by Janeal Falor
“You should eat something dear, you're looking peaked.” She scoots to the edge of her chair and heaves herself out of it. “I should leave anyway if you are to get the silver polished.”
“You don't have to.”
“Nonsense. I'll see you at the ceremony.”
She surveys me a final time and is out the door. Now my guilt for scaring her off earlier intensifies. I'm not ready for her to go.
Chapter Thirteen
Phyllis shoves another pin in my hair. It scrapes my scalp. I bite my lower lip to keep from crying out. Father's gift doesn't have a light touch. I miss Cynthia's deft hands. Even my own would be better than this. She moves to pin another wayward strand and I hold my breath. A knock at my bedroom door stops her.
“Come in,” I call.
“According to the Woman's Canon,” Phyllis says, “you shouldn't holler. Next time, I'll attend to it.”
I ignore her and face who I suspect is Cynthia, looking for some relief to her boredom. When Katherine's inked face comes into view, arms laden with a large package, I spring to my feet.
“You're dismissed, Phyllis.”
“But I'm not fin—”
“Katherine can help me if I need it.”
“Your Father won't be happy to hear about this.” Phyllis whips away from me and heads from the room, bumping into Katherine on her way out.
Father may not be happy to hear, but he's not my Master. As long as he doesn't tell the Envadi, I should be fine. I hope.
“Have I interrupted?” Katherine asks.
“No. Sorry about Phyllis. My very first present. Can't say I'm glad to have received it.”
Her footsteps slow. “That woman was a present to you?”
I sink into one of the chairs around the table. “Honestly, I think the word present is used to make her sound better. She's worse than mother and continually referencing Father. I'm sure she's telling him all my misdeeds. A great many, I fear. I'd much rather go back to having things between just me and Cynthia.”
“Maybe this will cheer you.” She sets the package on my lap.
It crinkles as I run my hand across it. “Have you really finished it?”
“With little time to spare. And some extra coins you should keep for an emergency.”
“Women can't keep money.”
“I do and I'm a woman. Besides, you never know when you'll need a little extra.”
The bag is heavy in my hands, though lighter than when I first gave it to her. Can I really keep it? “I don't know.”
“Just keep it and enjoy your new dress.”
“I wouldn't even know what to do with it. Giving it to you was the most I've ever done with money.”
“It's easy to figure out.” She reaches over and opens the bag and pulls out a handful of coins. She quickly explains the gold ones are worth more than the silver, and the brown ones are the least valuable. “It's strange using them at first, but you'll get used to it.”
I put the pouch on the table, for now, and concentrate on the package containing my dress. “This will be better than the other choices. I'll be more comfortable in it, at least. Mother talked to me earlier and, well, it didn't help with my nerves. Do you know anything about the engagement ceremony?”
The smile on her face transformers into an expression I can't read. “Very little.”
“Sit down if you'd like, Katherine. Make yourself comfortable.”
Her eyebrows raise, but she settles into a chair next to me. “I understand it's difficult to endure.”
I pull the package closer to me, causing more crackles. “Do you know why?”
“No. The only thing I know is that you can't make a sound during the ceremony unless they ask you to or they'll cane you.”
“How do you know this?”
“Some of the tarnished who have been servants to a newly engaged woman have noticed things. The women seem jumpier, more distracted, bruises. I wish I knew more.”
I rub my forehead. Katherine stands, walks over to me, and wraps her arms around me. The touch makes me stiffen.
“It's fine to be scared, Serena. You can make it through this. I know you can.”
It's strange to have another person touch me, but I collapse against her, the contact more comforting than I expected. A tear escapes. Blinking, I try to prevent any more from coming. After a minute, she eases away. “You can make it through this.”
I nod, but don't know if I can.
“Good. I wish I could be there to help you get ready, but I'm afraid my presence would make things worse. Let me help with what I can today.”
“Thank you, for bringing this and working so hard on it.”
“Don't thank me, yet. You haven't opened it.”
I tug at the strings trying to keep my fingers from shaking. Once the strings are loose, I pull the wrapping back. My fingers brush against the satin as I hold the dress. The feel of it is different from any other dress I've owned.
“It's perfect.”
“I'm happy you like it.” She spends the next ten minutes showing me how to get in and out of it by myself. After I've practiced a few times, she helps me into my original gown and wraps up my new one. “Try to get dressed as close to the ceremony as you can. The fewer people that see you in the dress beforehand, the more likely you'll be able to wear it.”
“There are going to be problems?”
“You're breaking rules wearing this, so yes, there'll be problems. Can you manage them?”
“It's what I want, so I'll figure it out.” At least I hope I can.
She hands me a parcel. “Some ribbons for your hair if you decide you want them. I'd best be off.”
I hold the parcel close to me. “Why have you done so much for me?”
“You paid me.”
“No, it's more than just me paying for your services. You care. I didn't even know tarnished could care. Why do you?”
Her lips form a thin line. “People like me are more than you've been taught.”
“Oh.” Guilt heats my face.
Does this mean she's not the only kind tarnished? Not the only one who's more than a shadow? Is that true, or does she just want it to be? It's hard to think all those years of them being only in the background, and being told they aren't even real people, were wrong. But I've trusted her this far.
“I feel like I owe you something more. What else can I give you?”
“Nothing. You just be as strong as you can for the ceremony. I'll visit afterward when I can.”
“This means so much to me.”
She gives me another embrace. “I'm grateful to help.”
Chapter Fourteen
I tug at my robe, wishing I could put my dress on. Though if I could, it would mean it was time to go and I don't want that either. I'm not ready to go, just ready for it to be over. The tiny dressing room in the hall where the engagement ceremony takes place, feels smaller with Phyllis hovering. Its bland walls are adorned with an oval mirror and table with face paint pots and a jewelry box. I'm in the only chair, leaving Phyllis to hover over me.
She sets a tea cup before me. “Drink up.”
I eye the earthy smelling tea. “I'm not sure I—”
“Drink it. Your Father said if you didn't, I'm to get him. Is that what you want?”
For a lower class servant, she's not as docile as I'd expect. I grab the cup.
“Good. As soon as you're finished I'll do your face paint.”
“I'll do it myself.”
She grunts and moves behind me. Her fingers rake through my hair. She reaches for a black ribbon.
“Wait, use the red one.”
Her mouth purses. She picks it up as if it were a bug. “Why's it red?”
I breathe deeply, trying to pull in strength. “I just wanted a small bit of color.”
The corner of her lips pull to one side and she ties the ribbon around my hair. “Now, let me help you dress.”
“I would prefer to wait. I don't want to crease it.�
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“Jewelry?”
“After I dress. I don't want it to snag the cloth.” She takes a step toward the door. What if she goes for Father? “Perhaps if you helped me with a small piece, it won't harm the dress.”
Her face relaxes a little. She drapes me with jewels. A ring on every finger and a few on my toes, a reminder of the fewest warlocks I'm to have, though it didn't work well for mother. Seven necklaces, reminders of my fiancee’s claim. They feel like chains, weighing me down. An arm band, five bracelets, and five anklets on each limb feel the same. But no earrings. Nothing to block me from hearing the requests of my future husband.
“There now. That's the last jewelry you'll ever wear. When your owner takes it off tonight, you'll never don another. Would you like me to help you into the dress your mother sent?”
I hide a grimace at the slight thing. “No, thank you. It's the only time I can dress myself.” Which is true, but not in the way she thinks. She doesn't move. “Alone, if I may.”
“You haven't sipped your tea.”
The cup is cold in my hands. I put it to my lips and sip. The liquid is tepid and tastes of leaves and dirt.
“All of it.”
I glare at her and she glares back. The threat of Father is too heavy for me to ignore. Trying not to think about it, I down the tea as fast as I can.
She nods. “You have fifteen minutes. If you need help, I'll be right outside the door.”
Without another word, she leaves. As soon as the door latches, I shed the jewelry. With every piece, a load is taken from me, not just physically, but deep inside, lightening my very being. Once they're all back in their box, I apply the face paint. Not a lot, just some color on my eyes, cheeks, and lips. Finally, I grab my package. I pause for a moment. It would be easier if my sisters were here. Perhaps Katherine as well.
My fingers quiver as I unwrap it and put it on. The laces gathered on the front slow me a moment, but then I have it tied. The dress is silken against my skin.
I'm a little dizzy as I look in the mirror. The dress is a blood red, draping past my feet. The material is tight on my arms, but not restrictive, and comes down to my wrists where the back half bells out to the floor. The neckline is square and modest, but leaving my collar bone free. My lightly painted face smiles back.
There's not long before someone will come to get me. I'd prefer to go out there where there's less likely to be a scene. I hope. At least I'll be one step closer to where I need to be wearing this dress and one step farther from being forced into the slip.
Before I go, I stop at the jewelry box and make one concession. A silver necklace with a single square ruby. Mother's favorite. Whenever we take the jewelry box out, she threads it through her fingers and admires it before putting it back. As I put it on, my head feels a little fuzzy. The world tilts a little before righting itself. When the dizziness stops, I let the jewel rest against my chest. After several deep breaths to try and clear my head, I open my door and stride into an antechamber.
Father is talking to Phyllis and doesn't notice me. The world starts to pull away. Or maybe I'm pulling away from the world. Things seem far away. Off. A door closes somewhere.
Phyllis spots me and yelps.
Father follows her gaze to me and halts whatever he's saying. “What is that?” He gapes at me several moments, his face growing redder by the second. “You will change into the dress your mother provided immediately.”
I don't want to, but my far off body turns toward my room. A hand closes around my arm, stopping me.
“Don't change.” The Envadi lords over to me.
“Do you see what your future bride is wearing?” Father says. “She's dressed like a harlot.”
How can he think that? My dress is infinitely more modest than the traditional one. Yet the words bite. I've never been called such a name. I want to hide, but my body doesn't respond.
The Envadi's face is hard, his voice just above a whisper. “I gave her permission to wear it.”
“Are you mad? You must call off this ceremony immediately. You obviously can't control the wench. I'll take her in hand until she's subdued enough for the ceremony.”
“And how long do you think that will take?”
“Certainly no less than a year.”
The Envadi scoffs. “The ceremony will happen today and she will continue to reside at the manor.”
“You can't mean that.” Father's voice is lower now, but more dangerous. “You'd have her dressed as a red tarnished?”
No one says a word. I feel as if tears should be forming, but nothing comes. It's hard to be grateful I'm not fighting the weakness when I can't seem to do anything. Finally, the Envadi speaks.
“The ceremony will take place now or you will face the penalty of a broken contract.”
Why is he sticking up for me?
Father pounds toward me, hand raised.
“Any punishment will be doled out by me in private,” the Envadi says.
My stomach cramps. This is why he's sticking up for me. Mother was right. It's a trap. He'll see how far I'm willing to take my mistakes so he can punish me more. I'm only saved from losing my breakfast by the detachment that's plagued me.
Father growls and, instead of hitting me, yanks me to him. “Come. You're about to be sacrificed.”
What?
My feet move without my telling them to as my heart pounds. What did he mean by sacrificed? Phyllis opens a door and Father moves through it, dragging me along.
The chattering in the room silences. All faces stare at me, but I don't know what their expressions are like. One thing has captured my attention. A sacrificial altar. Just like at the tournament, but resting on a floor of stone instead of grass.
Who are they going to kill at my engagement ceremony? Whose life will be on my hands? It was hard enough so far away at the tournament, but now I'm a few feet from it. I'd run if I could.
Father lets go and I sway. He waves his hand. A blue thread of light travels to me and bursts under my feet. I'm flung in the air. I try to scream, but my body doesn't respond as I soar upward. Air rushes past me. The ceiling grows closer. The crowd more distant. Just before I hit the ceiling, the ascent stops.
If it wasn't for the tea, I would be screaming in terror, disregarding Katherine's warning from when she dropped off the dress. The crowd watches me from fifty feet below as my dress flaps in the breeze. The extra length is even more appreciated now.
The watching crowd unnerves me as I float there. I gaze upward. The arched ceiling is ten feet above me. I focus on it and try to ignore the feeling of air brushing the skin of my feet.
Abruptly, I'm yanked downward. The ceiling grows farther and farther away from me. My hair streams above me. Those gathered come back into view. I'm going to smash against the rock floor. The fear while falling is worse than soaring upward. My heart pounds.
My body won't move in any way to help protect me from the fall. The Envadi's face flashes by. I stop. It takes a moment to realize I didn't crash. A faint spell flows from Chancellor Zade, cushioning me to the ground.
His face is taut, void of expression except his eyes. They burn with barely controlled rage. I try to bow my head so I can't see how furious I've made him, but my head won't move.
From the side of me, Father grabs my wrist and thrusts it toward the Chancellor. “She's yours.”
Chancellor Zade grabs my wrist and with his free hand, unties my hair ribbon. The bit of red floats to the floor as my dark locks fall to my waist. He scoops me into his arms.
The ceremony is over. He's going to carry me to the carriage and I'll be able to go to the house. Find Cynthia. Figure out how to get rid of this fog clouding my attempts to do anything.
When he places me on the cool stone, I know being finished was too hopeful a thought. My body shivers. It comes to me.
There's no tarnished coming today.
I am the sacrifice.
“Don't move. Don't speak,” the Envadi whispers.
/> His words mean nothing to me. I want to run screaming away from the altar I lay on. But I can't. I can't do anything on my own. Just his exact words. Don't move. Not even a twitch. Despair engulfs me.
The Envadi moves my arms above my head and shackles them. His hand encircles my ankles and places them in shackles on the other side of the altar. As if I could move anyway. If I could, I would fight with everything I have.
He can't kill me though. If wives were killed before marriage, none of us would be here. The thought should comfort me, except he's clearly going to do something. But what? I watch his every move.
He stands at my side facing the crowd. His hands hover over me as if he's about to cast a spell. Nothing. The longer I stare at those hands, the more I need this tea to wear off so I can move. I have to get out of here.
“Happiness.” His voice booms through the room.
Sunny light burst through his hands. As soon as it hits me, I'm laughing, so full of joy to be laying on this altar for him.
“Sadness.”
A deep blue is cast on me this time. I sob, tears stream down my face, wetting my hair and the stone beneath me.
“Hunger.”
The straw-colored light hits me and my stomach spasms. I'm hungrier then when I had to go a week without food. A moan escapes me.
“Satiated.”
The spell fills me and the pain stops.
“Health.
My body brims with strength. If I could rise, I would break through the shackles.
“Sickness.”
Olive green slams into me. Aches and chills. I dry heave.
“Pain.”
A scream bursts from me. My back arches off the table.
“Contentment.”
I fall back to the table, but it feels as if I'm on a feather bed. I sigh.
The feeling leaves. I'm sweating. I want to cry. Or rage. Or scream again. But I can do nothing. My body doesn't respond to anything I try.
“All thoughts and feelings will be mine.”
He reaches to his waist. A clang reverberates through the room. He holds a dagger above. I am going to die. For a moment, I panic, then peace fills me. There will be no more punishments, only darkness. I hope my sisters can survive without me. Please let them survive.