14. A Promise
Chapter 14
A Promise
T he month passed slowly but surely, time moving strangely in the realms of these Lords of Season. As time went on, she became a citizen of the Yellow Banner. There was no ceremony, nothing but the notice from her friend Lapis.
It was a special day in the month when those who worked the fields now sat upon the dais, watching their husbands toil among the wheat. Celestine sat with ladies and noblewomen of the land, seeing all the men move and fill carts, their old and young bodies straining with labor.
Tristien worked as well, in long linens without finery. Attendants served lunch.
Aidric, Captain of the Calendar Court, stood not far from them. His mirrored mask set upon Celestine.
“Power.” Lady Rosenthal raised a glass. “That’s what it is.”
Celestine turned from the Captain of the Guard. He was never not far. In her time here, even under Tristien’s attention, he always approached her each day. He rarely spoke the words, but all she needed to do was will it, and she would be spirited away.
The vessel has been molded, much like your mirrored mask Aidric. I too, reflect that which is around me.
Even Tristien did not stop her from speaking to Aidric. Perhaps it was his respect for the law. Perhaps it was proof deep down that she wanted to be here. It did not matter.
I will choose Tristien, and he knows it.
It would be a good life here. One of extravagance, one of finery.
One of punishment. But only for those willing for it.
She would take the lash and whip, the choking chain. For her people. The reflection of this place in her world would be bountiful and true. There would be darker desires fed, but there would be a choice in it all.
“What do you think, Lady Celestine?” Lapis asked.
“Soon to be Lady Solis, I think,” Lady Brint, of House Brint noted. She was a pleasant young woman, newly wed, and her husband was a handsome young lord who preferred both to bind her and to be bound by her. Likely, she would be a handmaiden at Celestine’s ceremony.
Even my friends are selected for me, just as the morsels on my plate every morning.
“I think its…” Celestine said, watching Tristien in the field. “Surrender. Not power, nor control. These are spices, but it’s what the whip strives for. Complete surrender. I’ve never felt more at ease in his arms after such torment. There is such an intimacy there…”
Lady Lapis smiled. “I agree. The tenderness is exquisite. There is nothing like the kiss of your husband’s lash or the way his eyes trace upon my body when he sees me laboring among the manor with the common slaves. “
“Speaking of,” Lady Brint interjected. “I have heard that your stables grow, Lady Suntower.”
Mira Suntower, a wife of Sir Suntower and in her early thirties, smiled. She had a harder edge than the other ladies of the Yellow Realm. “It’s true. Though Edward had little to do with it. I told him to head down to the stables to breed some of the attendants.”
“Wouldn’t then his children live outside his home?” Celestine turned to her, shocked.
Mira snorted. “No child that doesn’t come from my flesh is his true child. Just another bastard.”
“That seems…cruel.” Celestine frowned. She motioned to the necklace the lady wore. “Are these chains and yokes not adornments of devotion?”
“Surely,” Lapis said. “Except for the bonded and collared.”
Celestine thought back to her first day here, the girl in the field. Had it been a collar? No, it had been a necklace, extravagant like the ladies here. But that lord, she had met him. He had been wed.
“You would like your husband to couple with your attendants?” Celestine asked, not understanding.
Mira laughed. “If only. I ask him, time and time again, to bring one of the bitches into our bedroom so we can both enjoy her. But he won’t permit it. He is like a puppy dog with eyes only for me. Not Like Lord Solis. Surely, you two break your bonded men and women together?”
“A cruel practice,” Lapis cut her off. “You are entranced with the handle of the whip, Mira, not what it’s meant to bring.”
Mira laughed. Celestine was shocked by her rudeness. “The gold and white alabaster of your manor say otherwise. Labor is labor, and flesh is meant to be spent.”
Young Lady Brint now cut her own remark. “Such are the murmurings of your own male slave quarters. They say those doors need oiling from how much you open them in the late evenings.”
Mira stared at her. “I make no attempts to hide my needs. Have you ever felt four pairs of hands on you? Or the surprise in a burly slaves eyes when he sees you open his sleep-stall? Flesh is to be ridden.”
“You don’t worry about getting with child?” Lapis asked, eyes focused on her breakfast.
“I care not. I believe my husband enjoys it when I climb back into our bed dripping with the seed of slaves. I’ll wake him to use his mouth as my saddle.”
Celestine felt the world begin to tilt. It was a fracture in this beautiful glass she had found herself in, a chip and sin. A true sin behind the veil of this place. As she looked around, from soldier to attendant, so bonded laborer, it began to fall into place.
For all know the legend of Celestine, the Final Bride of Calendar. No matter the differences in the storytelling, she was a bride for all seasons. It was her light, the gentleness of her heart, that brought such brightness to each lord, even those of Summer. Once she had discovered the sordid dealings of the Yellow Realm and that the main export and business here was not just the crops and harvest of Summer but the forced labor and subjugation of people, she could not look away. It had stained her stay within the shadow of the Yellow Banner. Her torment was no longer just hers alone.
I have been blind.
Historians note:
What is known in every version of the tale of Celestine is that she withdrew from the luncheon, leaving the women to their entertainment and watching their lovers and husbands in the field. She was sick and ashamed. So long had her attention been upon her own courtship, the mist of Tristien’s control had clouded her perception.
It was said that Celestine took a carriage, under her control, back to the countryside. She did not attend Suncrown. Rather, she moved among the estates, in the wondrous realm of the Yellow Banner, to peer beneath and see its cruel shame.
Much like her mercy to Lord Vermilion, the wretch of the Scarlet Banners of Spring, Celestine brought mercy and compassion to the places she visited that day. Among estates, she went among the slave quarters. There was a system of gentry and attendants who were free, but the “bonded” were little more than slaves.
She found houses of bonded men and women, most often separated. Many were from far lands, others were war captives, but many she found were neither. They had been born into bondage, and they had pedigree and paperwork to prove this. She questioned attendants, who were free and followed the path of the Yellow Banner, the ways of Lord Solis, whose lives were tightly controlled by their masters and wages fair. The slaves were paid in currency, but she found no tale of freedom earned or bought.
The most shocking thing for Celestine was not the conditions of their stay. For most places, these bonded men and women were well taken care of. They simply did not possess what everyone else had: the power of choice.
That afternoon, Celestine tended to the bonded. She wrapped wounds sustained in fields, for medicae were not common. She assisted them in their labors, hoping to ease their tasks. All was for naught, she felt as if she was fighting against a relentless ocean.
On the last estate of the Rosenthals, upon taking a tour (for all were glad to host the Final Bride of Calendar) she saw something that changed everything. The bonded peoples of the Rosenthal estate had better lodgings, good food, but something shifted in Celestine. The control of Lord Solis weakened as her outrage grew. The veil began to lift. She felt the flicker of her own fire and life, honed sharply by her time in Encarmine’s realm.
A little girl laughed and ran ahead of her mother. The young woman smiled at her daughter. When the girl turned, Celestine saw the collar and ring around her neck and wept. Many attempted to console her, but the bonded were confused as to what had given her offense.
Lord Solis found her sitting aside her carriage. She pushed him away when he came to her, snarling insults at him. Such things that no servant or nobleman would dare utter. But for all things, it was agreed. Lord Solis loved her. It was not the lash or the noose he returned her insults with, but his patience.
That evening, Celestine ate in morose silence. The table was eloquently set. The food tasted like a bitter lie. Her fatigue was so deep. As was her grief, that she knew dimly it bothered Tristien.
“What can I do?” Tristien asked.
Celestine looked at him, seeing him now. Despite their games and dynamic, she knew she did not know him fully. Not every depth. As the mist cleared in her mind and heart, she thought of Encarmine, of her home, of her father. Of the land that suffered in the Painted Realm from the warring Seasons, and that she could bring at least some form of stability, even if it was brutal, it would be a brutality that her people could learn to weather.
“Free them,” Celestine said. In all her weeks here, which felt like years, she was truly angry.
“Celestine… my realm is a delicate—”
“Free them.” Celestine stared at him. “All of them.”
Celestine stood at the table, pushing her chair back. She glanced at Aidric, Captain of Calendar, who always seemed missing unless she may need him.
He, at least, is known to me. He serves something greater than herself. That mask is a key that would spirit me from this place.
Tristien’s face, for the first time in her staying there, held the touch of fear. Fear of losing her. The fear of his masterpiece leaving. To see this weakness in him brought disdain in her heart for the first time.
You trade such a sin for your own comfort, Lord of Summer.
“A wedding gift…then.” Tristien nodded. “It will change so much. But your mercy, your beauty moves me—anything you ask is yours.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Lord Solis.” Celestine stared him down, not using the name he wore for her. Perhaps her heart was moved by his agreement. Or rather, her resentment could only duel with the craving she had for him.
I have a mind to leave, yet these people would still be in bondage.
“The handle is in my hand this evening,” Celestine did not sit. “Get to the bedroom. Now.”
Tristien stood, and he followed her to their shared chamber.
Still, I must know him fully, truly fully.