by Megan Hart
Either way, Cassian knew enough to be impressed. Most Seekers were turned away as many times as it took to discourage them. Most never made it to the Motherhouse.
But this woman had, and as her gaze fell upon him, he waited for her to hesitate before passing. She did not, much as she hadn’t paused upon their first meeting. By the time she reached him, he’d ceased the slow and careful motions of his hands and arms and had come to rest.
“You,” she said.
“Me.”
She looked beyond him, across the field and the low stone wall separating it from the yard, past the stables and to the Motherhouse itself. She looked tired, but not too tired. One night spent sleeping rough, perhaps two, but no more than that. He might’ve underestimated the length of her journey. Her boots and the hem of her gown bore the stains of dust and grass. When she pushed back the hood of her cloak, her hair proved itself in need of a thorough brushing but her face had been recently scrubbed. She lifted her chin. Here in the light of the morning Cassian could see what had been hidden from him in the forest shadows—this woman’s eyes were more than pale, they were crystalline, the color of ice made faintly blue. Against the darkness of her skin and hair, her eyes were even more startling.
“Shall I bother to ask you if yonder mansion is the house I seek, or would you set my foot upon the wrong path again?” Soft anger tinged her voice.
Cassian couldn’t help recalling the less formal tone she’d used with him upon their first meeting. It had suited her better, along with the tease of amusement in those spectacular eyes. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for adopting a more formal stance today.
“Is it the wrong path if you end up where you wanted to be all along?”
She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice was pitched low. “Seek you to test me on philosophy?”
“A question only.” He blew out a breath and scraped his hair back from his face, thinking it was time for another cut.
She looked him over, and again he was struck by her utter lack of self-consciousness in dealing with him. He, a stranger and a man, should have earned at least a slim margin of respect, if not fear. Of course, she had no idea who he was. He wondered if it would matter when she found out.
“Should I have called it the longer, then, instead of the wrong? It would be the same result, would it not?” Now her eyes narrowed, the dark, sleek brows furrowing. Her mouth thinned. “You deliberately misled me.”
Cassian shrugged. “And yet you found your way.”
She studied him. He waited for anger or accusation, but none came. Instead, incredibly, the woman dismissed him with a sniff and turned on her heel so suddenly she tore the grass from the earth. She gathered her skirts and flipped up her hood. Then she set off across the field toward the Motherhouse.
He watched her for a moment without following and deliberated if he should, but the morning sun had already moved in the sky and he would be late for classes if he lingered. He had yet to bathe and eat and was reluctant to relinquish either pleasure in the face of a long day in front of students who ranged from giddily distracted to purposefully inattentive. He caught up to her in the length of three strides and fell into step beside her.
She twitched a glance his way, the motion of her hooded head telling him of the look rather than any sight of her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Walking beside you.”
She stopped in front of the low stone wall that did nothing to keep anyone in or out. “Why?”
“Perhaps we have the same destination.”
She turned to fully face him. “Perhaps? Or certainly?”
An uncommon smile tried to tug at Cassian’s mouth, the feeling of it so rare he at first didn’t recognize it. “Perhaps certainly. If your goal is to reach that large house ahead, then indeed, but I’m certain I wouldn’t dare presume to speak for you.”
The woman huffed before clamping her lips tight. She softened them with an obvious effort. “I believe you would presume a great many things, sirrah, not the least of which would be . . . obfuscation.”
He blinked at the term, then shrugged. “Mistress, I assure you, I happen along the same path out of convenience, not malice.”
“I should believe that? After what you did yesterday?”
“You may believe,” Cassian said after the barest pause, “whatever you wish.”
“Answer me this. Why lie to me? Why deliberately send me down the wrong path? The longer path,” she amended when his mouth opened on the same answer he’d given her before. “To what purpose?”
“Perhaps I’m a trickster.”
The hood shaded her eyes but he felt the weight of her gaze just the same. “No,” she said after a moment. “I don’t believe that’s true.”
“No?”
She shook her head. From within the depths of the hood he caught a glimpse of her mouth, curving now into a smile. Cassian stepped back at the sight of it.
“It was a test, was it not? To see if I’m worthy, or some such thing? Yes?”
In all the years he’d been with the Order, from the dozens of young women who came seeking service and whom he’d had a part in dissuading, Cassian had never been asked that question. They all figured it out, of course, or were informed of their passing upon their first meeting with the Mothers-in-Service. But not a one of them had ever asked him about his part in it.
“I’m right. I can see it on your face.” She laughed.
Cassian scowled and turned away. “You see nothing on my face.”
Incredibly, her hand reached to snag his sleeve, and this action so surprised him at first that Cassian didn’t pull away. “Oh, but I do. Right there in the furrow between your eyes and the way you tried to keep from smiling just a few moments ago. I’ve surprised you, haven’t I? I can see that, too.”
“Mistress,” Cassian said coldly, “I will thank you to unhand me at once. Your exuberance is . . . unseemly.”
“Your mercy,” the woman said without a speck of sincerity in the words. She let her fingers slide from his sleeve. “I suppose they’ll expect a natural decorum, yes?”
“What you lack naturally will be trained into you.” Cassian stepped back to give her a half bow. He had no more appetite, no need to follow her inside. She’d thoroughly unsettled him.
“Ooh, sounds delicious. I can scarce contain my excitement.”
By the Arrow, the chit was flirting with him. Cassian’s scowl deepened. “I’ll leave you to find your own way inside.”
“Are you certain? I might have need of an escort,” came the retort, completely devoid of anything resembling respect, “lest I stumble and struggle upon my way. Would you care to remind me which direction I am not to follow, sir? I’d hate to think I’m depriving you of one last chance to send me astray.”
“I’m fair certain you’ll have no trouble finding the front door. Good day.” Cassian turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the back kitchen with her bedamned laughter trailing him all the way.
It was amazing how a simple mug of tea and slice of fresh bread, a piece of fruit and a quiet room could make the world a brighter place. Hours before Annalise had woken in a dingy hovel in despair, and now she breathed in the soothing scents of gillyflower oil.
“More tea?” The woman sitting across the desk from Annalise had introduced herself as Deliberata, one of the Mothers-in-Service. “I’ve an entire pot.”
“No, thank you . . . Mother.” Annalise tripped a bit on the title. This woman, with her long, sleek braid and high-throated gown, was as far from Annalise’s frilly, fluttery mother as any woman had ever been.
“Very well, then.” Deliberata sat back in her chair and folded her hands on top of the highly polished desk. She watched Annalise without speaking.
Annalise had already shared the details of her “vision.” There must be more for her to say, but she wasn’t going to spout out a bunch of nonsense simply to fill the space between them. She’d already undergone a test of
sorts, being sent down the wrong road. Longer road, she corrected herself once more. Apparently, she’d passed that one, but had no doubts there would be more. After all, if every person who wished it could enter the Order of Solace, Handmaidens would no longer be rare enough to hold value. On the other hand, she thought as she sipped from the delicate china cup and watched the Mother-in-Service watching her, perhaps there simply weren’t that many women moved to join. The Invisible Mother knew she was only here to delay a marriage she didn’t want, or to avoid it all together. While Annalise believed within her heart she was special, she knew she wasn’t unique.
She set the cup in its saucer and placed it carefully on the desk, then looked around the room. Furnished with heavy, richly carved furniture and thick tapestries, the room was impressive. She’d expected it to be so, of course. While not many knew the details of a Handmaiden’s purpose, most were well-informed of their cost.
“Annalise. A lovely name.” The Mother tapped one finger atop the desk. “And you come from Evadia, yes? Along the border?”
“Yes. I do.” Annalise settled into the creaking chair with a sigh.
“And how long did it take you to travel here?”
“Nearly six days, ma’am. Four by carriage to the town of Delvingdon—”
“I’m familiar with Delvingdon,” Mother Deliberata said dryly. “It is where most of our novitiates from the southeastern provinces go first.”
Delvingdon had a Sisterhouse. A small one, nothing like this grand Motherhouse with its walls of brick and stone and the dome of glass over the central observatory. The Sisterhouse in Delvingdon had only a high iron gate around it and a dour gatekeeper who’d refused Annalise entry and told her which direction to head. Perhaps that had been a test, too.
“I hired a carriage there upon the advice of the Sisterhouse’s gatekeeper,” Annalise said. “Though the carriage driver had little more idea of where to find the Motherhouse than the gatekeeper had given me.”
Deliberata smiled. “We do not keep the location of the Motherhouse a secret. We simply don’t advertise its whereabouts to those for whom the knowledge is unnecessary.”
“Or for those who’d seek to harm it?”
Deliberata nodded slightly. “There would always be those for whom our Order is something to fear rather than revere. Thankfully few in these days, though in times past we’ve not been so fortunate. But nevertheless, those who need to find us, do. As you did.”
“Not without effort.” Annalise frowned, thinking of the man in the forest, the one she’d then met in the meadow. “But I suppose that proves my worthiness to seek a place here, yes?”
“Oh, no,” Deliberata disagreed, but gently. “It only proves your determination, which is not the same as worth at all. Though we are very glad you’ve made it to us, Annalise, the worth of your presence here has yet to be determined.”
Ah, she was being thoroughly put in her place. Annalise did not bristle. She knew when a bowed head was a better choice than lifted chin. “I’ll do my best.”
“Of course you will. They all do.” Deliberata rapped the desk with her knuckles. “Well. I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, such as it was. Let me ring for someone to show you to your quarters, and we’ll get you situated.”
Startled, Annalise looked up to meet the other woman’s eyes. “That’s it? I’m a Handmaiden?”
“A novitiate,” the Mother corrected, again gently. Annalise wondered if there was ever anything the woman did without quiet grace—and she wondered how long it would take her to learn such a consistent, measured response.
A very long time, she thought, if she were to ever master it at all.
“A novitiate, of course.” Annalise stood when the Mother did. The chair snagged on the rug as she pushed it back and she struggled to shove it without looking like a graceless behemoth. When she looked up, Deliberata was staring with amusement tweaking the corners of her mouth.
“I thought there would be more,” Annalise said in an effort to retain her dignity. “That’s all.”
“There will be plenty more, child, never fear. But not all at once. Nothing worth gaining is ever granted in one piece, you know.”
Annalise could think of much of value that could be gained all at once, but she held her tongue. “I thought I’d be required to prove something of my knowledge, that’s all.”
Lots of people knew, or claimed to know, what Handmaidens did, but Annalise had never met a person who’d secured the services of one. There were stories. There always were. Of the landowner in the next province who’d taken on a Handmaiden to satisfy his every base need left unfulfilled by his lady wife, and how his absolute solace had ended with his death. A relief to his lady wife, to be certain, but not exactly speaking well of the Order of Solace. Other tales were less explicit, mostly whispered, many of the “wink and nudge” variety. Inevitably there seemed to be an element of sexuality involved, which made sense to Annalise. She herself couldn’t imagine a life of sexual dissatisfaction, which was why she’d started this game.
Of how Handmaidens were trained there was far less information. Apparently, having a vision was not enough; or rather perhaps a true vision would have told her all she needed to know. Instead, she’d suffered the advice of well-meaning ignorants. “Go to the Sisterhouse,” she’d been told, and once there had been directed to yet another location. That Handmaidens must be of strong faith and well-versed in religious practice seemed the common assumption, and Annalise had no difficulty providing that.
Now, truthfully, she felt a bit cheated that she’d spent so long in study all her life only to finally be unable to use what she’d been forced to learn to impress the woman in front of her. Deliberata didn’t look like a woman who was easily impressed. Annalise admired that.
Deliberata crossed to the woven cord with the large tassel at the end and pulled it. From somewhere a bell presumably rang, though Annalise heard no sound of it, and the sharp rap on the door followed too quickly for the distance to have been long. A moment later the door cracked open and a blonde head peeked around it.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Tansy, we have a new little sister here with us today. I thought since you’ve not been assigned a roommate you’d welcome the opportunity.”
Tansy had bright hair, full red lips, and blue eyes. She looked as though the top of her head would perhaps reach Annalise’s shoulder, and she clapped her hands together in a glee Annalise would have assumed was feigned if Tansy’s broad grin hadn’t seemed to prove it true.
“Oh, lovely, Mother. Yes. I’d be delighted to share my room with . . . ?”
“Annalise,” she said when the Mother didn’t offer the introduction. “Marony.”
“Tansy Kochendor.” Tansy giggled as if even the sound of her own name amused her.
Annalise bit back a sigh.
“Tansy, please take Annalise to see Sister Precision, so that she may be dispensed a set of uniforms and other supplies, and then show her to the bathing chamber. I’m fair certain she’ll wish to bathe after her journey.”
Again, Tansy clapped her hands and bounced. Yes, bounced on her toes as though she were watching a particularly amusing puppet performance. Laughter might not be prudent in this case, but Annalise couldn’t help the short chuckle that escaped.
“Thank you, Mother. Come along, Annalise. If we hurry, I’ll have time to show you around a bit before evening services!”
Annalise found her hand imprisoned in Tansy’s and the pair of them heading through the office door before she had time to protest. “That’s it?” she asked over her shoulder as Tansy tugged her through the doorway. “Mother Deliberata?”
“We find it best if your first day is spent in acclimation. Tomorrow will dawn early enough for us to determine what place you will hold here. Good day, Annalise. Welcome to the Order of Solace. May you find here what you seek, and may you seek what you find.”
Chapter 5
The door closed behind them with a so
lid thud that left no room for argument. Annalise turned to Tansy, who was still bouncing. Annalise took her hand from Tansy’s grip.
“Was this how it was for you, on your first day?”
Tansy’s grin twitched, flattening. “Oh, no. After my parents left—”
“Your parents brought you?” Soft wall hangings muffled the sound of Annalise’s voice, but she minded herself to keep it low and smooth, anyway. This hall had many doors, and she knew not what lay behind any but one of them.
“Oh, yes. When I became of age, my parents brought me. Right up to the doorstep.”
Tansy didn’t look much older than a girl now, and Annalise became conscious of what some might consider her “advanced” age. “How nice for you.”
“Papa had a contribution, of course.”
“Of course,” Annalise said dryly. She understood, now. Tansy was one of those privileged young ladies who’d been sent to finishing school and changed their frocks every season.
“Don’t make it sound that way.” Tansy gestured as she led Annalise down the hall and up a set of narrow stairs that had been hidden behind one of the wall hangings. “I know you think that Papa’s contribution is what gave me my place here, but I can tell you that’s not true.”
“I didn’t assume your father’s money is what gained you entry. The Order takes all who make it to the gates, isn’t that true?”
Tansy faltered at the top of the stairs before moving toward the left-hand hall. “Well, yes. But you wouldn’t be the first to believe that because my parents gave the Order a lot of money I’ve somehow been treated special.”
“Have you?” Annalise was never fond of ignoring questions for the sake of politeness. She looked down the other hall, empty but for some dust motes dancing in the shaft of light from the window at the end.
“I—well—I—” Tansy stuttered and shrugged.