He witnessed her panic attack with no offer of support or even a small apology for being so harsh in his words. Her breath became short, the corset suddenly too tight and restricting her in every way even though she knew that to be false. It didn’t feel wrong, and she started to hyperventilate just a little more.
“What then?” Evangeline managed to ask somehow between breaths that seemed to leave her breathless. She knew how she looked and had no sense to acknowledge her desperation with embarrassment. Every breath seemed harder than the one before.
Glais shrugged as if she appeared normal. “I think we are yet to be defined.” He took her hand and dug into his pocket with the other. “We have a unique proposition before us, one that many do not witness or wish for. Yet here we are, and that is something to be acknowledged.” From his pocket, he produced a ring. Gold for the band, thick and polished to such a high shine that even in this pale illumination Evangeline thought it glowed. In the claws sat a carefully shaped onyx. The gem was so black it sucked in her focus to distract Evangeline as Glais put the ring on her left hand. It perfectly fit her fourth finger.
“The only thing I am sure of Evangeline is friends do not give each other rings of such immense fortune.” He ensured the ring was secure before he offered her a ghost of a smile.
“It’s Eva,” she stammered out her naming preference, still studying the strangely elegant ring he had gifted her finger with.
Glais smiled but shook his head as he reached past her to knock on the heavy doors. Within moments, they opened to show a mousy girl waiting for a further command. “Evangeline.” He corrected her. “You will always be Evangeline to me.” She couldn’t freeze, her chest still rising and falling to hard as the last remains of the panic attack continue to flush through her system. Glais lowered his face to hers, and she briefly felt like this would be their first kiss.
Evangeline had never been kissed before, and Glais was the only man with the permission to gift her this rite of passage. Instead, he seemed to second guess his intentions and just smiled.
“Come to breakfast,” He said, and Evangeline nodded. She could not summon words had her own life depended on it. She was gently hushed into the room as Glais walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Evangeline had slept poorly although that had nothing to do with her surroundings not being to her liking. If anything, the exact opposite was true, and so Evangeline had not been able to rest her mind for even a moment. There was far too much to look at, the bedroom alone filling her with curiosity as she ran her hands over the curved wood and the delicate carvings that decorated the headboard.
Her accommodations at Braykith were far superior to her rooms back home, which was not all that surprising considering the wealth the Braykith family had been collecting for generations while her own father was a relatively new man and still growing his fortune. She had no ill will toward her father and the state of her living conditions. They had been perfect and welcoming. All of this finery was intimidating with wonder, suspiciously a similar reaction she had found with Glais last night.
Inside her chambers, the lights were far more efficient, and Evangeline was able to see the details at a distance rather than being forced to recognise outlines in the dark. The heavy door had opened into what she supposed was considered here as a modest sitting room. If this was the living conditions of a newly acquired Princess, Evangeline knew that the living quarters of Glais or the King and Queen would be far more impressive. The thought of it intimidated her.
Twin chairs sat with plump cushions on their seats, the backs high and beautiful. The wood was dark, but she suspected it had been stained in some manner because the colour was an exact match. It was hard to make such things with wood because no two trees even of the same family were identical. And yet here they sat, complete mirrors of each other. High backs and straight arms, dark combinations for the wood and the cushion.
The colours of Braykith had always been a source of intimidation for Evangeline growing up. The once unknown kingdom with the reputation of demons and possession clad in black to keep the blood stains hidden. Or so she had been lead to believe. Having met only a small handful of people, Evangeline was of the firm opinion that the stories were false. It made her wonder if she had any real reason to fear Braykith.
The chairs sat angled towards each other by a dead fireplace. It had been such an inviting scene to think of sitting here with a fire raging and filling the room with warmth. Across the length of one wall sat a tapestry, the materials revealing its age but in no way did it distract from the beauty of the carefully constructed scene. It was a stunning piece and one that would happily keep her entertained for hours just looking at it. The idea of it was so strong it already felt like a memory. Evangeline had simply smiled to herself and forced herself to take a quick guided tour with the promise of a closer inspection in the coming days.
She would have gladly stood around for the few hours before breakfast only admiring her walls however that did not seem at all logical. So after only the barest of glances through the sitting room and into the bedroom, Evangeline had found a fitful rest in the bed. Her unease was conjured by her own imagination. So many questions and no answers made her obsessive. She would be forced to fill in the gaps slowly over time, and that agitated her.
Evangeline had not witnessed the bathroom in the early hours, and like the rest of the lodgings, it was incomprehensible to the ideas she had conjured about it. Her quarters back home consisted of a modest bath and not much more, perfect for her size and not at all wasteful. She had never asked for more, and her father had never offered. It never occurred to Evangeline that a bathroom could hold such sophistication and yet here she bared witness to just that.
The bath was made of a material she did not recognise, and she would not ask because it seemed like a silly thing to obsess over. Large enough for two people to relax comfortably if they so choose, Evangeline felt far too small. It was held up off the floor by four short and stubby legs, the sides rising up and curling over at the top to produce a smooth hold for getting in and out. A changing room was close by for Evangeline to remove her clothes. A simple black robe hung there and she found herself chuckling when she saw it. Black did find itself in her wardrobe far more than she ever thought possible.
By Sigourney’s description of expectations, it had seemed to Evangeline that the official house colours of Braykith was a formal affair and used to landmark major milestones within her life. Evangeline had felt almost that while the colour had always been symbolic, it had power. That power would be used to demonstrate and maintain control over her. Black was for ceremony purposes and reserved for important business. Somehow the innocents and routine of a bath did not fit into the concocted beliefs.
With a tub of this size, Evangeline had been concerned that the water would chill too quickly and that it would be wasted. The opposite was true. Sitting in scented water that covered her entire body Evangeline watched as her servant girl, who still appeared meek and without personality, managed to carry shovels of hot coals to the tub and leaving them under the bath. The water never got too hot, and Evangeline relaxed further into this impossibly beautiful and comfortable bath.
Finally, she had found a sanctuary from herself, the water finally relaxing her enough that her mind just did not care to make up stories to explain all of the beautiful things she had seen today. It was a real struggle to keep her eyes open, one hand being lifted from the water and a cloth ran over her tired limbs and removed the dirt which had been clinging to her since she arrived. Without a word, the girl cleaned her, taking her time to finish the job and washing Evangeline’s long hair which would be a mistake. Evangeline knew how long it took to dry but she had not fought against it, and she was glad for it because the girl knew what she was doing.
With a heavy heart, Evangeline had to admit that she needed to get out of the bath and finally she gave into the offered robe. She was not surprised to find that the gown fit her perfect
ly, hitting the floor with enough space to walk comfortably. The sleeves were long, hemmed just over her wrist perfectly. It seemed so simple, and the garment was nothing fantastic to look at. Clean and soft fabric brought together and tied closed around her waist, however with her body type she knew this had been made for her. It made her smile and buried her face in the fabric as she breathed in the smell and thanked Xado that she had been so blessed.
“Who made this?” Evangeline asked. She wanted to know who was the seamstress who could cover her so expertly without ever having met her. The girl said nothing in return. It suddenly dawned on Evangeline that the girl who had been tending to her needs and every whim since Glais had put her here had not said a single word the entire time. Once it became apparent, it was impossible to ignore, and Evangeline was not as comforted by her presence as she once was.
“What is your name?” Evangeline knew that she could have demanded an answer, and this girl owed it to her, but something stopped her from attempting such a thing. She didn’t want to attack her character, but it was eerie how shy the girl was. Being ignored in her question, Evangeline had two different thoughts on this new development. Perhaps the girl had been banned from speaking to her, although she could think of no reason for why Quintus would do such a thing.
He had been so insistent on her new role within their family that Evangeline felt uncertain about it. He seemed to encourage a familiarity Evangeline had not earned and yet appeared to be a genuine ask from the King. The welcome to Braykith had been to comfort and create a sense of reality she could feel safe within. To then force this girl upon her seemed unusually cruel and far more along the lines of the monster the world believed him to be and nothing like the man she had met.
The remaining theory was that the girl could not speak. For whatever had brought her to this position as her leading lady in waiting, it was her burden to bear, and Quintus believed that Evangeline would be kind to the mute. If it were so, Evangeline would make her life easier in ways that other people would fail. This was not a punishment but instead an opportunity, or so Evangeline was trying to believe. “Do you have a name?” Again she attempted to make contact and did not call on her station to force the girl to answer her.
The girl was not impressive to look at, and now that Evangeline was less distracted by her surroundings and more focused on the other person in the room, she could see the more visible deformities that went beyond just her ability not to speak. Her hair was thin and the colour of muddy water. It was tied back from her face and secured in place with a length of overused and distressed leather. A ponytail that should have been luscious was barely even there. Lifeless and without bounce as the girl moved around. Her hair appeared to be struggling, tired and ready for the end.
Her body was malnourished. Not merely thin and without fat like Evangeline was born, but there were signs that there was a time in this girl’s past she had not been able to take care of herself. During a crucial stage of development, the crown had failed her. Perhaps the girl had been born to the streets and somehow came to be in favour of the castle where she now worked. Evangeline had so little information about this girl that all she could do was speculate, but she could conceive of no happy story to tell with the facts placed before her.
There was intelligence to her, though. Unlike her own friend Teagan who seemed to stare off into space and get lost in sophisticated conversations, this girl reminded her more of Viviana and the way she would see more than just what was obvious. This girl was not simple, and perhaps if her circumstances had been different, she would have achieved some real notoriety within Braykith instead of being the girl who served the future queen. Whatever had ruined her had broken her great potential.
It was saddening to watch her move, her hip apparently bothering her as she went about collecting clothes for Evangeline to wear to breakfast. There was a ruined grace about her, a dove with a broken wing. Evangeline wasn’t sure how to best handle this situation, and so she naturally tried to get her attention again. Perhaps if she continued, the girl would finally pass words between them. “What am I to call you?” Evangeline asked and paused, holding her breath to catch any answer that might be offered in the silence. The girl broke, the barest of movements, one that was easy to dismiss as coincidence. Evangeline was just as sure that she had imagined the whole thing as she was sure that it was a response to her question.
Giving up Evangeline finally had to admit defeat for now and met the girl’s silence with silence of her own. It felt rude, and Evangeline imagined a strain now existed between herself and this girl. She could not think of her as anything else. She looked young, perhaps only a little more than fourteen but it really was hard to tell, and she did not offer further clues. Tension mounted as the girl ran the brush through Evangeline’s hair.
“It takes a long time to dry.” Evangeline broke the silence, speaking quietly though because at this point words seemed almost wasted. Evangeline was feeling confronted with this girl and her disability. “If you light the fire and brush small sections, it will dry faster.” The girl moved away from Evangeline without a word and returned with a thick piece of sheepskin. She went to the coals by the bath which still glowed with fading life.
Evangeline watched as she collected the lowest burning coals and trapped them within the skin. Holding the gathered corners, the girl returned. She did not even make eye contact with Evangeline and did not explain her actions. She just took a section of the hair and ran the lambskin over it. Steam rose from her hair, and Evangeline felt panic, fearing that the hair would catch flame, but it did not. She repeated the process and following through with the comb. The end result was a silkier product which lay flat and fewer fly-aways. Stunned Evangeline took the section as the girl laid it over her shoulder and collected the next section. This would be worth sending word home about.
Although this was interesting to think on, Evangeline missed the chatter of her friends back home. Teagan seemed never to lose her words, and even Viviana could be bullied into speaking at length on a collection of subjects. Gossip was a guilty pleasure of the three women, Teagan sharing all that she found out and Viviana usually working as an editor to enhance the story or just witness to give the story weight. Evangeline sighed, never imagining she would be missing things that seemed so entirely standard and universal. Yet here was proof that speaking was not a national pastime for all.
The girl did not grunt or sigh. It was not just words she avoided but all forms of communication which Evangeline found far more unsettling. A mute child can still be communicated with. A series of nods, or even pointing out to objects to create a code that could be used. There was nothing from this girl. It made so little sense that Evangeline felt she was going mad as the girl worked on drying her hair using the lambskin and coal.
Finally, they came face to face and Evangeline caught her eyes and refused to look away.
“Is this how it will always be between us?” she asked and in return, there was the barest of nods. Evangeline was stunned to get a response at all, and she reached for the girls’ hand, gripping it tightly and maintain eye contact in the hopes that it intimidated her enough to answer her again. “Can you understand me?” The girl just stared back, and Evangeline tightened her hold on the smaller hand which still held the coals. After an uncomfortable moment of time, she nodded, looking down but Evangeline found her eyes and forced her to straighten back up.
“I suppose that was a foolish question,” Evangeline admitted. Clearly she could hear her. She had been responding to her questions or direction since they met. “Can you write?” The girl gave her no response and Evangeline would not be forceful in retrieving an answer. The girls hand was weak under hers, even though Evangeline had seen her perform acts that required strength. She didn’t want to be cruel, but she couldn’t lose this momentum either. “I just wish to have a name to call you by.” Evangeline found it unsettling not to know the name of the girl who she would be spending so much time with.
The girl considered it for a moment and flexed her fingers. Evangeline released her, feeling defeated but unsure how to proceed without doing something she didn’t want to do. The girl went back to brushing Evangeline’s hair and so silence filled the room again. Seemingly satisfied with the end result, the girl handed Evangeline the brush and left the room. Evangeline watched her leave, feeling sorry for her actions and made to rise to follow her when she returned with an unlit candle in her hands.
She touched the blackened wick and then pressed her palm against her sunken chest all while giving Evangeline a thoughtful look, willing for her to understand what she was saying without the words to make it obvious.
Evangeline frowned, setting the brush aside as she watched the girl touch the wick again and follow through with including herself in the mime. She was conveying a message, and Evangeline was slow to respond because she didn’t want to offend.
“Your name is candle? Flame? Heat? Light?” Evangeline listed the words one after the other with a pause between them. She waited for a response and when she got nothing she would take another guess, following the same pattern. Evangeline frowned, almost out of guesses to offer. “Wick?” It was desperate and thrown out there because she had nothing more. She didn’t think it was possible for a girl to be named Wick, but she nodded. Again slight, uncertain and not repeating herself Wick confirmed the least likely of all guesses.
Evangeline smiled. “Wick.” She repeated, but there was no response from her as Wick quietly went about replacing the candle from the other room and returned promptly to continue her job. Evangeline laid her hand on the other girls to get her attention. “Thank you for sharing your name with me. You are an excellent attendant.”
Wick contributed nothing. Not a smile or a nod. Her face was blank, her eyes too intense for the lightness of their conversation. Finally, Evangeline sighed and let her get back to work. She had no further questions. It was hard for Evangeline not to feel offended by Wick, though. She was now sure that this had not been some kind of punishment set upon her by Quintus. Evangeline was embarrassed ever to have thought such bad things about the man who had done nothing but strive to make her life more comfortable.
The Deviant Curse (The Braykith Series Book 1) Page 9