by C. M. Lind
Lilane scoffed, letting her jaw drop slightly as if repulsed. “You always sour everything since you burdened us with your presence at six.”
Etienne’s fork fumbled in his hand, clattering against the plate. He pulled his hands into his lap, and a bright crimson burned in his cheeks.
“Mother,” Jae sighed. “Again with this?”
“I do not say it to be rude, my love. Stating the truth is not cruel.”
Soli’s eyes were on Etienne, looking for any sign how to handle the situation, but he gave her no assurances or direction. He was breathing lightly, and Soli noticed that he was grasping his hands together so tightly that his fingers were turning white.
“Here I was, already a mother, and then I was suddenly dumped with this trembling little boy that I barely knew!”
The door to the kitchen opened, and Marguerite came out, looking a little more worn and plump every day. She carried a silver tray holding a pedestaled chocolate cake topped with chopped walnuts and curly flakes of dark chocolate.
Jae’s head turned towards Marguerite. “My favorite treat for the evening then! How lovely!”
“You have to understand,” Lilane’s old fingers clutched around Jae’s hand, which appeared to barely tolerate her. “I was determined to pour all my love and attention into you! I was so worried about you.”
Marguerite set the platter down on the table and began to slice the pieces.
Etienne’s breaths turned from shallow to normal, and his hands loosened around each other, but he still kept his eyes down.
Soli turned her eyes from Etienne to Jae, who was practically salivating while he stared are Marguerite.
“Suddenly you had this little boy who would take away the attention you rightly deserved! Your father insisted you even share your toys with him. Your toys! Who knows what else he would have made you share if he had not passed when he did!”
Marguerite removed the used plate in front of Lilane, setting it to the side. Her other hand, holding a small plate of cake, went to serve Lilane first.
Jae knocked his fist against the table. All the glassware clattered at the strike, and everyone’s eyes went to him. Lilane’s mouth went tight, even though it was obvious to Soli she wanted to continue to say more about Etienne.
It was the first time Marguerite’s eyes had gone to his, and she seemed to lose her breath for a moment.
With a raised eyebrow, he motioned to his plate with his other hand. His fist was still pressed into the table.
Marguerite nodded several times as she took a few quick breaths. She removed the used plate in front of him. Her hands were trembling, and Jae’s old fork lightly danced upon the plate to the rhythm of her quakes as she moved it away.
He relaxed his fist. “That is enough for one evening, mother. I am the man of this house, and that means I am in charge of everyone here. If I wish my cousin to stay then he will stay, and I will hear no more of your boring, self-righteous stories. You are ruining my favorite dessert.”
Lilane’s face scrunched into a horrible, tight smile. “Of course, my love. I would never want to ruin your treats.”
Marguerite served Lilane. She stabbed her fork into the moist, brown flesh of the thing, and it ruptured in gooey, chocolate filling.
Etienne finally raised his head, and a polite smile, eerily similar to Soli’s, was upon his face. “My favorite as well, cousin. Once again, you have the best of tastes.” His eyes flashed to Soli.
Marguerite served Etienne next. She was not trembling any longer, and, with every step away from Jae, she was beginning to regain her composure.
Etienne waited until Soli was served her slice before he meticulously ate his, sheering slivers off with his fork centimeters at a time.
Soli wished to follow suit, but her stomach was almost rioting in excitement for the delicacy. She hadn’t eaten since her disturbing lunch with Jae, and, even then, she barely touched a thing given how lightheaded and strange she had felt.
She sheared off a third of the slice with her fork and shoved it into her mouth. Warm, delicious, rich chocolate cake filled with a hot pudding center set her tongue in a frenzy, and she cursed that she had spent so many years on earth without ever having a thought of pudding in cake.
“I am glad to see you eating, my jewel.” Jae chuckled. “My man told me you were feeling ill.”
“If she is ill—” started Lilane. Chocolate pudding dribbled on her lip.
Jae cut her off. “Is it this flu that you have caught? You were quite queer at lunch today as well.”
Soli swallowed so she could speak, even though she would have liked to chew the piece a few more moments, but, even after she swallowed, she hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m afraid,” she took a sip of water, “that no. I am not feeling very well.”
Jae frowned with a sigh.
Lilane looked at Soli as if she was the mother of all plague before turning her face to Jae. “We cannot have you ill, my love.”
Jae turned to his mother; his patience appeared to wear thin.
“Your party! Your big gala! You cannot be ill! Everyone will be there.”
“I know, mother,” he tersely whispered to her. “You do not have to tell me.”
Etienne looked to Soli. With an eyebrow slightly raised, he looked her up and down like an investigator at a scene of a crime.
“Well, it seems you will be on boring bedrest for a while,” sulked Jae. “I hoped to take you to out again—since you did not feel well earlier today.”
“Do not worry,” said Etienne. “I will bring you some books.” He flashed her a quick smile before returning his gaze to his barely eaten cake in front of him.
“I am not that unwell. I’m sure I just need a good night’s sleep.” Soli didn’t want to be blamed for the entire collapse of the household in Lilane’s eyes.
Lilane finished her last bite of cake. “Confined to your room you are. We cannot have you making everyone ill! How you people spread disease—”
Jae cut her off again. “She is not confined to anything. She merely needs sleep, and then she will be well.”
Etienne hid a wicked smile with a well-timed wipe of his napkin, but Soli saw it.
“Well, we cannot dine with an afflicted.” She gently dabbed her lip with a napkin, completely missing the mess on her chin. “Let us retire for a drink, my love.”
Jae rolled his eyes. He pushed the plate of half-eaten cake away from him. “Fine!” He rose with such a start that the table practically shook. “You have ruined dinner anyway.”
Lilane put out her hand to be escorted by her son.
He simply walked out of the room, never even giving her a glance.
She slowly dropped her hand down, her eyes glaring at Etienne, daring him to say anything.
He didn’t. He seemed content enough to look only at the cake upon his plate, and he pretended not to notice any of what had transpired.
With a groan she pulled herself from her chair.
Normally, if Soli had seen someone in need of such help, she would have offered a hand. But not for Lilane, she thought. Not for Lilane—and especially not for her son.
She decided to take a very narrow interest in her cake as well, following Etienne’s strategy.
The two sat in silence as Lilane huffed out the door, after her son, who was surely, Soli thought, not waiting to have a drink with her. Instead he was probably tracking down Irene or Randolph, demanding they bring him entertainment for the night to make up for his “ruined” dinner.
And, no doubt, she thought, Randolph would have to ride out to the brothels to fetch a woman or three for him. Jae could send letters, but his pride insisted no such evidence of his entanglements ever be written down, so Randolph would have to take care of his business for him.
A little part of her wondered if he took care of any of his own business on those outings on behalf of Jae.
A big part of her wished he was there at dinner. It was ridiculous, she knew, to want such a t
hing. It would have been inappropriate. Only nobles and their ilk would be at such a dinner, and even Soli thought it strange she was invited to such things, given how little the Reinouts knew of her or her parentage.
As soon as Lilane left, the pretense of civility on Etienne’s face was gone as well. He dropped his fork to his plate and pushed it away.
Soli turned to him. She had no real love for Etienne, but he had always treated her well. He had always been respectful of her. He had never once been inappropriate in any way.
“Are you alright?” She lowered her head closer to his to gain his attention.
He turned his head to hers. Small tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, and he looked utterly defeated—bare and wounded.
Her hand drifted from her lap to his, and she hesitated for only a moment before touching his hand.
His eyes widened at her touch, but he did not pull away. Instead, he interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed them, almost as if he was unsure they were real, as if testing them for true, warm substance.
She squeezed back. “Are you alright?” she repeated.
He wiped at his eyes with his other hand, and he looked more like a doleful child than a noble lord. “Yes,” he said. “It is always the same with her. Every time. I should have expected it, but she caught me off guard. I did not think she would say such things in front of you.”
Soli did not think the old hag would have either. “Why do you put up with it?”
He chuckled once. “Because I have to. I have no money and no prospects. Not all of us can run away. At least I have security here.”
He sighed. “The first month that I was here was the hardest. I cried every day. I could not, for the life of me, understand what had happened to my parents—that I would never see them again. I did not really know what death was.
“Lilane hated me from the first day, but, you see, it was the crying that made her the angriest—that set her off. I would cry during breakfast, during my studies, alone while playing, outside in the garden—even in the bath.
“The last night I cried was when I was taking a bath. Lilane came in, wineglass in hand, and shooed the maid away that was caring for me. I was scared of her because I did not know her, but part of me hoped she would want to know me. That in time she would hold my hand and, eventually, I would not cry anymore.
“She spoke with me, and I remember that I was not sure if she was being kind or polite. It was hard for me to tell the difference then, not like now. She ran her hand through my wet hair, and I thought to myself, this is a mother. This is what a mother does. She helps wash your hair.
She pulled her fingers through it, and she even scratched my head, just like my mother used to do. I cannot remember what she was saying when she clenched those strands between her fingers and shoved my head into the water. All I remember was coughing and burning. The soapy water stinging my eyes. Hearing my distorted voice under the water echoing against the metal tub.
“Then she let go. She had spilled her wine all over herself. She said I did it. It was my fault. I ruined her dress. I lurched over the tub to vomit, coughing water and sudsy bubbles. She slapped me then; she didn’t even wait for me to finish my retching. It was hard enough to make my ears ring and my sight went fuzzy for a few moments. My lip was bleeding, but I could breathe again.”
Soli thought about the children she had seen at The Cliffs. She thought about what those men had done to her siblings all those years back—what they would have done to her had they caught her. She squeezed his hand again. “You deserve better than this.”
“Thank you,” said Etienne. He stared into her eyes. “You have always been so kind to me. I know you cannot stay with me forever, but I want you to know that I appreciate our time together, and I hope, even though I have forced you here, that you will recall me fondly. That you will never blame me for anything or carry hatred in your heart.”
Soli cocked her head. “Of course I wouldn’t.”
Etienne smiled sadly. “We shall see.” He leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers, and he placed one, small, lingering kiss on her cheek.
She closed her eyes while she let him, and she was filled with a suffocating heaviness at the probability that this was the first time Etienne had kissed anyone since being a child. He had no one to hug. No hands to hold.
She was angry on his behalf—that anyone could do that to a child. She was disgusted at the cruel Jae and his haggish mother. She was ashamed—she thought she was caged in the manor because of Etienne, but the whole time he was the prisoner, and all he had wanted was a short while of kindness.
She was also thankful. Even after losing her family, she had never been alone. She had Roed. He was her whole world, and he loved her as his own. Even after losing him, she still wasn’t alone. She had a new friend who listened to her, cared for her, and defended her.
Etienne had no one.
He pulled his hand from hers, pushed his chair back, and took leave of her without a word.
As she watched him leave, her hand went to the pouch at her neck, and she squeezed it—silently thanking Roed for the time she had with him.
The kitchen door opened and Marguerite entered to clear the table. She did not raise her eyes to Soli. Instead she left Soli’s half-eaten cake alone and collected the other dishes, stacking them on a platter.
Soli tucked the pouch back into her shirt, and her hand went to the pocket at her side. “I have a gift for you, child.”
Marguerite froze at her voice addressing her. “What?” She managed to say after a few seconds.
Soli pulled out a small cloth pouch from her pocket. “A present.” She set it on the table.
Marguerite eyed it. “Why? What is it?”
“It is a special tea. We have it back home, but I was able to find it here.”
“I don’t like tea, but thank you, madam.” She continued her work, but kept stealing glances at Soli and the pouch in front of mer.
Soli rose from the table and set her hand on Marguerite’s shoulder. She froze, dropping a small saucer onto the table. It broke in two perfect halves.
Soli, with great care, turned Marguerite to her. “It’s medicine.”
“Medicine?” She stuttered. “But I’m not ill.”
Soli glanced to her stomach.
Marguerite collapsed into tears. Soli caught her, holding her up, and cradling her on her shoulder. She patted the girl on her back.
“It’s alright, girl.” Instinctively, just like her mother used to do, she kissed her on the top of her head. Her hair smelled like mint and cheap soap.
“I keep thinking about that story you told him.” She whispered through tears and gasps. “How she gave birth to a monster. A real monster!” She sobbed again.
Soli could feel the girl’s tears soaking through her shirt. They were hot against her skin.
“I keep thinking that there is this monster inside of me! That he is going to rip me open!”
“That won’t happen.”
“But your story is true, right? About the monsters?” She looked up at Soli. Her eyes were scarlet red, as were her cheeks.
“It is believed Cragmar is real, yes.”
This caused the girl to sob again. “Then it is true. It will be a monster like his father!”
After what Etienne had told her of Lilane, and, from what she knew of Jae, she wondered if the mother’s maliciousness was passed to her child. She wondered if Jae would pass it on as well.
She turned Marguerite’s face to hers. “Drink a cup of tea when you wake, at noon, and before bed. Do not eat anything else, and only drink water. Three days you must do this.”
Marguerite nodded.
“It will be hell. You will feel like you are dying, but you cannot stop if you start. You will feel like you are on fire. Your stomach will knot. Your hips and belly with ache like you have never felt, but you cannot stop. At the end of three days you will bleed, and then you will be free.”
Margueri
te kept nodding, consuming Soli’s words as if they were the gospel from the mouth of a prophet.
“You won’t be able to work or even move much. Tell them you are ill, and hide your tea from others. Do not tell a soul.”
She shook her head. “I won’t even tell my mother. I promise. She told me I should be happy to have his child—that this meant the easy life for us both. But I know the truth. Life will only be worse.” She put her head back on Soli’s shoulder. “Much worse,” she whispered.
“I can help you with this, but you will have to leave soon afterwards. I won’t be here long to help you again.”
“I know. I will,” Marguerite whispered. “I owe you more than words could ever say, but…thank you.”
Chapter 40
She had lost another one. Another damn one. Another dusty grave to dig, to throw more bones and flesh into. Gnarled, boney, barely-formed limbs sprouted out of it. He guessed it was a girl, but he couldn’t be sure. It lacked the proper parts—also eyes. Just two shallow holes where they should be.
He didn’t dig too deep. What was the point, he figured. Even coyotes didn’t prowl his lands anymore. There wasn’t enough water, and the beasts were the only ones with enough sense to leave.
Not him though.
He didn’t leave.
When he suggested they should, she cried again. There is nowhere to go, she said. It’s too dangerous, she claimed. This was my father’s farm, and he wouldn’t want me to leave it, she yelled with certainty.
Like she was suddenly a fucking oracle.
She was crying. Again. He was outside digging a hole for her rejected…thing.
He threw the lump into the dirt. It splatted, and dust flew up around it, clinging to its damp flesh.
They were dying sooner now, he thought. They didn’t even get a single breath anymore.
She was crying. Again and again and again.
He couldn’t listen to it anymore.
He couldn’t stay anymore.
He needed to leave.
He knew that the Seatcas up north would take in indentured servants. He didn’t like the idea of it, but he figured it was better than hunger, death and fucking dust—and anything would be better than listening to her cry. Listening to her wail and sob knowing she would never do a damn thing to change anything.