4 Dove
DOVE
Remove yourself at once. Guards!” I shouted.
The other woman, standing brazenly in front of me, started and swiveled. Petra hurried over.
“She’s just joking. There are no guards,” she said to Maerryl.
To me, she gestured toward the couch and waiting array of treats.
“We brought you your afternoon tea, Dove. Miss Kirim was just helping me with the tray—I may have gone a bit overboard on the pastries today.” My maid smiled hesitantly, trying to smooth things over.
“I most certainly am not joking,” I said, directing my icy disdain toward Maerryl. “These are my private quarters. I did not invite you in. Therefore, you will leave.”
“My lady, Miss Kirim is your bodyguard now, is she not? She’ll need to have access to your rooms…” At my silence, Petra faltered, her face scrunching up in worry. “But I—I’m sorry I didn’t check with you first. I should have known.”
I softened, breaking my staring contest with Maerryl to reassure my maid. “No, no. I do not blame you in the slightest, Petra. It’s no surprise this person used you to sneak in here.” I resumed glaring at Maerryl, who was still silent but increasingly red in the face.
We stared at each other fiercely. I despised having an interloper in my rooms. This was the one place—the only place—that I could truly call my own. Even my parents didn’t come in unless invited. It was my domain, and I intended to keep it that way.
But Maerryl strolled over to the fireplace and plopped down in my favorite silk armchair.
Grabbing a scone, she peered directly at me as she poured herself a cup of tea and sat back, looking for all the world as if she was lounging in her local tavern, perfectly at ease.
Even set her dusty boots atop my lovely, hand-embroidered ottoman.
I gaped, fury rising, and tried to gather myself.
“Listen, you—you ragamuffin. How dare you take such liberties in my rooms? Leave. Now! Or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what, exactly?” Maerryl asked, taking a large bite of scone. “You heard Lady Wistrallo. I’m meant to stay near you.”
“Only because you pushed her to—to confine me to the manor! Tethered to you like some dog on a chain! What the fuck is your problem?!”
Petra squeaked behind me from where she’d drifted away in the corner. She hated confrontation.
“My problem?! Just let me do my job. Goddess! How exactly am I bothering you, sitting here?” Sounding exasperated, Maerryl crossed her arms across her chest.
I waved a hand over the scone crumbs now scattered across her lap and the floor, the tea staining the tray’s surface, and dirt smudges on my ottoman.
Over the entire frustrating, unwanted blight of her on the former peace of my rooms. My sanctuary in the chaotic world.
The memory of her tight, knowing smile earlier as she sided with my mother against me—against the slivers of independence I’d gradually carved out for myself—curdled in my stomach.
“Get. OUT OF HERE,” I near-shouted, teeth gritted.
We stared at each other fiercely, a showdown of wills.
Finally, Maerryl stood and growled, “I do not take my orders from you. Only my employer, your mother.” With the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, she added, “Ladyship.”
I opened my mouth to correct her. She should know who’s really paying her. I could still gain control of this ridiculous bodyguard situation.
And then I closed it again. I could practically hear my mother’s voice in my head. We have these rules for a reason, Dovey. For your protection. Jaw clenched, I just fumed at Maerryl.
“And how long,” I said tightly, “do you think you’ll remain in her employ if I tell her that you struck me?
” From where she hovered, I heard my maid gasp.
Stepping closer to Maerryl, I looked her up and down.
I would not be cowed by this woman, no matter how formidable and stubborn she seemed.
She would soon find I was not to be trifled with.
I said quietly, “… Or stole from me? You have the look of a thief. It wouldn’t be hard to plant something in your bedroom… for all you know, I already have.”
Breathing heavily, Maerryl froze, her eyes flashing with something that almost looked like fear. Before I could analyze it, she looked away, schooling her features and stepping back. Ignoring a strange twinge of disappointment, I thought, Good. I won this round.
“Petra, please show Miss Kirim to her own room. And no disturbances after. I will take my tea and then work until dinner. Thank you.”
Maerryl bowed sarcastically, which I didn’t even think was possible, and followed an uncomfortable Petra out the door.
As soon as it clicked shut behind them, I rushed over and sealed it by placing one palm over a decorative flower in the middle.
A familiar, comforting tingle ran over my hand, coursing across the door’s solid wood.
When everything had changed a year ago, and we got our money and our proper lives back, one of the first things I’d bought—after new silk sheets and a decade’s worth of paints, of course—was the enchantment for my suite’s doors.
I’d paid a reputable mage quite a hefty amount of coin to cast it themselves and ensure that it was secure.
No one could get in unless I lifted the spell, not even Petra.
Not even my parents. They hadn’t been happy about it, particularly Mother, but I’d stood my ground.
It was one of the first times I’d truly stood up to her and gotten my way.
I remembered feeling so proud of myself, so alive.
A bit sad, really, that it took me until age thirty to achieve that, while still living with my parents and needing a magical super-lock to feel some semblance of independence and control.
And now they’ve forced a glorified nanny upon me. A surly, glowering, uptight security dog.
At the thought, I remembered—the other door.
Musing deeply, I made my way through the sitting room and into my bedroom, moving to the far right-hand wall.
The only other entrance to my suite was here, through my extra studio.
Which these days, as Mother pointed out, served more as a storage space filled with various canvases I’d abandoned, crusted paints, smelly cans of turpentine, and old brushes I didn’t care to wash.
It used to be a spare bedroom, and I’d had the mage also lay the enchantment upon the door connecting it to my own bedroom.
At the time, I’d thought that it could be a guest room for any friends who visited me from Talon.
Or perhaps Petra could live there. It was quite spacious and got a lovely amount of light, so I thought she’d enjoy it.
I’d only hired her recently at that point, a little while after we got our fortune back, but I’d liked her instantly.
So kind and helpful, she made sense of the chaos in those days.
I’d had to let my previous maid go many months before; Mother and I had been sharing her maid, who detested me.
When I’d fixed everything and we had money again, I’d put out the word for a skilled maid of my own and found dear Petra.
We’d been close ever since. Other than Choia, who’s been our cook since I was very small, Petra was the one person in this place who I felt I could trust.
Mother, however, had said it wasn’t proper for my maid to live in such a nice room. “Nearly as grand as her mistress’s! Don’t be absurd, Dovey,” she’d said, laughing. Petra was given a small room in the servants’ quarters downstairs.
And the friends that I’d thought would visit…
I wasn’t sure they even knew I existed anymore.
Or, at least, not as anything other than fodder for the gossip mill.
I thought some might want to reconnect after we’d regained our wealth.
But so far, my letters had gone unanswered.
We received few invitations. Cut out of society, since we had to sell our city property a couple years ago.
When I traveled there these days, I shopped to my heart’s content and then returned home.
No salons; no theater; no restaurants, even—it was embarrassing enough, the judging stares and whispers whenever I ran into people from my former circles in the stores.
At least there I could show off my money.
Throw so much coin down that they shut their ugly mouths, at least until I left to return to my country manor.
Lately, Mother had prattled on about buying a grand new residence back in Talon.
She thought it would change everything. Guarantee our entrance back into society.
But she knew too well, and Father reminded her, that our reputation among creditors was so monstrously bad that it would likely be years before that might be an option.
No one knew where our newfound wealth came from.
Mother and Father had tried telling creditors that it was a massive inheritance from a long-lost relative in the Southern Isles, where her family emigrated from generations ago.
But without any official documentation to back that up, so far they hadn’t bought it.
I sighed, trying to refocus on the problem at hand. Literally. I placed my palm upon the flower on this door for a quick moment, reassuring myself that the spell was still secure. It tingled a little, and my lips curved up. No one could come in unless I decided to let them.
That confirmed, I returned to the sitting room and my waiting tea, now gone a bit cool.
Settling among all my cushions on the velvet couch, I grabbed a mint tart and my favorite pillow, tracing the intricate cerulean embroidery with one finger as I pondered the dilemma before me.
I supposed Mother would insist that I give Maerryl access to the door connecting our rooms. After all, I could practically hear her saying, what use is a bodyguard if they cannot guard one’s body?