22. Hevva eats crab.
twenty-two
Hevva eats crab.
R eturn home. Find a nice common boy.
Return home. Find a nice common boy.
Return home. Find a nice common boy.
Riding with her head pressed against the carriage window, vibrations rattled Hevva’s teeth in comfortable discomfort. She sat in that manner for a long while, watching the world jostle past.
Return home. Find a nice common boy.
If the lady let herself think any other thoughts, she would begin to sob again. Her eyes were already bloodshot and swollen, and she didn’t even know if there were any tears left in her body. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t heave, and sniffle, and make the most unbecoming faces of sadness. Luckily, her maid was used to it.
They were about two hours outside of Serkath, heading northeast, back home to Stormhill. It was the sixth day of the house party. Two more, packed with events, remained. Hevva was positive Aylin wanted nothing more than to learn each and every sordid detail behind their abrupt late-afternoon departure. But Hevva wasn’t ready to open up, so Aylin said nothing about the issue that quite clearly existed. After almost twenty-five years of service, from nursemaid to lady’s maid, she knew the drill.
Finally, sometime later, Hevva pulled away from the window and slumped back against the silver upholstered seat. “I just need to go back home and find a nice common boy. Don’t you agree?”
“As you desire, my lady.”
“Yes.” Hevva’s eyes unfocused for several moments before she continued, “Someone who will be elated to marry me, to love me. Someone who wants to move up in the world by joining me, being at my side, caring for my people.”
Aylin bobbed her head.
“No more titles!” Hevva slapped her thigh.
The maid raised a brow in question.
“Never again. The nobility bring nothing but scheming and dramatics. Don’t you agree?”
Aylin eyed her pointedly. She wouldn’t be answering that. Instead, she pulled her needle through the silk kerchief she was working on and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
How the woman embroidered while jostling about in a carriage was beyond Hevva’s comprehension.
“No,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. The show of petulance did little to help her mood. An anxious bubble took up residence in her throat, unmoving, pulsing in time with her heart.
Return home.
Find a nice common boy.
Aylin knew all about Saka & Berim at the symposium, including the lighter elements of their meeting in the salon during the closing gala. But her maid had only been privy to the most basic details of the first unfortunate night in Serkath, when Hevva got foxed and made a fool of herself. For some reason, she hadn’t wanted to tell her maid anything more about the king, which was abnormal, to be sure. For a while there it felt...fragile, something to keep tucked away for herself. Now, however, she was ready to talk—needed to. So Hevva filled Aylin in on the rest of that particular evening in the wine cellar, including her embarrassing confession regarding missing Berim.
“Hmm, I see.” Aylin nodded thoughtfully.
“What? ”
“Nothing. Please . . . What happened next?”
Aylin didn’t know about the re-creation of Rohilavol, or the impromptu proposal, so Hevva gave her the details. Well, most of them. She left out the finer points from the bedroom, focusing on the conversation more than anything else.
“Lady Hevva, truly?”
She blinked slowly into Aylin’s dark eyes.
“Humor me a moment.” Aylin set her needlework aside and leaned forward on her knees. The motion was a sure sign she’d entered friendship-territory, taking off her metaphorical maid’s cap. “The king hosted a house party to find a wife, under the guise of celebrating his brother’s birthday. He invited you—”
“And many other eligible women.”
Aylin gave her a flat look before continuing, “Then, on the first night of celebrations, he abandoned the party to seek you out, hunted for you in his own palace, aided you in a time of need—”
“That’s a very nice way of putting it.”
“You’re quite welcome. Then, you’re telling me the next night, he surprised you with an entire magical street, and he offered a proposal of marriage, all without once saying he loves you?”
Hevva frowned and shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.” A tear leaked down her cheek. “He said that love causes nothing but trouble in marriages!”
“But he proposed?! What does he think a marriage is? Solely political?”
“I don’t know!” Hevva tossed her hands in the air, then smacked her knees in frustration. “It is more complicated than that now. This was all before I learned the depths of their great-uncle’s scheming. And, oh! I detest this!”
“I’m sorry, Hevva. It sounds to me he’s stuck between a bit of a rock and a hard place.”
“Unlike me”—Hevva sighed sarcastically—“right?”
Her maid smiled. Then she leaned forward and squeezed the countess’s knee. “All will be well in time, my dear. Now tell me...what happened next?”
T hey pulled into an inn, not long after dark, for their final night on the road. The summer eve was still and heavy and spoke of a storm to come.
“I cannot wait to get home tomorrow. Don’t you agree, my lady?” Aylin inquired as they alighted.
“Mm, sure,” Hevva replied listlessly.
Aylin handled checking the pair into their room, and they ascended the stairs. The lady was coaxed into a fresh bath and left to scrub herself clean. Hevva never wanted or needed the assistance, though it wasn’t unheard of for a noble to be next to incapable in the washroom—maybe they preferred being rubbed down by others. Who was to say?
The bath offered no distraction from her spiraling thoughts. As the water swirled down the drain, Hevva wished she could make herself small and be whisked away through the plumbing.
When at last she emerged, Aylin clothed the ghost of a girl in a deep blue dinner dress. The maid used her magic to ring the water from the countess’s hair before she brushed it smooth. “How would you like me to style it?”
Hevva shook her head. “It’s fine like this.”
Aylin inclined her head in agreement, then began smoothing Hevva’s hair into a simple, low bun at the nape of her neck. It wasn’t actually fine as it was, and her maid was astute enough to handle the situation.
“Will you dine with me tonight?” she asked softly.
“Of course, my lady.”
So, they descended together, as friends rather than employer and employee.
During their second course of chicken and plum pudding, two young women from the village bustled into the dining room and were soon seated at the table beside them .
“I simply cannot believe it,” the blonde one lamented.
“Oh, me neither. I heard he is very handsome. And I know he would never consider someone like us, from here...”
“Quite.” The blonde’s tone was solemn.
The brunette sipped her wine. “Mother says I should look for a nice, titled young man, ‘Elevate the family.’”
“Mine does, too.”
“But how are we to do that,” the brunette whined, “when the eligible titled gents are all getting engaged to the eligible titled ladies?”
The blonde shrugged. “I hardly think either of us had a chance with King Hethtar anyway. But he seems so nice , and to hear he is betrothed to the daughter of an earl, it just makes you think: What hope is there for girls like us?”
“I could not agree more. It is such a shame.”
Hevva blanched and choked on a bite of her supper. The deadened, energy consuming wound in her chest throbbed painfully before spewing forth a torrent of unmanageable emotion. With it came the coughed-out words, “I am not feeling well.”
Aylin dipped her chin.
They retreated to their room, and the moment the maid closed the door, Hevva sank onto her knees. Great sobs wracked her slender body as she pressed her head down into the carpet.
Abruptly, Hevva stood and fled into the washroom where she dropped back to her knees to have a retch into the commode.
Aylin stepped up behind her and drew back the countess’s hair. She held it in place while Lady Hevva emptied the contents of her stomach.
“I must have had some crab.”
“Of course you did, my dear.”
T he final morning of travel dawned gray and grew darker as the day bore on. They were about two hours from Stormhill, more if the storm got worse. Then, the skies opened up in earnest, and the storm did in fact get worse.
“Aylin?” Hevva asked shakily, her forehead pressed against the glass as she watched the rivulets rush down the pane. They were about three hours from Stormhill, less if the weather got better.
“Yes?”
“How long have you been with Thera?”
“Oh, well over twenty years now,” she replied with a dreamy smile as she thought of her beloved wife.
“And how did you know?”
“That I wanted to marry her?”
“That it was love.”
“Oh.” Aylin sighed. “That is quite a difficult question. In hindsight it was quite clear that we loved one another from the first moment we met, when she joined the staff at Stormhill.”
Hevva couldn’t help the small smile that flitted across her face at her maid’s candid joy in the happy memory. It didn’t slaughter her sadness, but it helped a bit. “Tell me about it?”
“I would love nothing more. It was a horribly rainy spring day, much like this.” She gestured out the window. “But much, much colder.”
Hevva nodded, gazing out through the glass at nothing as her friend spoke.
“The mail coach dropped poor Thera so far down the hill, she had to trudge up to the manor in the pouring rain. She fell, not too far from the house, but she twisted her ankle horribly. I didn’t know this of course. So, when Thera finally found the kitchens, she staggered in looking like a drowned rat. And, well, it was nearly supper, you see. I was below stairs, getting food for you , in fact, when the door banged open.
“The old cook shouted for the new arrival to shut out the rain, and Thera did. Then she staggered over to the table, where the duke and duchess’s first course was being plated. I stood there frozen, like a fool, half a spoonful of potatoes hovering between the tureen and the plate, staring at her. She was so beautiful, even in that state. With her long black hair and dark eyes. I nearly fainted, my lady.”
Hevva chuckled. “Then what happened?”
“Why, then, she started to fall! I didn’t know she was injured of course, so what I saw—what we all saw—was a rather drunk looking vagrant stumbling in, covered in mud, who set about messing up the duke’s dinner! Thera tipped forward and braced herself. I think she meant to grab for the edge of the table, but she overshot, and one hand went into the carrots and another into the jelly! Cook screamed, I dropped the potatoes and rushed down the length of the table to shove her away.”
“Shove!?”
“Yes! I was new on staff, you were just a baby! I was trying to impress Cook, trying to earn my place. And when I did reach the intruder...oh, my lady, pardon me, but I pushed her back with both of my hands. Then I realized I’d pressed them right against her big bubbies.” Aylin roared with laughter, tears leaking down her rosy cheeks at the now very funny memory.
“Oh, gods, Aylin!” She chortled. “That is too much.”
“It gets worse.” The gods sent down a perfectly timed rumble of thunder to rattle their carriage.
“No!” she played into the drama.
“Oh, yes, Thera fell back onto her bottom, screaming—of course—because her ankle was broken. But I didn’t know that yet. I thought she was angry at me! So, I yelled at her, and she at me, until we finally realized the miscommunication. I helped her to her feet, getting covered in jelly and veg in the process, and she hobbled over to a chair.” Aylin gazed out of the window, a look of peaceful nostalgia on her face. “I bandaged her ankle. We talked for hours that night—after I brought you your supper.”
Hevva smiled wistfully, remembering her first real meeting with Ehmet, at the symposium, their first true conversation in the solarium at Hewran Hall, their time with the H-children, the night at the fair, their rendezvous in the royal salon. Oh, how things have gone so dreadfully wrong. She blinked back a tear.
Aylin went on to tell Hevva how her love for Thera kindled over the passing months. Everything culminated late one night in early fall, when they’d finally shared a kiss in the gardens. The women went on to court privately for years, until certain that their relationship was acceptable to the duke and duchess. Then, with their employers’ blessing, Aylin and Thera had their handfasting on the grounds of Stormhill itself.
“I remember the ceremony, with enormous purple and pink flowers, and the long shiny ribbon.”
Aylin smiled. “A child’s recollection.”
She had to agree. “Still, I cannot believe I’ve never asked you the full story. I am so happy you found each other.” A sudden thought struck her. “I know you are always happy to travel with me, to Kabuvirib or wherever life takes me, but Aylin...”
“Yes, my lady?”
“When I eventually marry, and relocate to Kabuvirib full time, I won’t force you to join me.”
“Oh?”
“I won’t terminate you, either. If you would be interested, I am certain a position can be found for you at Stormhill, something of your choosing?”
“That is very kind of you, my lady.”
“I know Thera is on track to become the head housekeeper in the next few years, and I would not separate you, or ask you to choose between Kabuvirib and home.”
“Hevva, really, you are too kind.”
“Then it is settled!” She clapped her hands, a glimmer of the old her shining through. It was short lived. Her spirits soon plummeted again, and she leaned back with a heavy sigh. She’d requested that story for a reason. For gods sakes, she’d never gotten ill over a man before. Sure, she shed a bucket of tears over Gamil, and a few over short dalliances here and there. But vomited? Never. “What made you know, Aylin?”
“Know what?”
“That it was love and not only lust?”
“So many things. I think it was the way she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, or the way I could listen to her speak and never tire of the sound of her voice. Every word she says is of interest to me, even now, all these years on. She’s kind and caring. She will give the world to anyone before she thinks of herself. She’s so very funny, and beautiful— Have I said that yet?
“When we argue, I never want to leave. I always want to stay and resolve the problem. She is my other half, my reason for being, my very best friend. When we are on the outs, I feel an emptiness in the pit of my stomach that I cannot erase. No amount of alcohol, or shouting, or pining will fix the situation, I need to be beside her. I don’t exactly know how to explain it. I love her. I...I simply do.”
Hevva pulled her lips into a sad, quivering smile before gazing again upon the dreary afternoon thunderstorm. She had a dull ache in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away. It had been over a month .
It started after the symposium, had faded for a while, for those few blissful hours at Kirce...before he’d proposed and said he wasn’t looking for love. Then, it came back in full force. The first debacle with Lady Tahereh only made it worse. The news of Kashoorcih’s meddling...that was a crushing blow. Learning of the betrothal from Ehmet turned the initial muted throb into a raging, raw, painful wound. And when confirmation had come to the inn, she’d crumpled and upturned the contents of her stomach.
Hevva said no to his proposal, and she meant it. She had no intention of marrying without love, it was critical to her. The problem was, she’d never been in love...right?
She’d never been in love, so she wasn’t sure what to look out for. Hevva didn’t know the signs. And it wasn’t exactly something she could ask her brother Kas to read about in a book and report back on. That’s why she’d asked Aylin for her story.
That aching gnaw in Hevva’s gut robbed her of breath when confirmation struck. She felt just as Aylin had described.
Ehmet was kind and caring. She found him charming and interesting. She respected his quiet empathy, and his booming laugh. His fresh perspective on ruling Selwas, the clear love he held for his people. Hevva could, and had, happily listened to him speak for hours. She loved his silly side, the way he’d carried her about in Rohilavol and, well, everything they got up to as Saka and Berim. He’d made her choose, but deep down she knew he was Ehmet the whole time. He fulfilled her in a way she had not expected to find. Now that they were “on the outs,” now that they were impossible , she had a pit in her stomach that refused to go away.
“Oh, no.” Shit. It was exactly as she feared.
“What is it, my lady?”
“I think I love him.”