by Robin Roseau
"Do you even know where my bed is?"
"All right. Fine. I'll... I'll..." And then I smiled.
"You'll what?" she asked.
In response, I turned towards the door, leaving her behind.
"You'll what? Lady Yallameenara!"
I actually didn't have a clue what I what I could do, but letting her think I had something in mind was probably sufficient revenge. And so I found myself smiling all the way to the front door.
Malta stood near the door waiting, and as I descended the stairs, she turned to look at me. And she did something I didn't see her often do.
She smiled.
"Hello, Malta."
"You look lovely, Yalla."
As I descended, I gave her a good look. She was in her own dress of shimmering sea green with darker green accents, and a neckline offering a sneak peak of her assets, as Muranna might say. She wore her hair up in a far more complicated style than mine would allow, and her ears and throat glittered.
"As do you, Malta," I decided.
And then I closed the distance. She took my hand, and I thought she might actually kiss it, but I stepped closer and leaned to kiss her cheek, accepting a brush against my own.
She smelled lovely, too.
"Are we leaving immediately?"
"Yes, if that is quite all right."
"Of course." I handed her the cloak and turned around, letting her place it about my shoulders. She collected her own and efficiently saw to her own needs, but then I stepped to her again and made minute and entirely unnecessary adjustments. Malta smiled again, although truth be told, I had just run out of my knowledge of how to flirt.
But I let her take my arm, and together we stepped into the chill winter air.
There was a carriage waiting, and warm besides, and so we would have a comfortable ride. Once we were settled and on our way, Malta said, "Thank you."
"For?"
"Accepting my petition, and this evening."
I thought. I had never really learned subtlety. That was Muranna's role. No. I was far more direct, and I thought Malta might be, too.
"I want to say something, and I want to ask something."
"This sounds serious," she said, "and so early in the evening."
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
"I want us to be honest with each other. That is my way, and I believe it is also yours."
"I want that, too."
"I do not know the games of the courtiers. I believe you know this."
"And while I know those games, I do not play them myself."
"Good," I declared. "And now my question. You are under no obligation to answer. Is this a real suit, or is something else going on?"
She didn't answer right away, and so we sat, neither speaking, while she decided how she would answer -- or even if she would answer. But finally, in words almost too faint to hear, she said, "Real. And now I may ask. Did you accept on some lark?"
"I accepted because you asked nicely, and because I respect you, and because I thought I would enjoy getting to know you outside of your official duties."
"But you do not consider me a potential suitor."
"I didn't say that," I said. "I have never been courted. I don't know what to expect. I was surprised by your petition, but perhaps pleased as well."
"Were you?"
"There is the age difference," I said. "But I think our gap is much smaller than the gap from my grandfather to his youngest wife."
"He has more than one?"
"Two," I said. "This is not unusual. If I had remained with the Arrlotta, it is most likely I would have been a second wife, but probably not a third."
"A third."
"Ralalta tells me you know something about me most don't."
"Ah. Yes."
"Only very few clan chiefs hold three or four wives, and my stature or appearance would not have carried me to any of them." I squeezed her arm. "Of my suitors, I believe I take you more seriously than any of the others, although I have not yet met all of them." I smiled for a moment. "I feel good about this, but will you tell me why you invited this, Malta?"
"I'm going to sound pathetic, Yalla."
"More pathetic than admitting the Arrlotta find my appearance distasteful?"
"You are lovely, Yalla. You have an exotic appearance that defies analysis."
"Why, Malta?"
"I am lonely," she said. "There. It's pathetic, but I'm lonely. And I admire you. You are so strong and resilient, with a quick laugh. You are also intelligent and kind. And I already told you I enjoy your appearance."
"That's not all though, is it?"
"Perhaps not," she said.
"Tell me."
"My job," she said. "I deal with so many of the queen's secrets. With anyone else I would have two choices. I could pursue someone untitled but trusted, such as Lieutenant Keelara, if she would be interested. Which she isn't. But if she were."
"I understand."
"Or there is you. With you, there would be no politics. I wouldn't wonder if you were trying to become closer to the queen. I wouldn't worry what I might tell you."
"You trust me."
"Yes, Yalla. I trust you. And you're in a similar position with me, aren't you?"
I thought for a moment and then said, "Both Juleena and Ralalta tell me I require experience. I intend to hold control over my heart until I have had it. Courting me may take far longer than you have patience, only to capture no prize in the end."
"I understand the risks."
"But at least you aren't putting all your eggs in one basket," I added.
"Excuse me?"
"You'll see others, right?"
"Yalla, one does not pay court to the queen's foster daughter while also entertaining other choices."
"But I'm entertaining a great many choices, and everyone in Marport can list them. And I am told there are more rolled up scrolls awaiting delivery. It's all quite silly, you know."
"Yes. You may accept a herd of suitors, but your suitors risk offending you, and by extension, the queen, if they are pursuing anyone else."
"That's silly, too."
"And it is the way of things. They all know the risks, Yalla."
"And you, knowing I will be making no decisions next week. What do you say now?"
"I say there is no one else who currently interests me, and so I lose nothing to be patient, and I gain your company while I do so. Yalla, if in the end we go other ways, I will always value this time."
"Well then," I said. "If someone does take your interest, will you promise to tell me?"
"I may not tell you, but I may ask you for a deeper commitment, and if you are unwilling to offer it, I will then make my own decision."
"Well then," I said. "I won't worry."
She paused only a moment. "You were worried."
"Not about all the suitors. But about you. And Larien. She would come from so far. For the others, I am not so worried, but perhaps that is because I do not know them. And I think some come for false reasons, or with false expectations."
"Well, I do not believe you should worry about any of this. I believe you should acquire the experience the queen and princess have mentioned."
"I'm going to try. Will you tell me where you are taking me?"
"Jorald and Feerie Westwater are hosting a intimate evening. I am unsure who else will be in attendance."
"Friends?"
"Jorald's sister hosted me when I first came to Marport."
"So important friends."
"Well, Liessa was, Jorald's sister. She died several years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't say Jorald and Feerie are important friends. I would say this was the first event to which I could invite you, and I didn't want to wait."
I laughed. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Feerie has a reputation."
"I have a reputation."
It was Malta's turn to laugh. "Yes," she agreed. "You
do. But I don't need to advise pretty young girls to avoid being alone with you."
"Seriously?"
"She has two requirements. Young. And pretty."
"I'm safe."
"No, Yalla, you most certainly are not."
"She must have three requirements."
"And the third would be?"
"Willing."
"No, no. She only has two requirements."
"She would force them?"
"She doesn't necessarily ask permission before touching, although I have never heard of her refusing a 'no' when delivered forcefully and frequently." She patted my hand. "Don't worry. I have no intention of leaving you alone with her."
"I can't imagine anyone would dare touch me," I said. "I am fairly certain Princess Juleena's subsequent visit with them would be unpleasant."
"I am not sure Feerie would let that stop her, Yalla, and it wouldn't do the queen any good if Juleena were required to repair an insult to your honor."
"And you'd rather there be no need for me to make a scene."
"If a scene is appropriate, feel free to make it. But I'd much rather it weren't necessary."
"All right. I think I understand. What do they do?"
"Do?"
"You know, their duties. Or trade. Or whatever it might be."
"Oh. They are Lord and Lady. They don't have duties."
I laughed but then realized they she was serious. "You're Lady Malta, but you have duties."
"My title came with my position," she said. "I have land now, but only what I've been able to purchase myself, and I am too busy to oversee it. But in Framara, if someone is a Lord or Lady and of an age to be head of their household, they almost certainly have land."
"And the land manages itself."
"Some manage the land themselves. Others pay someone to do it for them. Lord and Lady Westwater are wise to follow the second fashion. Liessa, now, she was brilliant, and she taught me so much. I arrived as a young foster, much younger than you were. But she taught me to be her clerk, and later I rose well above clerk. And she was the one who introduced me to Ralalta to be the new chatelaine."
"So you owe her."
"I could never repay such a debt," she said.
"You must miss her."
"Deeply. She was like a second mother to me."
Just then the carriage came to a rattling stop, the coachman calling out to the horses. A moment later, the door opened. Malta stepped out and then turned to assist me.
Homes in Marport varied dramatically, even amongst those of wealth. Not everyone put their wealth into fancy property in town. Those with business interests might own an entire block or two, with the division between home and business difficult to guess. Others might own or rent a portion of a larger building. This was most common when the home was secondary to something grander elsewhere in Framara. Others owned houses of various sizes, some of them one of several houses along a block.
And then there were homes such as this. It wasn't like the palace, and it wasn't the grandest home in Marport. But it spoke of wealth.
We had come to stop in a circle of cobblestones, sheltered by a portico. The house was built of stone and, like many in Marport, three stories tall. From our location, I couldn't judge the exact size, but it certainly wasn't small.
I turned to Malta and raised an eyebrow.
"Liessa had no living children," she said. "She left some of her money to me and a few others, but Jorald inherited the bulk of her wealth. He sold their home and hers and bought this."
"Who lives here with them?"
"The servants. They have four children about my age, but it is rare I've seen them here." She shrugged. "It's big, but it's only a quarter block. There are far larger homes in Marport."
"I suppose there are," I said.
At that, I let her take my arm, and she turned me towards the entrance. By the time we had taken four steps, the carriage began to rattle away. And before we reached the doors, a footman had them open.
A maid met us inside, taking our outer clothing from us while a young boy knelt before each of us to carefully clean and dry our shoes. This was nothing unusual, and Malta and I took turns supporting each other while he worked.
Then, the floor safe from whatever debris the boy had brushed away, the maid led us deeper into the house. We were not the first to arrive. Our hosts were waiting in the parlor with one other couple. As the maid announced us, a man and woman stood and moved towards us. Feerie Westwater was a stylish, buxom woman of fifty years, or perhaps a little more. Her dress was blue and rich but displayed far more of her assets than Muranna would have said was at all appropriate. Her husband, Jorald, was older than his wife by at least ten years, and probably more than that, with thin, white hair and a mustache he liked to twirl until the edges came to a point. I would discover a booming laugh and an appreciation for fine food and alcohol. He smelled of cigars, a scent I never found appealing, although I would never see him smoke one.
They both greeted Malta first, of course, and I thought there was some honest warmth.
But then Malta introduced me.
"Malta," said Feerie. "You said you were bringing someone. You didn't say it was the queen's foster daughter!" Then she turned her attention on me, and I knew just from the first look that Malta hadn't overstated things. "Yallameenara, how delighted we are with your company." She took my arm, the one Malta wasn't holding, and gave me a tug. "You absolutely must tell me how Malta lured you here."
I wasn't expecting the assault upon my arm, and so when she tugged, I went with her, entirely out of surprise, and Malta lost her grip. But before I was required to do anything, Malta said firmly, "Feerie. Give. Her. Back."
"But-"
"Give. Her. Back."
"Surely you wouldn't begrudge me-"
"Feerie, if you want a pretty girl on your arm, get your own. This is my first evening with Yallameenara, and I do not cede her attention."
Feerie sniffed, but she relaxed her hold, and Malta recollected me, pulling me back to her side.
"Thank you."
"You could share."
"I am sharing her company," Malta said. "You may admire her charm and wit from across the room."
"Fine, fine," Feerie said. But she gave me a look that told me she was making a strategic retreat, and I should watch carefully for the next sortie.
Jorald stepped in, offering a gesture deeper into the room. Waiting on a short sofa were Breela and Carden. They were of an age near Jorald and Feerie, and Jorald introduced them as "lifelong friends".
After that, Malta drew me to another sofa, and we sat very close together, our legs touching. She was warm, and the attention was unusual for me, but it felt nice at the same time.
"Our lasts guests should be along shortly," Feelie said. "Jorald, don't just stand there. Pour something for Malta and Yallameenara. That really is quite a mouthful, dear. Does it mean something in your language?"
"It is just a name," I said. "My very closest friends call me Yalla, but that would be too soon, for we have only just met."
"Of course," she said. "We must be proper."
"What will it be, Malta?" Jorald asked.
"Wine for me, if you please," she said. "Yalla?"
"Wine as well," I said. "But I hope you will not be offended if I drink sparingly."
"Not at all," Jorald said. He stepped away and returned a moment later with a glass for each of us.
They made small talk for the next several minutes. I said little, but only listened. It was quite odd to see Malta away from her duties. She always seemed so brisk and efficient and in command of the room. But here she was not in command, and I think she felt nearly as out of place as I did.
But then the maid knocked and announced the next guest. We all turned, and I saw Lady Reese standing beside some man I didn't know.
* * * *
It was perhaps a half hour and countless dagger looks later that Reese said, "Yallameenara, perhaps I might have a word
in private."
"Of course," I said, standing.
"Use the library," Feelie said. I was a little surprised she didn't tell Reese not to do anything she wouldn't do. But I followed the woman out one room, across the hall, and into a library. She held the door for both of us then closed it behind her. I moved to the center of the room then turned to face her.
She walked straight to me, stopping an arm length away. "You have destroyed my son's reputation."
"How could I have done such a thing?" I asked. "I have not spoken of your son to anyone not of my household, and I would be absolutely shocked if any of them repeated a single word."
"You evicted him quite summarily from the palace."
"I would not put it that way at all."
"How would you put it?"
"I would say I berated him for his exceedingly poor manners, suggested if he had said to my grandfather the sorts of things he said to me, he would be lucky to outlive the experience, and then removed myself from his company. I believe I asked a serving girl to see to it someone led him to the door, but I can hardly believe a serving girl would be able to do something so grand as to be called an eviction."
"Did you strike him?"
"Is that what he told you?"
"There are rumors all over Marport," she replied. "My son has had very little to say on the manner and has fled the city. In shame, I will point out."
"That is not my doing," I replied. "But your son has worse manners than a girl of the Arrlotta. What does that say to you?"
She sighed, and some of the stiffness left her spine. "Did you strike him?"
"Other than a brief touch on greeting, there was no physical contact at all. He felt the edge of my tongue, but that is all."
"What did he say?"
"I do not care to repeat the words or the manner in which they were said, but as I am sure you know, I come from the Horse People. Perhaps you are able to use your imagination."
"That idiot insulted your horses."
"Repeatedly."
She actually offered a curtsey. It was both brief and surprising. "You have my apologies, Lady Yallameenara."
"I am not sure I am owed apologies from you, Lady Reese," I said. "But if you believe I am, they are accepted."
"On behalf of my son-"
"Might I suggest that if you do his apologizing for him, he won't learn to think before he opens his mouth?"