by C. M. Lind
“Certainly not!” Soli was caught off guard by the comment, and the smile that had covered her face wavered as such a question.
“Perhaps you are jealous of sweet, young Marguerite then? She, no doubt, has several men vying for her affections!” Etienne was still laughing.
Soli had never seen such a display of pure delight from Etienne, and somehow the idea of someone thinking she was jealous filled her with anger. She wanted nothing more than to throw that damn half-eaten, raspberry pastry right at his face. “Absolutely not!”
“Are you sure?” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Please, I tease! I swear!” He took a sip of water from his glass. “It is the way women are here. They are all so jealous of each other, and Marguerite would be lucky to marry at her age so quickly.”
Soli forced herself to take another long drink of water to hide the abhorrence on her face.
“Now I have upset you. You can hide behind your glass all you want, but it is true. I apologize if I have offended you, mistress. I must confess, I feel comfortable around you. I feel I do not have to put up such pretenses or simply say something because it is proper. Honestly, I find the women here to be shallow vipers, and I thought you would enjoy the jest.”
Soli had stopped drinking the water halfway through his apology. The glass rested on her lower lip. The small amount of water that escaped down her chin made her realize she was still holding the glass. She set it down, and she composed herself to look as regal as possible while wiping the spilled water with her hand.
“Your apology is accepted, my lord.” The words were stiff, and she cursed herself that she had such difficulty regaining that placid, agreeable façade from before.
He sighed. “So we are back to that then?” He raised an eyebrow. “Please, speak freely with me. Do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Promise me you will no longer act the part of Soli, but that you will give me your honest thoughts?”
Soli felt naked for a moment. It was such an odd request from someone she never thought would speak so openly with her. Her fingertips touched the glass in front of her and she tapped it a few times. “Yes, I will try to be honest with you.”
“So, tell me why you aren’t married?” He took the pastry in his hand again and continued his deliberately slow pace consuming the delicacy.
“Why aren’t you?” she countered before she could stop herself. Her lips quavered for a moment before she reminded herself that her quip was what he had asked for: her honest thoughts. “Many Avelinian men are already married or at least have recognized bastards by your age. But you and your cousin are still single and without heirs.”
Etienne took another bite, but it was a much larger one than before. He slowly chewed it, as if it was stale, stiff bread that his teeth were locked in battle with. “That is a fair question.” He swallowed. “My cousin, as I am sure you have heard, is indiscriminate with his attention. He is constantly looking for something new to sample. Even if you ask him his favorite wine, tea, or meat, he will always change his mind. It’s different every few days. I do not believe that he could ever marry and be satisfied.
“As for children, I do not doubt that he has many, but none that he will ever recognize. Could you imagine an heir that came from a trollop? It would never happen. He wouldn’t stand for it and neither would Lilane.” He took the pot of tea in front of them and poured himself a cup. He offered some to Soli, but she waved it off.
“You only answered half of my question,” stated Soli.
“You’re right. I did. I suppose I wanted to dodge that in a way. My solitude is not as vain as Jae’s. I am no philanderer like him. Mine is a practical reason. I myself own nothing. Everything I have is given to me out of familial love from my cousin, Jae. We grew up together after all. My parents died when I was young, and Aunt Lilane and cousin Jae were the only family I had. Jae could have sent me away when he became lord of this place,” he waved his hand around him, “but instead he treats me like a brother.”
“So no one will marry you?” Soli actually felt bad for him in that second.
“Please,” he chuckled, “do not pity me. I am lucky! I do not have to marry some vain, dull, hollow-headed woman just because someone told me to! I do not have women lying to me because they are salivating over my coffers!”
Soli smiled. Somehow Etienne being content with his lot in life made her feel better. He was making the best out of where he was, and she envied him in that moment.
“Now, I think you owe me an answer, and I do hope it’s more exciting than mine.” He took a tentative sip of the tea. His face soured, and then he dropped two cubes of sugar into it.
“It’s not,” she lied. “I was supposed to marry someone, but I didn’t want to.”
Etienne stirred his tea with the silver plated spoon lying next to his cup. “An arranged marriage, is that it?”
“Yes, but I never married him. I left before then.” It wasn’t entirely a lie—more of a certain, limited interpretation of the truth.
“I thought arranged marriages are not common in the North. I suppose you ran off to be a great traveler then? A teller of tales and singer of songs? Is that when you started your apprenticeship with Roed?”
Of course, she thought, Roed! She could simply talk about him until Etienne’s ears fell off from boredom. “Yes! I left with him! He saw my talent, and he knew I would be a perfect apprentice. All our stories are passed from master to apprentice, and he had never had anyone to teach before me.”
“I suppose that makes you special then? To be the only one?” He tried the tea again, and he must have been pleased with it because he set the spoon down.
“Perhaps he thought I was. I’m not as good as him though, and in a way, I think he took me in because I needed him.” She closed her mouth immediately after saying that. She hadn’t even admitted the thought to herself but there it was.
“He was a wise man to take you then, and he would be proud of you.” He smiled at her.
She smiled back. It felt good to talk about Roed, but it also hurt. He felt close to her in her mind, but it also made her feel his physical absence that much more. She wanted to hold the satchel tied around her neck and hidden in her shirt, but she didn’t dare in front of Etienne. She did not want to answer any of his questions about it.
“Well, now that you’re free from your arranged marriage, what is your excuse?” He was smirking at her from behind his tea cup.
She furrowed her brow. “I don’t think about such things. I don’t have time for it,” she half-lied. Etienne didn’t need to know about her and Randolph the other night and her subsequent embarrassment after being told that he was merely being polite to her.
“Oh,” he teased. “I see.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. The Etienne she had gotten to know was polite to a fault and more proper than a princess; the Etienne in front of her then was personable. He was teasing her with his tone. It was all at once confusing, disturbing, and fun. She wondered who else knew him as this Etienne?
“I have heard stories about those in Osterlock, that love has fewer boundaries up there.”
She maintained her raised brow.
“That perhaps you don’t have time for men because you don’t want time with them.” He let the phrase linger, as if the inference was obvious.
She maintained her raised brow.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that sometimes women bed women and men bed men.”
Her face went wide. Did he really think she was like that? She wanted to laugh at the remark, but she couldn’t. Instead she stared at him blankly. She didn’t even blink. It was true that there were fewer boundaries where she came from about such things, and when she was young she had a very close friendship with another girl. Yes, the two of them had always held hands, snuggled, and even once kissed, but Soli didn’t think she was like that. But then again, she had never kissed a man, so if she was going with straight numbers… She shook her head. “I understand what you are say
ing, and I can assure you that I do not make such things a priority with anyone—regardless of who they are. It is not important to me.”
Etienne laughed, and Soli wasn’t surprised. She was sure her face was ridiculous in that moment. She was tired for the morning and flabbergasted by the whole breakfast. She wondered if maybe she was asleep on that plush bed, and this was her subconscious having a row with her.
Etienne got his laughter under control, and he looked as if he was going to speak when Jae walked in. Jae’s half opened, tired eyes were the color of starless midnight sky. His long ashen blonde hair was loose, something that Soli had never seen. He wore a simple burgundy robe and loose pants. He must have just awoken.
Jae stretched and yawned as he strode in, but then his eyes locked in on Soli and he stopped. “Good morning, cousin,” he said to Etienne, although his eyes were clearly on Soli.
“Good morning,” Etienne returned the greeting. His demeanor had shifted back to the stiff man Soli knew from before.
“So, who is this that makes my cousin laugh?” Jae was asking Etienne, but his eyes lingered on Soli.
“This is Mistress Soli. She is a historian of sorts,” replied Etienne. His words were quiet and slow, as if he was crafting the perfect response for Jae—carefully selecting his words.
“Historian?” Jae approached Soli. He lowered his head until he was a foot away from her own, and he stared into her eyes.
Soli was put off by Jae’s proximity, but she couldn’t figure out exactly why. She was tired, and she was still fighting off the melancholy from her intruding nostalgia. She had an odd evening the night before, and a surprising encounter in the alleyway just an hour or so before breakfast. Even Etienne’s behavior was confusing her. Now she had Jae inspecting her—scrutinizing her face. She felt more like a jewel in a glass case than a person to him, but she decided to keep his eyes locked—only someone scared or flattered would look away, she told herself.
“You’re too pretty to be a historian,” Jae declared. He slipped his fingers around her empty tea cup and took it for his own. He didn’t pour his own tea; instead he made a high pitched whistle that one might use to call a dog, and then he sat down uncomfortably close to Soli.
“She is a musician, a storyteller, and a most learned historian,” Etienne explained. His hands moved to the utensils by his plate. He cut the pastry he was nibbling on before with the knife. He created several small pieces. “She will be staying with us for a while. I find our discussions entertaining.”
“Well, historian,” he said the word incredulously, “tell me a story while I have my morning drink.” He took a seat next to her, setting the cup in front of him.
The door opened and Marguerite entered the room. Her eyes were cast down, and she held her hands together in front of her. She quickly moved to Jae, but stayed out of arm’s reach of him. He motioned towards the silver pot of steaming coffee.
“How much do you know of the gods of the north?” Soli asked Jae.
Marguerite poured the coffee quickly, filling it up to the brim, without spilling any over the lip of the cup.
Jae grabbed her hand before she could set the pot down. “I’m afraid you didn’t leave any space for cream or sugar. You should know by now how to please me.”
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” she whispered. Her face was flushed, and she looked like any more strong words could knock her right over.
Jae lifted the cup and took a long draught from it. Soli thought, with the amount of steam, it might have been too hot to drink so heartily, but Jae seemed unfazed. He set the cup down in front of him with a loud clink. “Very little. I believe there are three of them, correct?”
“Yes. There is Volunder, Eire, and Verdorin, but even then it isn’t that simple. Verdorin is actually three gods, in a way, and beyond that there are countless spirits and Valkins—or lesser gods.”
Marguerite set the pot down. She lifted the porcelain top of the large sugar bowl, and, with the small silver tongs lying next to it, she lifted a sugar cube and plopped it into Jae’s cup.
“That sounds absolutely confusing,” Jae added in a dry, quiet tone directed at Etienne—who smiled politely at his cousin.
“Verdorin is the god of what is, and he and she is present during the twilight. When the sun is high he is Urdorin, the god of what has happened. When the moon is bright, there is Verda, the goddess of what may happen. This is a complicated god of duality, fate, luck, trickery, change—and so many other things.” Soli took a small sip of water to wet her throat. She glanced at Marguerite again. The uniform was clean, and it was clearly designed to fit the curves of her plump breasts, her thin arms, and her wide hips—yet it fit so poorly around the girl’s waist.
Marguerite’s eyes did not rise to catch Soli’s glance. Instead, she gently dropped another sugar cube into Jae’s cup.
Soli set down her glass and returned her gaze to Jae’s intense eyes. He hadn’t once looked at Marguerite. Soli was certain that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since he entered the room. The morning light poured in through the windows that surrounded the room, there were even a few on the ceiling, but somehow Jae’s eyes did not lighten with the sun. Instead his dark pools drew the light in like an unwary traveler discovering one of The Pitch Lakes up north. It was sucked in—never to be seen again.
“Verda is incredibly beautiful. Her skin is moonlight, her eyes are a nebulous blue and purple, and her voice is like a gentle yet cold winter wind. She should be though, for she is a shape shifter, and like the moon that waxes and wanes, she may change with the rising of the moon.
“Verda loved the realm of man, and she would visit to bathe in our streams and lakes. This she would do nightly, taking pleasure in the pure mountain waters. One night, she saw a man who took her breath away. His skin in the moonlight looked like precious gems and crystal, and she envied him. The sight of him filled her with a lust that caused her to tremble, and she knew that she would have him no matter what.”
Marguerite poured a small amount of cream into Jae’s cup as Jae leaned in closer to Soli.
“Verda approached the man in the nude, wrapped in nothing but moonlight, with her arms outstretched. But, he was no man; he was Hoggorm, the spirit of the mountain. He knew that she was the moon and would not let her near him. He would not bed her, nor would he marry her. She was known to be a woman of wild whims and rambling, insatiable desires.”
Jae smiled, “If only such a woman existed!” He laughed. Marguerite jumped at the outburst.
Soli glanced at Marguerite, who had regained her composure since Jae’s outburst. That time though, the two women locked eyes for a moment. Marguerite’s gaze quickly turned down towards the table. Soli turned her eyes back to Jae. “Hoggorm wanted a real wife, someone who would only be his. You see, Hoggorm is of the earth and the mountains. He hordes the gems, the gold, the silver, and the iron, and he is selfish! He did not trust the moon, and he sent her away with harsh words.
“But Verda was crafty, and would never be denied something that she desired. She saw what could be, and what she saw was Hoggorm begging to be with her. She saw that he was strong and vigorous, and that all night he would please her—again and again!” She slammed her hand down on the table to accentuate her point. “Verda too, like all gods and spirits, can be selfish. She wanted the pleasure of him, but also, from what she saw, his strong child. She knew he would sire her a son of immense strength. The images of such things drove her to obsession.
“The next night she took the form of a mortal maiden. Her skin was golden like wheat, her hair thick and vibrant like the sun, and her eyes the color of sea ice. She approached Hoggorm, draped again in nothing but moonlight.” Marguerite took a spoon from the table and slowly stirred the coffee for Jae. “Hoggorm could not deny his lust for her, and he hardened. He was used to the mountains and the earth, and such a maiden would surely taste like summer on his tongue—and he wanted to taste her. But, he sent her away, this time with kind words. You s
ee, Lord Jae,” Soli leaned closer to Jae, as if the story was only for him. As if it was a great secret. “She was too beautiful. He wanted a faithful wife that no one would steal from him. He wanted an obedient wife that would not think herself better than him. Someone too beautiful would only cause him strife.”
“Too true,” he whispered back to her. He took his coffee in his hand, and Marguerite set the spoon on the table. She backed away, giving him a slow bow. Jae did not seem to notice.
“So, Verda returned the next night, but this time in the form of a plain woman. Her hair was like dried straw, her skin ruddy like a laborer’s, and her sturdy, naked form smelled like earth and bread. This time he was unmoved by her. He sent her away with nothing but the flick of his hand. This time, Verda had made a mistake, for what good is a wife that cannot please a husband? What good is a wife that will have no children, because he cannot even be hardened by her?”
Jae gave a curt, quick laugh, followed by a sigh.
“The next night she returned again, but she waited for him to find her. She laid by the stream she knew he walked by every night, and acted coy as he spotted her. He found her as beautiful as an autumn day. Her hair was the color of orange falling leaves, her eyes were like rich loam, and her figure was full yet luscious. He felt himself moved by her. He ran to her, but she acted distant, even though she wished to mount him in that moment. He begged for her kindness and affection, and she acquiesced, putting up a small, demure fight.
“Just as they were to lay with one another, he said he could only be with the one who would be his wife. Now Verda had no desire to marry, it was contrary to her ever-changing nature, but she knew she wanted him, and she wanted his seed. She declared they could marry, but only by the light of the sun. That at noon tomorrow they could be joined.
“Hoggorm was overjoyed at her assent. Not many mortals would choose a life below ground, rarely to see the sun or feel the wind again. He thought himself truly blessed that he would now have everything he desired. He entered her within moments of her acceptance, and the two spent the night in each other’s arms.