15 Dove
DOVE
I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking. Whether from fear, righteous anger, or frustration, I didn’t know. Some combination of all three and more stormed in my mind.
Adrenaline coursed through me. Clenching my sweaty palms into fists, I walked as quickly as I could back toward the stairwell up to the main hall. All I wanted was to get into my bedroom, to safety—seal the door, throw the covers over my head, and not come out until morning.
But I felt Maerryl behind me, drawing closer.
The memory of last night in that stairwell with her, and the unbidden daydream earlier, sent a squeeze through my already-tight chest. I needed air, fresh air.
My feet turned, taking me instead into the solarium and through its side door out into the chilly night.
I swept a hand toward the small magelights that lined the path, activating a few so that the night felt less empty.
The gardens could be beautiful in the evening.
I’d spent plenty of solitary nights walking these grounds, sitting on my favorite bench sketching by the lights’ golden glow. It was peaceful here.
That peace did nothing to calm my racing pulse now. The words I’d said at dinner, my parents’ expressions—gods, they must be furious with me. What had I been thinking??
I couldn’t hear Maerryl, but I knew she was there. I refused to turn around. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them away rapidly before any evidence fell. The autumnal chill slipped through my silk dress. I shivered.
“Well.” Her voice came, tinged with amusement. “That was quite a show.”
I ignored her. Trying to focus on calming my breath, I moved farther along the path and stood by a bench that overlooked a small pond.
Tall reeds and flower bushes surrounded it, forming a cozy space that always brought me comfort.
It somehow felt cut off from the manor, a little ecosystem all its own, with frogs ribbiting and the occasional plop!
as one jumped in, gently rippling the water’s surface.
“I wonder if they’re still sitting there, frozen in their chairs by sheer shock,” Maerryl said from the darkness to my right.
A few long moments later, her sly voice said, “So, what are we going to do tomorrow—pierce your nose? Pretend to run away from home? Skip lessons and swim in the lake? I think one’s thirties are a bit late for teenage rebellion.”
All my swirling emotions whipped higher and launched at her. “Oh, would you SHUT. UP. Just shut the fuck up, for once!” I swept toward where I felt her, my eyes adjusted to the dark now. Her outline was still, her hazel gaze taunting, playful.
“What’s wrong, Dovey? Worried Mummy and Daddy are angry with you? Or mad at the big, bad world for opening your eyes a bit? What a tough day you’ve had.”
My head pounded harder. I couldn’t deal with this right now, with her.
I leaned in close, chest heaving, fists clenched in my skirts so she couldn’t see them shake. “I hate you,” I hissed. “Do you understand that? I hate you, Maerryl Kirim. What happened today changes nothing. Nothing.”
Her eyes flattened at the venom in my voice. I stepped back, suddenly not able to look at her.
Turning away, I strode back up the path to the manor and into the solarium. Before I waved the magelights off, I glanced back.
She was gone.
This was what I wanted. What I’d craved since she arrived: some peace and quiet, no snarky ghost tracking my every move. Ignoring the twisting in my gut, I headed upstairs.
The next day passed strangely, too slow and still.
I spent the morning in my office, paying bills and sorting through various matters for the estate.
I collected a pile of gold and silver coin, embossed with the Queen’s sigil on one side, swept them into a velvet drawstring bag, and tucked it in our safe for tomorrow.
Petra brought up a tray lunch at noon as I locked up, and we shared the cheddar, apple, and pickle sandwiches that Choia had made.
The afternoon was spent entirely in my studio, losing myself in color and brushstrokes.
And through it all, no Maerryl. Not lurking in the corner or bothering me as I worked.
I’d seen her briefly, standing guard outside my bedroom door when Petra left with the breakfast things this morning.
But she was faced away and didn’t move an inch.
And since then, nothing. She hadn’t inserted herself in my business this morning or sprawled on my office’s couch, and she left me alone in the studio too.
Thank the goddess. I didn’t think I could paint at all if she was around.
It was a relief to be back in my routine. Peaceful, and very productive. But I couldn’t help the nagging sense that something felt off. By the end of the day, as I bathed and donned my nightgown for bed, I found myself wishing the morning would arrive sooner.
Despite this, I tossed and turned late into the night, unable to fall asleep properly.
When I woke up the next morning, it was from fitful dreams, a shade away from nightmares.
Petra, as if sensing something was off, made a large mug of loveydovey for me, given with a quick hug and a worried look.
I burrowed back into my duvet, savoring the warmth as she bustled around stoking the fire and plucking out outfit options from the wardrobe.
“You know, if you’re not up for this today, you can tell me,” Petra said. “I’m sure they’d reschedule the class. We can send the stable boy with a message—”
“No, I’m fine. Perfectly fine, just a bit tired is all.” I brightened my smile.
“Okay…” she said, looking me over skeptically.
“Come, show me what you’ve picked out.” I downed the dregs of my mug and sat up, gesturing to the clothes laid out on the other side of my bed.
Her hands brushed over a smart wool jacket with thin pleats built into the back and sleeves. “I’m thinking the green. It looks lovely on you, and it’s a bit understated. Less likely to intimidate the children than one of your fancier riding outfits.”
Studying the moss-green fabric, I nodded and said, “Perfect. I agree. Thank you, my friend.”
I changed quickly, and before I knew it, Lightning and I were pacing up the road to the priory.
Maerryl was on her horse just behind us, of course.
We hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet today.
Not since the garden the other night, a memory I tried to ignore.
My skin broke out in prickles every time my thoughts strayed to it—what I’d said, the look on her face…
No matter now. We both knew our place. And it was for the best. She was getting far too comfortable.
The voice in my head sounded disturbingly like Mother’s.
I shook the thoughts away, refocusing on the here and now. Lightning stepped through the high archway that marked the priory’s entrance. Once more, we were greeted by an acolyte. This time a middle-aged centaur, gray through her long, braided mane of hair.
She led us along the same path we traveled on our last visit. But instead of heading toward the stone staircase and Prioress the Elder’s study like last time, we turned right, following her down a long hallway that curved ever so gradually inward.
“Here we are,” she said, throwing open the double doors into a bright, high-ceiled room.
I took a deep breath and followed her, clutching the sack of coins and leather satchel of paintbrushes I’d brought.
Instructing the acolyte and Maerryl to set the rest of the art supplies on a nearby table, I then took in the full room—and its inhabitants.
Six children clustered on the edges, perched on cots or huddled together.
Their small faces tracked my movements, wary but not afraid.
A thin young man who was setting up refreshments in a corner spotted us and came forward with a soft smile.
He had the magical runes marking him as a cleric tattooed along one slender, pale hand and wrist, trailing up into his wide sleeve.
The priories didn’t have strict ranks, per se, and their customs weren’t entirely clear to me, but I knew that clerics were senior to acolytes.
They’d belonged to the priory for a time and had made some kind of lifelong dedication to the dual goddess.
“Good morning, friends,” this cleric said, his voice gently melodic. “I am Orinno. The prioresses have asked me to assist you today, so please let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you. I’m Lad—I mean, I’m Dove,” I said, returning his smile. Tossing a hand behind me, I added, “And this is my ever-faithful bodyguard, Maerryl.”
He nodded to her, eyes warming even more, before leading me over to the children.
“Young ones, this is Dove. She is a lady who lives at a neighboring estate. As we talked about earlier, she’s come to give you all painting classes. Please grant her your attention.”
With that, he stepped back and looked to me.
I froze for a moment. Oh shit, right! I’m up.
Plastering on another big, hopefully-normal-looking smile, I moved closer to the children. They were all about seven to fourteen, from my best guess. Clean and fresh-faced, with expressions ranging from eager and excited to scowling and guarded.
I took a steadying breath, then said, “Good morning, everyone! It’s very nice to meet you all. I thought we’d start off with watercolors? If that sounds all right?”
They all stared at me. One of the smaller kids nodded excitedly.
“Okay! Well. I’ll take that as a yes! Let’s move…
over there, maybe? And set up?” Spotting a long, rough-hewn table and chairs by the far windows, I led the way and set down my supplies.
Maerryl added the rest of our stuff to the pile, avoiding my gaze, before ambling away to find a sturdy wall she could lean intimidatingly against.
The children trickled after me, taking seats at the table as I greeted each one and asked their names. Orinno helpfully fetched a few small bowls of water.