ANNORA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Where are your things?”

It was the third time she had been asked that same question, and Annora had grown tired of answering.

After the ball, but before Annora could exchange any words of substance with her new friend, Cassen had insisted Annora return with him to Eastport where she was to retrieve her belongings. In truth it seemed he only wanted to instruct her on her responsibilities when she was away—a reminder that her new life with Ethel would not be without strings.

Cassen had been the first to ask.

“All my belongings are inside.” Annora indicated the small muslin bag containing her entire wardrobe. As Cassen dictated his lady servants dress only in silk, the few dresses, skirts, and bodices she owned took up little space, the bulk of the bag filled instead with her cotton underthings and nightdress.

“I have no doubt that will change shortly, as the young princess will likely shower you with gifts. Do not allow her to buy your trust.” Cassen looked more serious than Annora could remember.

“I will not, Mother.”

“No, I would not think that you would. You are perhaps the best suited of my daughters for this task. And you understand the most important gift that, as your mother, I have provided and will continue to provide when you are away. Safety.”

Freedom would be a far greater gift, thought Annora, but as usual, her snarky quip lost its poignancy as she recalled the truth behind his words. She could still hear with clarity the revolting sounds of joyous molestation that had come from the cabin beside her on her sea voyage to Adeltia. Had I not been Cassen’s property, I would not have arrived the same girl I’d departed as, she reminded herself.

“Yes, Mother,” Annora responded.

“Take note of any and all turmoil concerning Ethel and her family. It will serve me to know such things. And I will expect you to learn a great deal more than you have from Emrel, seeing as you will be paired with a far more willing source of information.”

Annora nodded her understanding, already uneasy at the prospect of spying on the girl she was meant to befriend.

“Oh and one last thing,” said Cassen. “If young Lady Ethel is so forward as to try and play with you…under the covers.” Cassen raised his brow. “Refuse her if you must, but please, do not bite her—at least not so hard as you did your last patron.”

As Annora rode alone in the carriage, her bag on her lap—not placed in the back as the young porter had suggested—she felt oddly displaced. She’d never been especially close with any of her fellow lady servants, but what little attachment she had made with them now tugged at her. She did not miss any one girl in particular, but the force of their collective pull made her stomach queasy. You claim to want freedom, she scolded herself, you can survive a ride alone in a carriage.

In spite of her trepidation, the trip that led her to the door of Ethel’s dormitory seemed a short one.

“These are all of my things,” said Annora in annoyance, optimistic, at least, that this would be the last time she would have to answer this question. She kept her eyes downcast courteously as she spoke to her new mistress.

“You may look at me,” said Ethel. “…I would prefer it,” she added as Annora had been slow to comply.

Annora raised her eyes to see the blushed face of the same pretty girl she remembered from the candlelit ball, but the natural light that came through the glassed ceilings of the hallway lit Ethel’s face with more detail, showing the truth of her flawless features. Had Annora not known better, she would have thought the girl had colored in concern for having embarrassed her. The depth of honesty in Ethel’s large eyes was a sight seldom seen in highborn and, for whatever reason, spurred Annora to chide herself for already acting like the spoiled friend of a princess in her previous annoyance.

“We must unpack your things to see what you are lacking,” said Ethel. “So that we may remedy it.”

The haste by which Cassen’s prediction had come true was amusing, but Annora made sure it did not show on her face. “You are most kind, but I can do with very little. I am here to serve your needs, not to burden you.”

Something about Ethel’s smile made Annora feel as though she were witnessing a rare and cherishable occurrence. “Well, I need to get you some appropriate dresses. I have arranged for you to attend my classes with me.”

Annora had been surprised by the quaintness of the room she was to share with Ethel. Though it was easily large enough for the two of them, the modest room had little in the way of suggesting its occupant was daughter to the heir. The walls were adorned with thick flocked paper of a raised floral pattern, blossoms of pinkish taupe trimmed in white. The curtains, too, were of a fine make, but the window frames were old and weathered, the paint cracking, and the two small beds were no more than thin mattresses on stout wooden frames.

The heir’s adopted daughter, Annora reminded herself. There seemed the potential for misstep in every spoken word due to Ethel’s intricate family structure, and Annora’s carefulness to avoid insult manifested itself in her remaining mostly silent.

“We will have to see a mender,” Ethel teased. “We are in need of a tonic to loosen your tongue.”

Annora smiled and nodded as her response. There was no malice in her words. In fact, it seemed Ethel spoke out of a new nervousness. The hour they’d spent unpacking Annora’s things and looking through Ethel’s prized possessions—most of them books of little interest—had gone by quickly. They were now headed to eat, something Annora was quite thankful for. Her appetite had come to her in force after receiving such a warm welcome from Ethel, putting her at ease, and she was eager to sample the castle’s delicacies.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It took a moment for her to realize Ethel spoke of the glass ceilings Annora’s upward glance had lingered upon. The light came through in pastel pink and dark blue, the clear midday light transformed to those of the setting Dawnstar. It was made even more impressive by the fact that the glass itself was not flat but curved to form a dome that ran the length of each hallway.

“How do they color the glass?” Annora asked, regretting having asked such a childish question.

“I do not know. Berries perhaps,” said Ethel with a shrug, though her expression did not lack interest. “Our lessons do not teach us things of relevance. Mostly they are instructions on how to better attract noble men of worth. And yet the girls who do poorest in class tend to garner the most attention.”

“How do you do?” asked Annora. “In your classes,” she was quick to specify.

“I do very well in my classes,” said Ethel with a snicker. “And in turn do rather poorly elsewhere.”

Annora would not have believed her had she not seen how alone Ethel was at the ball, and she was not about to contradict her by pointing out that she had been pursued by the king.

As if on cue, a group of three young men made their way toward her and Ethel from the opposite end of the hall. Of various heights and builds, all three of them appeared confident and strong in their own way—a disarming revelation as Annora realized she could not remember the last time she had considered being courted by anyone other than a disgusting old man whose advances she would do everything in her power to reject. As they neared, Annora had difficulty determining whether their shared strut was exaggerated or if that was indeed how young men, slender in waist, broad in shoulder, and strong of hip, actually walked.

Each of them either smirked with confidence or raised a brow as they walked past, bursting to laughter shortly thereafter.

“What was that about?” Annora asked.

“Just fool boys,” said Ethel. “And they should not even be in here.”

There were no boys in the dining hall they eventually came to, though it was difficult for Annora to believe so much noise could be created by only ladies-in-training. Rows of wooden tables with simple chairs spanned the length of the room, tables that looked oddly bare to Annora with no cloth, plates, or cutlery arranged upon them. Their only contents were tall shaded candles, placed at regular intervals and unlit.

She followed Ethel to stand in line at the head of the room where large chafing dishes, some steaming and others spotted on the outside with condensation, sat upon the few tables that were clothed.

“Not what you were expecting?” asked Ethel.

Indeed it was not, but Annora merely shrugged. The suppers served by Cassen when the lady servants returned in the evening were nothing like this. Their plates were brought to them by boy servants, a single course, but artfully prepared. Flowers, candles, a glass of wine, water in a cellar-chilled stein, a fork, a spoon, two knives, butter, and bread was present in front of each seat.

“They say it is to instill humility. …Ah, this is my favorite.” Ethel placed a large spoonful of stew on her metal plate. Annora was surprised, half expecting Ethel, dainty as she was, to eat no more than vegetables. Mirroring Ethel, Annora filled her plate with the same portions of food. The meaty stew, a piece of soft yellow bread, half a spoon of lumpy, buttery potatoes, and a full spoon of loose corn that she hoped was sweet.

“This way,” said Ethel after they had retrieved their cutlery.

Having noticed Ethel’s demeanor had gone from eagerness to stoicism and her pace had quickened, Annora surveyed the room to see that nearly everyone was looking at them—more specifically at her.

Annora did not think herself one to be intimidated, especially not by pompous highborn girls, but the weight of so many eyes was oppressive. She walked with Ethel, wishing she was not moving so fast, as it only served to make them appear more diffident. Nonetheless, Annora wore what she believed was an expression of confidence and kept in stride. At seventeen she was older than most of these girls, and she was not about to be baited to blunder.

Her poise was not having the intended effect, however, as many of the girls who stared at her gave way to poorly concealed laughter. How it was that she felt less secure in a room full of harmless girls than she had in the home of a would-be rapist, Annora could not explain, but she was desperate to be seated, preferably far from the oglers.

“Be careful,” said Ethel, looking worried, but her words made little sense, and Annora’s head felt wrapped in wool.

Ethel finally sat down near the end of the dining hall, Annora content to sit beside her.

“I will get us some water and napkins,” said Ethel.

“I’ll come with you.” Annora had no desire to face that walk again, but she also did not wish to show any sign of weakness. When Ethel’s eyes went to her chest, Annora felt a surge of heat flood her. She looked down as well to see the line of brown stew sauce that had stained her dress. Annora had believed the girls stared and laughed because she was the only one in silk, all others dressed in simple cotton, but she must have been clutching her plate tight to her chest, ignorant to the fact that she was ruining her most expensive garment. Annora nodded.

Ethel had only just left her, yet it felt as though Annora had been sitting alone for an eternity. This is idiotic, she told herself. I am not a blushing girl in need of support. She believed herself to have calmed after forcing a deep breath, but true relief only came when she saw Ethel returned with a comforting look on her face

“We have all done it. The plates are so shallow. I’m an imbecile for not warning you.” Ethel dipped a cloth napkin in her glass of water and handed it to Annora.

In time, the stain was reduced to a mild blotch, difficult to see without knowing it was there, but the dress was still ruined.

“Now you cannot protest when I insist you get more clothes.”

“I suppose you are right,” Annora agreed, realizing she was thankful for Ethel’s ability to find a reason to celebrate a near calamity. Remembering how the girl had sparred with Cassen, however, Annora resolved to not underestimate her.

Annora put a piece of the bread in her mouth, determined to start pleasant conversation when her chewing was done. “Do you see your parents often?” Annora forced herself to ask upon realizing she had swallowed the bread, too busy thinking of what to say to have made note of the taste.

“No. Not as often as I would like. My mother comes to visit about once a month, my father as often as every week. Whenever he is summoned to the Throne.”

Annora assumed she was speaking of Alther. There was no cordial way of gaining clarification on the matter.

“What was life like in the Spicelands. Do you remember it well?” asked Ethel.

This was not a topic Annora wished to discuss, especially not in public, but they were so far down the table that none were near enough to eavesdrop.

“I am sure it is little different than what you have heard.” Annora did not believe that to truly be the case, but it seemed more polite than accusing her mistress of ignorance.

“I have books that say your people are savages, that they fight naked with each other using wooden spears, and marry hundreds of wives.”

Annora finished a mouthful of corn, delightfully sweet as she’d hoped. “Do your books speak of any people other than your own that are not savages?”

Ethel paused to think, then smiled. “You have a point, but I still wish to hear the truth.”

“Our men can be savage, and they fight with spears, as do the men of this kingdom if I am not mistaken. But not in the nude…not unless it is very hot.”

Annora feigned seriousness for a moment, then showed a trace of a grin causing Ethel to almost spit out her water.

Having recovered, Ethel pursued further. “Do they really marry so many wives?”

The way in which she asked let Annora know how abhorrent the prospect was to Ethel. What would you think of me if you knew I once wished to be one of those wives? “Our kings marry many.”

Annora put a blind spoonful of food in her mouth. It was her adversary, the stew, which was actually quite good. The meat was tender and the broth was rich with flavor. She could not say for sure if she would ever have the courage to get it again, nor anything with such potential to spill over the edges of these plates.

Ethel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I did not believe it when I read it. Hundreds even?”

“I am sure on some island there is a king with near a hundred wives.”

Ethel shook her head, disapproving, and Annora felt strangely offended. “And your kings, do they not share beds with multiple women? Is it less offensive that they do not call them wives?”

A sickening wave of self-reproach immediately swept Annora. It might have been a perfectly appropriate question, had Ethel’s grandfather not been the king. Annora could scarcely believe she had been goaded into such a gaffe during harmless conversation.

“I am sorry,” Annora said before Ethel could respond, looking downward and finding her appetite had left her.

“You should be,” said Ethel. “But only for apologizing. And you are right. Our kings are little different it would seem. I am naïve for having believed otherwise.”

They sat unspeaking for a good while, both picking at their food but not eating much. Annora broke the silence, answering questions that Ethel surely would have liked to ask. She had no desire to, but it did not feel right, already being so indebted to someone she had just met and was supposed to serve.

“I was thirteen when my father sold me to Cassen.”

Ethel looked dismayed. “Sold you?”

“I do not know what else you would call it. My father received a heavy purse, and I was shipped here with no say in the matter.”

It was Ethel’s turn to be apologetic, but she did so without words.

“It was possibly for the best. Cassen treats us like daughters, that much is true. I have a better life here.”

Ethel nodded in solidarity and did not press her further, nor did Annora offer more explanation. It had not been her intent to gain Ethel’s pity, and having done so made her feel somehow dishonest. Truth be told, she pitied Ethel. Her complete lack of friends was evident at this point. Annora could not help but wonder how difficult these meals must have been for her, forced to come here without companionship, sitting alone at the end of a table as far from the stares and teasing as she could get. Dining here with a friend was hard enough.

“Your father may have done such a thing, but you are not Cassen’s property. Slavery is forbidden in these lands, and no man can own a woman.”

No, thought Annora. Nor can naivety be cured during a single meal. She smiled in thanks at the sentiment.