11. The Test
The Test
T wo weeks later, Mila woke and sensed two very important things had changed. The first was that something was very different about Jezebel’s mood. She was nervous and subdued and wouldn’t respond when Mila inquired why. It worried her, and Mila knew she needed to figure out the reason quickly.
She couldn’t blame it on Worship Day. That was tomorrow, and even though Jezebel resented sitting in the Grand Cathedral for hours, listening to Abbott drone on, she’d never been nervous about attending the weekly sermon.
Could it be the weather? Mila wondered. The spring was pressing on and these specific weeks in the season were known as The Build-Up, easily identifiable by the near-constant, oppressive humidity that never allowed a storm to bring relief. It was uncomfortable to do much of anything during these weeks. Perhaps that was contributing to Jezebel’s mood? But no. Why should that make her nervous? If anything, the weather had created more stability and routine to Jezebel’s days. An early morning walk around the palace gardens before the crippling humidity struck, a nap in the heat of the afternoon, and then socialising during the evening after the intense wall of humidity built like clockwork just before sundown. No storm though. Stormweek would come later in the season, right before summer.
No. None of these were satisfactory reasons for Jezebel’s nervous mood, and Mila’s ignorance made her stressed.
The second important thing she realised, was that she’d finally awoken without the searing burn of pain behind her eyes.
Her body had finally adjusted to the lack of rubane and was no longer punishing her for its absence.
Sweet, blessed relief – finally.
In fact, over the past week, she felt as though she were being rewarded in more ways than one for her patience. She’d steadily gained more control over her power and was now able to sense Jezebel and her surroundings with far less effort. On top of this, Jezebel now seemed to have grown accustomed to Mila’s dutiful, quiet, constant presence. The result was a few lapses in her security, including letting the lead fall to the ground during her most recent dinner. Mila knew that as she gained the woman’s favour and trust, lapses like this would happen more and more often. All she needed to do was wait for one she could exploit.
Mila had anticipated most of these changes happening eventually, but what she could not have predicted was Jezebel’s growing enjoyment of Mila’s company. Since composing limericks in the bathroom, Jezebel now spoke to Mila directly and even occasionally explained things when Mila asked questions. She never asked Mila for her opinion, and regular meals were still not guaranteed, but the lack of food seemed to stem more from Jezebel’s short attention span, rather than a malicious desire to starve her new pet. In fact, Mila noticed a curious instance of Jezebel glancing across at her whenever the princess was being funny or clever, as though, now that she’d acknowledged that Mila was intelligent, she wanted to be acknowledged as such in return. Mila’s small rebellion came in the way she made a point of never giving Jezebel such recognition, not unless she was ordered to do so. It was the one semblance of autonomy she still retained, and she was determined not to relinquish it easily.
* * *
The mystery of Jezebel’s nervous mood prevailed as they headed out on their scheduled morning walk, and although Mila was determined to figure out the cause, she couldn’t help but be distracted by the beauty of the gardens. The sudden absence of her rubane headache made her feel as though she was able to truly see and appreciate them for the first time.
The use of the word ‘garden’ to describe the horticultural marvel that Midas’s gardeners had managed to create over a mere forty years was an insult. It was enormous, and the vast area was divided into segments that represented every single specimen of flora that could be found across the vast and diverse regions of Artor. Along the eastern side, where they walked today, Mila discovered with delight that it had been planted with the rich, tropical flora that dominated large swaths of her home in the rainforest Highlands.
Around them, stood the towering, hundred-year-old bayan trees that had been carefully uprooted from their original homes and now lined the marble pathway. Despite the heat, the thick branches and unusual roots of the huge trees managed to create a cool walkway with their shadows. The sight of them made her powerfully homesick, and for a brief moment, Mila couldn’t help but reminisce about her own beautiful cottage.
It sat nestled between a sister-pair of huge bayan trees that, over time, had come to grow around, and seemingly embrace, the small, sweet cottage. The thick roots, which grew downwards from the lowest hanging branches on the trees, acted as pillars that protected her house from the elements and also created small alcoves where she’d been able to clamber up and sit to meditate in the mornings before the cooler air submitted to the humidity.
Inside was largely bare of any furniture that she had not painstakingly created herself from the foraged wood of fallen trees. Her windowsills were overrun with small plants, which had simple energies. Mila could easily sense their needs with little drain on her body, and she’d delighted in giving them what they needed in order to grow to their full potential – be it more or less sunlight, or more or less water. Her attentiveness had been rewarded by being bathed daily in their content and pragmatic energy.
Her cottage lacked the usual human smells of babies, chewing tobacco and rubbish. Instead, it smelled primarily of smoke, herbs and sweet florals. The rubane she’d smoked daily had an earthy, nutty aroma that complemented the concoction, but the pretty weed itself grew prolifically around the outside stones, turning red, yellow and pink as the seasons changed. It was beautiful. She missed it desperately.
With a semblance of hope, she considered looking for it in these gardens. It was a Highland native plant, after all, so if it would be anywhere in the palace, it would be in this area. But it was a weed, so perhaps it hadn’t made the cut.
Her visualisation was broken by Jezebel’s sharp “Well? Isn’t that funny?”
“It is,” Mila agreed smoothly, although she had no idea what had been said. She brought her attention back to the princess. The golden lead to her collar continued to dangle loosely between Jezebel’s fingers, and the new Guard of the Body followed, always a few paces behind, holding himself taut as a drawn bow, ready to intervene if his princess’s demon decided to turn on her. Mila sensed his never-ending nervousness for the tenth time that day and sighed. Attacking Jezebel in that moment was the furthest thing from her mind, and the guard’s anxiety was ruining the otherwise unusually peaceful morning.
“I need to relieve myself,” Jezebel abruptly announced, and Mila’s stomach tightened as she watched the princess tie the end of the lead to a nearby bench before walking off in the direction of the garden lavatory.
The guard seemed as confused as Mila. He hesitated for half a second before finally deciding to follow the princess. Despite the questionable wisdom of leaving a demon alone in the garden, his duty was to protect Jezebel at all times.
Mila was alone.
Her breathing tripled in pace. This had never happened before. Was now the moment she’d been waiting for? It seemed too good to be true.
Incredulously, Mila watched the princess and the guard depart. As soon as their figures were out of sight, she turned and inspected the knot. It was loose and performative. Mila could have yanked on the loop half-heartedly and it would have come undone.
It set off alarm bells in her head. Something about this wasn’t right.
Mila closed her eyes and sent her power out into the garden, pushing past the immediate energy of the dense surrounding vegetation and exploring deeper amongst it.
There.
A human…no, two humans. Courtiers spying on her, waiting to see what she’d do.
Well, at least the cause of Jezebel’s mood was now revealed. This had been a test, and a timely reminder that Jezebel might be spoiled, cruel and vain, but she was certainly not stupid, and it would be dangerous to assume that she did not suspect Mila of plotting to escape.
So, instead of tugging at the knot, Mila sighed and made a show of sitting comfortably on the bench to wait like an obedient pet, fanning herself as the surrounding din of crickets denied her even a moment of peace and quiet.
Patience had always been her strong suit, and she knew that earning Jezebel’s trust now would be invaluable for her future plans. And she had time, she still had two months.
Jezebel and the guard returned. She tried to keep her face neutral, but Mila was so well tuned to her now that the princess could not disguise the energy of joy and relief that rose when she saw Mila waiting dutifully for her return.
“Good girl,” Jezebel said happily, and the condescending phrase suddenly triggered in Mila an old memory.
“Mila is such a good girl.” They had all said about her. Her family, her village, the acolyte… She’d loved the praise, lived for it. But none of it had mattered on the morning she’d awoken as a thirteen-year-old and found that she could suddenly grow horns and feel the energy of the household. Mila was momentarily awash with memories – the way her sister had screamed and how her mother’s face had turned ashen grey. The way her father had smashed things, and for the first time in her life, Mila had been afraid of him, afraid he might convince himself that he could somehow beat the taint out of her…
Push it away.
Mila shut her mind down and forced the memories out of her head. Jezebel was looking at her expectantly, and Mila knew that she would not be able to keep the pain off her face if she allowed herself to remember that morning in more detail .
“Highness?” She forced herself to look up innocently, acting as though she was confused by Jezebel’s praise, as though an escape attempt hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Jezebel said nothing more but glowed happily at the response and turned to continue down the garden path.
Mila had passed the test.