The Second Sister (The Amendyr Series)

by Magdon, Rae D.

  “You won't have much luck getting talk out of that one,” Jessith said throatily, uncurling from her sleeping position and stretching across most of my bed. She lifted her head to watch Cate adjust my skirts. “Don't look so disappointed. She's like this with everyone, even the other servants. You're getting more out of her than most people would.” I ignored the irritable cat and continued trying to engage Cate in conversation until she was finished brushing my hair.

  Although Jessith elected to stay behind in the bedroom and sleep, Cate led me down the grand staircase, which impressed me even less the second time I saw it. She seemed cautious as she showed me the way to breakfast, though not flighty, and I noticed her glance over her shoulder several times and peer around corners before she turned them. I suspected it was a habit. I gave Cate a smile when she left me in the company of my stepmother and stepsisters, and she smiled back, a little surprised. I watched her as she left on silent feet, reminded of a frightened dog that was used to dodging kicks.

  Still thinking about Cate, I sat down and began a quiet, rather unpleasant breakfast with my new family. Apparently, last night's wounds were still fresh. Belladonna and Luciana spoke as little as possible, giving each other cutting looks when Lady Kingsclere's attention was occupied. I wondered what they had fought about, but knew there was no polite way of asking.

  Jamison, the steward, bowed himself into the room as I was biting into a piece of sausage. “Lady, your husband, Lord Roland, is here,” he announced, tugging at one of his shiny buttons and puffing up his chest with self-importance. He stepped aside, and my father walked in, fresh from his latest journey. He was a stranger even to me in his long black traveling cloak, and his thick shoulders hung limp with weariness. He looked older each time I saw him. The lines cut into his face were deeper.

  He stumbled forward and kissed my forehead with cold lips. I lowered my eyes to his fine black boots, the ones with the bright buckles. Somehow he had managed to keep most of the mud off of them even though it was raining, or perhaps he had asked a servant to clean them before he came in. His pride would never have permitted him to ruin his precious new castle with muddy boot prints.

  “Welcome home, Father.” I felt my lips move, but I was not consciously aware of speaking. The greeting was automatic, like most of our interactions.

  “Thank you, Eleanor. I trust that you have settled in comfortably.” He went over to Lady Kingsclere before I could answer, kissing her chastely on her small mouth. I hoped that he loved her, but knew he did not. He had not loved my mother either. Perhaps he had liked her, maybe he had even been fond of her, but his real love had always been money. My mother had been rich when my father married her, although he had made her richer. But now, his new wife had given him something even better—a title to go with his wealth. Having 'Lord' added to his name, I suspected, was a large part of the reason he had married again.

  My mother had loved him, though. She had not complained about the long trips he made. She had ignored his cold, dispassionate personality. She had put aside his obsession with money. I did not know if my father stayed faithful during their marriage, but I suspected he had. He was far too concerned about his money to pay attention to such trivial things as women. My mother had admired him because he was a hard-working gentleman, a refreshing change from her other suitors. Boys that were given everything they asked for did not interest her. Perhaps she married my father expecting him to change, and was too in love with the dream she had of him to let go as the years passed.

  I could tell that Lady Kingsclere was still in love with Lord Alastair, her first husband. For her, this second marriage was bittersweet. My father reminded her of the love she had lost. That comforted her, but then she would remember they were not the same person, and the ache would return doubled. After she pulled away from the kiss, her face was a tapestry of smiles, worry lines, and unshed tears. I noticed Belladonna's gaze was fixed on Lady Kingsclere's face, too, and I knew she understood.

  I looked away from Belladonna when I realized that my father was addressing me again. “…only staying for two days, I'm afraid. I have to travel to Ronin and meet with another dealer.”

  “Two days? I thought you wanted to see more of Baxstresse before you left?” I hoped this would gain me an extra day, at least. If anything could keep my father behind, it was his beautiful new house. He shook his head, and I stared at my plate, dejected. Though I was used to this, a small part of me was always sad when my father left. I wished he would realize how much I loved him and wanted him to be near me, despite his faults.

  “I have no choice. Amendyr’s closing its borders has upset all of Seria's trade. I have to sort out another mess in Ronin.” Amendyr had caused quite a stir when their queen had halted all trade for the first time in centuries. Diplomats had been traveling back and forth between the two countries for months, but even the aristocracy had no idea what was happening. Information had a difficult time crossing the Rengast at our western border.

  “But I promise to make it up to all of you,” my father said with false cheerfulness. He gave Lady Kingsclere, her daughters, and me a friendly smile. I was familiar with this game. He often used presents to buy our affections and soothe his own guilt. I wished I had the strength to tell him that his company would have been a far better gift. “I will bring back a beautiful present for each of you, if you tell me what you would like. What about you, Luciana?”

  Luciana lifted one shoulder becomingly so that the sunlight bounced off of her light brown hair. She was uncomfortably pretty, even in her high-necked morning dress. I crossed my legs underneath the table and squeezed them together, hard. Something felt unnatural about her smile. It made my stomach twitch. “Father, I would like a new evening dress. In red, if you can find a suitable match.”

  My face tightened as I heard her say 'father.' No one else seemed to notice what she had called him. They were distracted by the rest of her request.

  “Red, Luciana?” Lady Kingsclere raised her eyebrows in disapproval.

  “Perhaps something in pink,” Belladonna suggested, almost mockingly. Luciana did not even look at her, but I sensed the scowl that lurked behind her smile. “Yes, I think you would look adorable in pink.”

  “I would really prefer red,” Luciana said, softly but firmly. Something dangerous lurked just behind her eyes.

  “If I can find something appropriate,” my father said, ending the discussion. Merchants, I had learned, were very good at turning conversations away from dangerous subjects. “What would you like, Belladonna?”

  Though just as charming as her sister, Belladonna did not try to win my father's affection with smiles. I was strangely pleased. “A necklace, I think. Linked gold, with a pendant, perhaps. Something that can be worn with many different kinds of gowns. I would be very thankful.”

  Luciana glared so sharply at her that even Lady Kingsclere noticed. I did not understand why their faces were so drawn as they looked at Belladonna, but I knew there was something between them. Belladonna's request had a deeper meaning than I realized.

  “That should be easy enough to arrange,” my father said, still oblivious. “And you, Ellie? What about you? Would you like a dress or a necklace, too?”

  I forced a smile. He should have known me better than that. “If you can manage, I would like you to bring me a hazel sapling.” Everyone at the table looked at me, obviously confused. But if my father had thought about it, he would have understood. Sandleford, and its trees and flowers, had always been a part of my life—of my mother's life. Since I was to stay at Baxstresse against my will, I might as well plant at least one tree to help me remember. I had brought some of Sandleford's white roses to plant this spring as well. I worried, though, that planting a tree would do to me what marrying again had done to Lady Kingsclere. It would soothe me for a while, but then the ache would grow.

  “I suppose that I can find you one,” my father said, “but such an odd request.” One last piece of sausage was left alone on t
he edge of my plate. I frowned at it.

  Luciana's eyes settled on me for the first time, and I felt my blood beating in my ears. My pulse throbbed in my neck and my heartbeat quickened. She was not just looking at me, she was almost staring through me. Her eyes seemed bright enough to burn my skin away. Something about the look she gave me felt horribly wrong. I buried my hands in my skirts to keep them from shaking.

  While Luciana stared at me, Belladonna was watching her. There was hatred in the thin set of her lips and the stiff way she tilted her jaw. Lady Kingsclere and my father were focused on each other, totally unaware of what was going on. How could they not see? The strange sense of unease filled my chest and cut off my breath. Later, I would look into the relationship between Belladonna and Luciana and find out why they seemed to hate each other so much. Until then, I would tread carefully around my two new stepsisters. Perhaps they could be dangerous.

  The arrival of the final course broke the spell that hung over the table. The rest of the meal was finished in a silence that seemed uneasy only to me.

  ***

  True to his word, my father brought me a small hazel sapling when he returned home. Luciana received a stunning red dress that she exclaimed over beautifully. Belladonna got her necklace. As she held it for the first time, I saw her white hands tremble. There was obviously a reason she had requested it, but I was not about to ask her what it was. We were not very friendly with each other, although she was not rude to me either.

  While no one questioned my own choice out loud, I started getting strange glances from my new family and the servants. I wondered if Lady Kingsclere and her daughters thought I was touched for asking my father to bring me the sapling, but I did not care.

  The afternoon that the tree arrived in a clay pot filled with soil, I took it out to a small mound of grass just before the fields started. Fortunately, the rain had stopped for a few hours and the sun showered the soggy fields with pale light. At my request, Cate brought me a shovel and watched from several yards away as I dug a hole for my tree. Despite the offers of help from the field workers, I finished the hole myself. I made sure that my father was taking his afternoon nap while I dug so that he would not stop me. My mother had done most of her own gardening, and I wanted to be just like her. I would remember her every time I came to visit my hazel sapling.

  As soon as the tree was planted, I patted the earth back into place around it and studied my present. It was small and weak looking, but I knew it would grow. Hazel trees needed a lot of moisture, but since Baxstresse always seemed to be raining, I was not worried. Afterward, Cate helped me clean myself up and change my clothes so I would be presentable for dinner. My new family had no idea I had planted the tree by myself.

  CHAPTER 3

  AFTER I PLANTED my hazel sapling, I turned myself to the problem of understanding my stepsisters. To make sure I did not put them on their guard, I only questioned the most discreet informants. At Sandleford, the animals had kept me as well informed as the most talkative servants. I knew that the animals of Baxstresse would never be able to repeat our conversations to anyone else, and I learned a good deal about my new family from them.

  Jessith's keen sense of observation made her an excellent choice for questioning, but the tidbits she chose to drop at my feet did not always fit together completely. Even though she pretended not to care about the goings on at Baxstresse, her instinctive feline curiosity made her a natural gossip. If you know how to talk to a cat the right way, they will tell you almost anything, even if they refuse to explain themselves afterwards.

  “I am sure you have noticed how false Luciana seems, especially around her mother,” I asked her one afternoon as I sat beside my new sapling. The spring planting had not disturbed the grass around my little tree.

  Jessith stretched without worrying about dirtying her fine tortoiseshell coat. Her eyes were closed, and she was trying to soak in as much of the weak sunlight as she could before the gray rain came back. “Clever girl, aren't you, to have noticed that?” Jessith drawled.

  I ignored her barb, as I was used to cats. “I wonder why Lady Kingsclere has not noticed. She seems so sensible.”

  “You're underestimating that woman's cunning.” Jessith rarely called Luciana by her name, referring to her as 'that woman' instead, and sometimes just 'her.'

  “Cunning?” I pressed my hand against the wet bark of my new tree. My palm remembered the familiar texture.

  Jessith arched her back, extending her claws and stretching sleepily into a more comfortable position. “Yes, cunning and hungry for power. The Kingscleres seem to have more than their fair share of greed, don't they? Yourself not included, of course,” she added at the last second.

  “I am not really a Kingsclere,” I said, surprised at the hurt in my voice. I had not meant to put it there. “Besides, even though Luciana is obviously a fake and Belladonna is bad tempered, Lady Kingsclere seems remarkably well adjusted.”

  “When I said greedy, I meant self-indulgent. They take what they want, even when it is bad for them. Watch yourself around Luciana, Ellie. She hates competition.”

  “Why would she think of me as competition? I would never try to take her mother—”

  “Don't be foolish,” Jessith interrupted. “Not her mother, her money! She wants as much inheritance as she can get, and that includes your share.”

  Perhaps that news astonished me more than it should have. I rarely gave my inheritance any thought at all. After my mother died, my father had become the sole owner of everything at Sandleford, with the exception of a few dresses and jewelry that had been passed down to me directly. Aside from that, inheritance and what it meant had hardly entered my mind.

  “If Luciana wants Baxstresse, she can have it. I certainly have no claim...”

  “But you do,” Jessith insisted. “Your father and mother own everything here jointly. As your father's only heir, you are legally entitled to a third of the estate.”

  “Luciana does not seem to like sharing. I have no desire to live here any longer than I have to. I would expect some of my father's money, of course, but only so I could move away and live somewhere else, somewhere that at least has a garden.” My shoulders sank as I stared at my little tree again. Its branches were short and brittle against the colorless sky and its tiny leaves seemed fragile enough to blow off in the lightest breeze. “Do you really think Luciana feels threatened by me?” I asked, softer than before.

  “It's obvious. Her sister is, too, unless I miss my guess, but for different reasons. I can smell her when she looks at you.” I decided not to ask Jessith what this meant. “You should avoid both of them. Let them battle each other and try not to get involved.”

  “So that is why they hate each other? All that, just for money?”

  “Not just for money. They have made it personal. Both of them are always looking for opportunities to put the other out of favor.” I nodded, remembering the night that I had overheard them arguing from outside Lady Kingsclere's study.

  “Belladonna seems introverted, but at least she is sincere. Luciana's fake smiles make my blood freeze, but no one else seems to notice them.”

  Jessith looked up from bathing her side and twitched one ear. “So you haven't figured that part out yet, then?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, but a passing robin distracted Jessith before she could answer. She flipped onto her paws and her spine settled between her shoulder blades, her hindquarters twitching. I knew she was refusing to answer me on purpose, but I what else could I expect from a cat?

  ***

  My other primary informant was just as reliable as Jessith, and he was certainly much easier to talk to. I met him at the beginning of my third week at Baxstresse, when the weather finally cleared enough for me to go riding. Baxstresse's horses were even more famous than their tortoiseshells, and the thought of riding one of them lifted me out of my steady depression.

  On a surprisingly clear day, as early as it was proper, I
asked Cate very politely if she would show me to the stables. After she helped me out of my morning dress and into my riding habit, she led me out across a short stretch of field. I noticed that all of the stiffness left her body as soon as we were outside, although she remained quiet. She even gave me a smile as the sun hit the side of her face. I decided to ask her to accompany me to the stables more often.

  Cate helped me pick my way over the wet mud and held my weight easily when I stumbled, even though she was hardly taller than me. I heard her breath hitch when she caught my elbow. She shrank back as I steadied myself, her face turning as though she was expecting a blow. “Sorry, Miss Elea —”

  “Ellie, please,” I said. “And there is no reason to apologize. It was my fault.”

  Cate blushed, biting nervously at one corner of her mouth. “Very well, Miss Ellie.” She was quiet for a moment. “I would apologize for apologizing, but you probably wouldn't like that, either.” I saw her retreat back into herself, questioning what she had just said.

  I laughed. “No, I wouldn't.”

  Cate brushed her hair back over one shoulder and my eyes lingered on a set of ugly, purple-yellow stripes puffing out from the pale curve of her neck. I continued toward the stables at a brisk walk so Cate would not catch me staring at them. “Ellie, wait,” she called after me, holding her skirts in one hand as she hurried across the uneven ground to catch up.

  “Someone out there?” a voice shouted from inside one of the stalls.

  I peered through the door. “Yes. Where are you?”

  After a few moments, a familiar man with a thin, tanned face came out of the stables, pulling his straw hat down over his brow as he walked into the pale sunlight. His wide smile carved deep lines in his nut-brown skin. He offered me a short, polite bow.