of the servants. “When are you going?”
“Tomorrow, while you’re having your luncheon.” Sisi has been invited to dine with Patine and some of her other cousins, more Numbered girls distantly descended from a neighboring line that none of us knew existed until she got the invitation. “I figure Aunt Mae will be distracted worrying about whether or not you’ll disgrace yourself and our entire family by using the wrong fork or something, and I’m not expected to be in any lessons, so everyone will probably forget I exist.” As usual.
“That's a great idea.”
“Thanks,” I say, a little surprised. I know Sisi loves me, but she’s never particularly free with praise. It simply isn’t her way.
“I might just make a manageable spy out of you yet.”
I stick my tongue out at that remark, and Sisi laughs. It’s almost like old times.
The next day’s morning appointments go by quickly. We’ve progressed to learning actual dance steps, not just having our posture corrected, and Aunt Mae handles everything with the dressmaker. Sisi winks at me as Mari departs—and it’s time for my adventure.
Sisi makes a big enough production out of dressing for her luncheon that I am able to creep out of our rooms while Aunt Mae is distracted by fussing over her hemline. Sisi catches my eye and smiles at me as I push the door to our rooms soundlessly open, and a warm spark of joy travels through me. It’s nice to be back on the same side as Sisi, and against someone else, even if our mutual enemy this time is far more terrifying than an annoyed relative, and the possible consequences much more dire than some extra chores.
I draw in a deep breath, for the first time since I arrived in the chamber where I’ve been a pampered prisoner for the last weeks. Now, a little less exhausted than I was after our long journey, and a little more capable of curiosity, I can take the time to look down the long, shimmering hall. I notice closed doors every few feet of its length, crafted of the same gilded wood as the one that leads into our assigned rooms. I tiptoe down the hallway, cautiously moving away from our chambers.
I’m too nervous to open any of the doors, unsure what I would do if I actually saw someone. I could get in trouble, and even if I didn’t, it would be awkward. No one actually forbade us from leaving the rooms we were assigned to, but I don’t exactly think they want me sneaking through the halls either.
So, for today, I keep my exploration to pacing the length of the hallway. I take in every detail I can see: the gentle curve of its shape, the polished golden shine of its walls and floors, the oppressive quiet, broken only by the patter of my feet against the ground.
On m
y second lap back down to the base of the hall, I notice little hidden panels in the walls. They’re barely visible, only thin lines against the gold, but when I press on one lightly, it swings open to reveal a long, unlit staircase. I’m not sure what these secret doors are for, but it must mean something. I carefully close the panel again.
I try to store every little observation away in my mind, so when the time comes that I need them—if indeed it ever does—I’ll be able to recall each detail I’ve encountered. Perhaps it will do Sisi some good, as she tries to learn her way around the palace. Unlikely though that seems to me, I still feel better doing this than I did waiting around in our rooms. Even if all I ever do with the information is spin it into a story to tell the children of the family one day, after I return to my home in the middle of nowhere, at least I’ll have done something.
My walk, though I only go as far as up and down the hallway twice, takes almost an hour. I place one foot in front of the other to measure out my paces, trying to get a scope of the size of the place besides my stunned sense of its immensity. At the far end of the hall, I find only a closed door, made of heavy oak. I vaguely remember walking through it in the rush of our arrival, and I conclude that I’m not ready to venture out past the seemingly empty hallway where our rooms are. I need to get a little more familiar with the layout of the palace first. The possibility of getting lost in its many hallways is far too real, and too frightening to risk.
Though I’m unwilling to continue out into the other parts of the palace, I retrace my steps back past the entry to our rooms. I follow that path all the way in the opposite direction, to find that at the other end, the hall spills out into the open, to the crystal wall that marks the very edge of the palace itself. We’re on the ground floor, so there’s just a single step down, leading into the garden, clearly visible through the translucent walls. I’m too nervous to leave, but just glimpsing the bright flash of greenery does something to me that I’m not quite sure how to describe. I’ve been cooped up inside our suite of rooms for nearly a week. Spacious though they are—much bigger than the entire farmhouse in size—I haven’t so much as seen the sun while I’ve been here.
I stand there for a long time, leaning against one of the gently gleaming golden interior walls, staring out through the crystal at the garden. I don’t know how to describe the feeling that comes over me. It’s as if there’s an ancient, wordless song rising up in my heart. I even let myself hum along. I can just barely feel the touch of sunlight on my face through the thick crystal of the palace wall.
Like almost everyone in the Kingdom, my family worships Gaia, the Goddess that is the Earth itself. She is the Mother of all of us, from whom we came, and to whom we one day return. I’ve known those words, and the many small rituals of country worship, all my life. From the yearly dances Kariana once led through our fields, to my aunt’s habit of leaving the best bit of a special meal aside “for the Goddess,” to my uncle Willem’s fondness for swearing in Her name, I have rarely gone a day without passing mention of Her. And I’ve rarely thought about Her any more deeply than that.
Yet, as I stand there, feeling the heat of the sun, seeing the perfect beauty of the unbroken green growth in front of me, something rises in my heart. I don’t know what it is—worship, or gratitude, or something else I don’t know how to name. I don’t look for the words, just let myself feel that nameless and perfect warmth, the presence of the Goddess in the green.
Chapter Twelve
Sisi can’t put off her face-to-face meeting with Lord Ricard forever. He summoned us here so that he could see the girl rumored to be the most beautiful creature in all Four Corners of the Earth, and he won’t wait until the night of the ball to do so.
Of course, the order comes in the form of an invitation, hand-delivered by Elan, along with another elaborate gift, this one a pair of white pearl earrings. “His Royal Highness, Prince Ricard, Second in the Kingdom, begs the honor of Lady Sisi’s presence at dinner tonight.”
“Tell His Highness I will come,” Sisi responds, and she doesn’t even visibly grit her teeth. She’s become a more accomplished liar over the course of our stay here.
Elan bows and departs, leaving the three of us alone to make our preparations. Aunt Mae and Sisi are expected at the Prince’s quarters at sundown tonight—Sisi as the guest of honor, and Aunt Mae as the chaperone who will protect her reputation. The whole thing seems foolish to me, since the whole point of Sisi having been brought all this way to the palace in the first place is that Lord Ricard wanted to lay claim to the most beautiful woman on Earth, an activity which would seem to contradict the presence of a chaperone. But I didn’t design Numbered etiquette, that much is for sure, and I won’t pretend to understand it.
In fact, I am so irrelevant to this whole venture that I’m not even invited to dinner. Sisi sulks when she realizes that. But I’m not qualified to chaperone because of my youth, and that means that I would only be intruding on the dinner.
“It’s okay, Sisi,” I try to tell her. “I can keep myself occupied for a few hours.” There is plenty of palace left for me to explore, after all.
“But I want you with me, Jena. How am I supposed to stand up to him without you there? I’m stronger with you at my side.” She says all that quietly, so Aunt Mae can at least pretend not to overhear.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll plan before you go, while I’m helping you dress. And as soon as you get back, you can tell me everything.”
Sisi favors me with a small smile. “Thank you, Jena. You always know what to say.”
I’m not sure how much my words actually helped—she seems only a little less tense—but I’m still pleased she at least wants me to feel I’m useful, in spite of the fact that I can’t come along to the dinner with her.
Instead, I focus on the preparations. She needs her ears pierced, for one thing—farm girls don’t generally have a lot of need for jewelry, so neither of us have pierced ears, but it would be the height of rudeness not to wear Lord Ricard’s gift to the dinner, according to the etiquette lessons we’re still struggling through daily. That, at least, makes some small measure of sense to me, unlike much of what we’ve learned here—but I can see how, if someone gave you a gift, they might want you to be sure and wear it.
I’ve never done this before, but I understand the theory. I wipe down a sewing needle and meet Sisi’s eyes.
“You ready?”
“Just get it over with,” she says, gritting her teeth. I push the needle through her ear, surprised to find it no harder than breaking through tough cloth for a stitch. A single drop of blood wells up. “Huh.”
“Was it bad?” I ask.
“Not at all. I’ll do yours next, if you want.” Sisi has enough jewelry now, sent by the prince, that she can afford to give some of hers to me.
“I’d like that,” I agree. I’ll never look as pretty as Sisi does with the white pearl earring against her dark brown skin, but it would be nice to have something elegant. I’m jealous of her pretty things, even though I know she doesn’t want them.
I do. I don’t think I’d take what goes along with them to get them, though. Sisi seems in turns enraged by and terrified of Lord Ricard’s attentions, whether it comes in the form of gifts or notes or, as with tonight, an actual face-to-face encounter. And I have to admit that I don’t quite understand why.
Oh, Sisi is always to some degree unimpressed with the men who fawn over her beauty. No doubt it’s worse with Lord Ricard, since he hasn’t even seen her, just heard rumors about the most beautiful girl on Earth and decided he had to have her. But, little though she likes any of the boys or men who have expressed interest in her over the years, I’ve never seen her like this, except maybe right after the Golden Soldier tried to grab her arm on our way here.
Sullen and quiet by turns, always with her mind on something else, Sisi doesn’t even seem like herself—and I know her better than anyone. What I don’t know, not really, is why.
I know she bl
ames Lord Ricard for Kariana’s death, and possibly even for the loss of her own parents. I know she despises the idea of being kept like a trophy.
I don’t understand why she doesn’t simply walk away. Surely no one would actually dare try to stop us from leaving the palace—and since Sisi is now the owner of a small fortune in jewels, it’s not like we’d have to worry about things back home the way we did before we came. She could just sell a few of Lord Ricard’s presents and we’d be the richest family in the Quarter.
I’m hesitant to ask, knowing that Sisi’s temper has been a fearsome thing of late, but she seems to be in a talkative mood, especially as far as Sisi’s moods go, so I dare to ask, “What are you so upset about tonight?” as I pierce her second ear.
“I’m worried I’ll lose my temper and bite clean through Ricard’s head,” she says, turning to admire her new earrings in the mirror. “These look well, Jena, thank you.”
“Everything looks well on you. It’s hardly an achievement on my part to make you look good, cousin.”
“Nonsense. You could have made them uneven, or any number of other things. Now switch with me, it’s your turn.”
She offers to let me choose from a wide variety of earrings in her collection. I don’t want to lay claim to anything studded with diamonds or made of gold—two materials so rich even I, ignorant as I am, can recognize as extraordinarily valuable—so instead I tell her to pick for me. She chooses simple golden studs with a brilliant green stone in each.
“Emeralds,” Sisi explains. “A good choice. They’ll match your eyes, I think. They’ll suit you far better than they do me.”
With her rich coloring and exquisite features, everything suits Sisi, but I wager it would annoy her if I said as much, so I just say, “Thank you. You don’t have to go giving me your precious jewels just to make me feel better, you know. It’s very nice of you.”
“Please. It’s nothing. I’ve only got the one set of ears.” With that, she slides the needle through my earlobe. It burns, exactly one second’s duration of fiery and ferocious agony, and then she’s putting the earring itself in. “Lovely,” she pronounces me.