5 Maerryl
MAERRYL
Well. That was enlightening. If a bit infuriating.
Careful not to make a sound, I slipped back into the shadows of a nearby tapestry as Lady Wistrallo swept out of the solarium and down the hall, her haughty face pleased.
I couldn’t stop myself from throwing up both middle fingers at her back.
Sure, I knew coming into this nightmare that these rich assholes would look down on me.
But goddess, that woman did not hold back.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been called dirty or stupid, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but knowing that didn’t stop the surge of indignation I felt while listening to them as I lurked outside the doorway.
I expected Dove to follow after her mother but heard no whisper of silk or the clip of heels on stone.
After a few minutes of silence from the solarium, I peered carefully around the doorframe.
Dove sat slumped on a small sofa in the middle of the plant-filled room, looking as if she’d just been wiped out from a fistfight, staring vacantly at herself in the far glass wall.
I’d love to mock her for gazing at her own beloved reflection, but it looked more like she was lost in thought, unseeing.
I almost—almost—felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Just for a split second.
But then the memory of her annoying voice pleading, trying yet again to get me fired, sprang up. What was it she’d called me? Horrible. And obtuse.
We’ll see who’s obtuse in a few weeks, princess, when our places are reversed.
Zephyra is coming for all you’ve got. Soon, I’ll be the one rolling around in coin and you’ll be on the streets begging for work.
I gleamed at the thought, ducking back into my hiding place behind the tapestry to wait for Her Majesty’s exit.
While I did, I turned over their conversation in my mind, breaking it down.
They clearly had some issues. No love lost between mother and daughter, that was for sure, which would be helpful to me.
I just had to stay on Lady Wistrallo’s good side, however awful she might be—she was obviously the one holding the power in this weird little family.
But the most interesting part was their talk of newfound talents, protection, and dangerous gifts. What I would’ve given to have seen what Dove handed her mother! It must have been relatively small, for her to conceal it in her skirts.
My first thought was a painting; these people were mad for art.
If Dove was a prodigy, they could be selling her works for gold or trading it for other pieces to add to their vast collection.
That didn’t quite work—why would they need to keep her identity a secret?
Didn’t the worth of artworks increase depending on the artist’s reputation? But still, it was a possibility.
Another answer could be that it was something magic-related.
Maybe perfect Dove had some perfect power that allowed her to spin gold from straw or some such absurdity.
Or could she be stealing from other rich folks, on social visits or through her maid?
I’d have to keep a close eye on wherever she went on visits to the city or other manors in the countryside.
Thankfully, that should prove doable, after Lady Wistrallo’s mandate tonight.
Where Dove went, I went. From here on out, we were stuck together.
Goddess, help me, I thought, rolling my eyes as I leaned against the cold wall.
Whatever this family’s secret was, a few things were very clear now.
First, Zephyra’s hunch that their suddenly revived flow of gold was something other than a dead relative’s inheritance seemed correct.
Second, it was something so coveted that Lady and Lord Wistrallo felt it required serious protection from the outside world, in the form of me, an apparently ruthless and masterful bodyguard.
And third, Dove was at the heart of it all. She had a secret—a big one. I wasn’t going to stop until I figured it out. Once I did, I’d use it. Gleefully.
I needed coin more desperately than someone like her could ever understand. My little brother counted on me, and I wouldn’t fail him.
This spoiled princess was going down.
As Dove moved toward the door, I shrank back into the dusty folds of the tapestry. She looked tired, weariness dulling the bright force that she’d radiated before. From the encounter with her mother, or from something else?
Once she was a safe distance down the hall, I followed, brushing cobwebs from my clothes and trailing silently behind as she returned to her rooms. After she’d disappeared inside, I made my way into my own bedroom and closed the door silently behind me.
An hour later, I heard Dove’s door open down the hall. Jumping up, I patted the knives strapped to my body, checking them instinctively, and strode out after her.
“Ah. You again.” She turned, sighing. She’d changed her outfit since I saw her last and now wore a trailing gown of the deepest garnet.
Still silky, still clinging lusciously to every curve.
Gold glinted among her thick curls and around her neck, a chain dipping into deep cleavage.
Was she going to a family dinner or a fancy ball?
Every hour I spent here, I discovered a new ludicrous thing about the way rich people lived.
“Still here,” I said.
“A pity.”
Dove razed me with her spiky glare. I paced closer, forcing myself to meet her eyes without scowling. You need her to trust you, I reminded myself. Maybe not like you—but trust you just enough that she won’t keep trying to sack you.
“Lady Dove,” I said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
She snapped, “We certainly did. You are a ball and chain on my foot that I would see removed.”
This brat.
I clung desperately to the feeling of calm I’d gathered over the past hour, when I’d planned what I should say to her.
“Lady, I’m here to serve and protect you.
It’s understandable if you prefer, ah, solitude.
But surely we can find an arrangement that will fulfill my duties, appease your parents, and allow for your independence. ”
“And what makes you think I give two figs about your duties?” Dove stepped closer, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes.
The hallway magelights glimmered over her smooth brown skin.
“You know nothing about me. You care nothing for me. You are a stranger, and nothing but a nuisance in my life. I will allow your presence for now, since it seems I must, but listen to me well, Miss Kirim—I am not your friend, and I do not want you here.”
“My, what a shock. Here I thought we’d be the closest of chums,” I shot back dryly, then resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth.
Dove blinked.
After a moment, she sighed and said, “Let’s just get to dinner.
I’m late. Mother will be cross.” With a slight smile that I didn’t trust, some of her combativeness slipped away.
“Though I suppose I have you to blame for that now. Convenient.” With a final sniff she twirled away and continued down the hall, leaving me to hurry after her.
When we finally reached the dining room—another overly ostentatious space, this one filled with vintage mirrors of varying sizes and styles—Lady and Lord Wistrallo were already seated and had been waiting for some time, judging by their annoyed expressions and pointed looks at the massive grandmother clock in the corner.
“Good evening, Mother, Father.” Dove slid gracefully into her seat, and a servant jumped to pour her a glass of golden wine. “Apologies for my tardiness. Miss Kirim held me up, unfortunately.”
Her parents’ attention moved to me. Under their gazes, I stood up straighter and coughed.
What was I supposed to do here? Stand and “guard” Dove while she ate?
Go to the kitchens for my meal? Unsure, I settled for standing at the wall behind my charge’s chair, trying to look the part of an impassive and unrattled bodyguard.
“A good attempt, Dovey,” Lord Wistrallo said, motioning to the servant to serve their first course. “But your struggles with punctuality far preceded Miss Kirim’s arrival.”
Lady Wistrallo turned her attention back to her daughter as the soup was served. Sighing, she said, “Darling, that gown is hardly appropriate for dinner. A bit ridiculous. You should have saved it for the Tongs’ revel this weekend.”
In front of me, Dove’s shoulders hitched slightly. She took a slow sip of soup before answering.
“You know as well as I do that we won’t be invited, Mother. We haven’t heard from the Tongs in over a year.”
“That may be so,” Lady Wistrallo said. “But I ran into Ilin at the mercery yesterday, and she was quite gracious. We had a lovely conversation.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, dear!” Lord Wistrallo said.
Dove muttered, “She was just being polite.”
“Nevertheless. I expect we’ll soon receive our invitation, and we need to make sure you have a proper gown for the occasion.”
“Then it’s convenient, I suppose, that you think this one would do. I expect it will still exist in a few days’ time,” Dove drawled, saying exactly what I’d been thinking.
Her mother frowned. “Oh, you know what I mean, Dovey. It won’t be new then.”
Sighing, Dove said, “Can we talk about something else? Please. This is giving me a headache.”
The family chattered on about mundane things as they finished their soup and moved on to some kind of charred squid dish, then a creamy pasta studded with bright violet flowers, before finally wrapping up with dangerously towering skinny cakes that looked both impossible to eat and amusingly phallic.
Maybe their gnome chef used magic to amp up her creations.
I kept my ears attuned to the family’s conversation—my job here was to gather intel, after all—but it became increasingly hard to focus as the evening dragged on and I became hungrier.