11 Dove
DOVE
By the time we left the priory, I’d been stuffed full of pecan shortbread and tea, my head was spinning, and I was seriously questioning whether I should ever leave the manor estate again.
The golden light of the afternoon washed over the forest path as Lightning took me back home.
Somehow, the morning seemed to have slipped deep into the afternoon.
I thought back over everything that had happened in this strange day.
The race across the grounds, the village shopping, the old man spitting at my feet, the icy shock of what he’d told me.
My ridiculous rush to prove… something. To him, the villagers, Maerryl. Myself.
The unassuming beauty of the priory, and the serenity that trickled over me the longer we stayed there. My conversation with Prioress the Elder and their absurd request that I give the orphans painting lessons.
It’s not so absurd. I do have the supplies, I suppose. Perhaps they’d enjoy it.
Perhaps I’d enjoy it too.
I snuck a look at my bodyguard. She was quiet, unusually so.
And now that I thought of it, she’d also been mostly silent while we were at the priory.
A reprieve from her tiresome commentary, to be sure, but still a bit odd.
She probably had a nice laugh with the acolytes about me when she ducked out of the room.
The rich twit’s going to drag me here every other day to try her hand at teaching now.
Haven’t those orphans been through enough?
My grip tightened around the leather reins.
“So what did you get up to earlier? You were gone for ages,” I threw out, looking straight ahead.
“Took a while to track down that acolyte the prioress sent me to find. Orinno. Then we had to sort out the plan for your class. And since my lady mistress’s shenanigans meant we skipped lunch, he was kind enough to show me the kitchens and share a meal.”
“Charity work is not shenanigans,” I shot back. “And sharing an idle meal with this Orinno does not fall within your scope of duties. You’re my bodyguard. What if I had been attacked?”
“Ahh, and here I thought you were trying to get rid of me,” Maerryl said. I blustered, and she went on, “Besides, who’s going to try attacking you in a priory? No one would be stupid enough to do that.”
I ignored her. We had reached the estate now, and Lightning headed directly into the stable.
I handed him off to the stablemaster and made my way to the servants’ entrance of the manor, grabbing an ouillo as I passed through the kitchens.
Maerryl trailed after me, still seeming half lost in thought, and headed off upstairs.
I tried to do the same, begging off Choia’s questions until later, but she gave me that look of hers that told me she’d brook no nonsense. Sitting on the stool she pointed to, I sighed deeply and flopped forward on the counter, burying my head on my arms.
“Now, where have you been all day, dear? Petra’s in a right state.
I managed to cover with your mother—told her I sent you gathering fruit from the orchard—but I can’t tell you I wasn’t a bit worried myself.
” Choia chopped onions as she spoke, and I propped my chin up to watch her flying blade.
My eyes didn’t water. Like her, I’d spent more than enough hours in the kitchens to build up a tolerance since she’d joined our household when I was a young girl.
Choia was like family to me. For as long as I could remember, being around this small, tough gnome was one of the only times I felt truly like myself. I’d sneak off to the kitchens, and she’d ply me with tea and snacks, or we’d talk about our days and things that needed doing on the estate.
I’d complain to her about how obnoxious my friends were being, cry when Mother and Father made me feel small and horrible, update her on my lessons, and Lightning, and the latest dramas of the society set.
She’d set me to work peeling vegetables, or handing her tools as she decorated a cake, anything to keep me occupied—no idle hands in her kitchens, she said, except at tea time.
She’d show me her latest culinary innovations and teach me how to do simple tasks that most nobles would turn up their noses at.
I certainly did at times, and she’d shoo me away whenever I was in what she called “a snoot.” It happened more often than I cared to admit, though less and less as the years went by.
And she always let me back in with a hug and a gentle slap on the arm when I returned hours or days later, penitent and willing to help.
Around Choia, I felt accepted. Understood. Loved. Sometimes it seemed like she loved me more than my own parents did.
And often, I also felt the same, as terrible as that sounded.
Now, she pushed a knife and pile of zucchini toward me, and I got to chopping as I caught her up on the events of the day.
Her eyebrows moved higher and higher as I talked, until they practically reached her wild ginger hair.
Wrapping up the tale, I groaned spectacularly and said, “And now, I suppose, I’m to play art teacher there three times a week.
Until the children mutiny, of course, and run me out of the priory. I wouldn’t blame them.”
Choia laughed, reaching over to scoop the chopped zucchini into a large bowl. “You’ll be fine, Dove. I think this will be good for you.” With a sly smile, she added, “And I’ll help you bribe them with baked treats too, just to be safe.”
I tried to return her smile but found I couldn’t. Sobering, I asked, “Choia, why didn’t you tell me about the bandits? The orphans?”
She sighed. After a long moment, she put down her spoon and gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher. “You’re a good girl, Dove. But you know how you get sometimes. So wrapped up in your own head, your own business.” She grabbed the saltcellar and began sprinkling white flakes into the bowl.
“I tried,” she said simply. “When it happened. But you were distracted, something to do with the bills and your mother. And you’ve never cared much about this sort of thing before…
” She shrugged, and I flushed with shame.
Had I really been so closed off? So uncaring of others outside the manor, or my tiny life?
“I have been bringing the villagers a basket every week or so, if it makes you feel better. Bread, eggs, grains. Nothing extravagant, but something to keep fed the extra mouths. We don’t tell the lord and lady.
” She paused, seeing my face. “Perhaps I should have tried harder to tell you though, about the situation.”
I shook my head, hard. “No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t more attentive when you tried to tell me what happened. It feels like I’m walking around with blinders on sometimes, not truly seeing the world around me. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that kind of person. Like my parents.”
Choia placed a hand on my cheek. “Dear, you’re not your parents.
Not by a long shot. I see you growing and changing, so different now from the spoiled little lady who first ran into my kitchens to hide from her harp lesson.
” She tapped my cheek lightly until I gave her a watery smile.
“It’s been a tough couple of years for us. Give yourself some grace, yes?”
I took a deep breath and nodded, resolving to do better. She pushed a kettle toward me. “Now go make us a nice pot of tea, and let’s start planning for these lessons of yours.”
I’d shut myself up in this manor for far too long. From now on, that was going to change.