17 Dove #2
Could she sense what had happened yesterday?
If she found out—about everything, but mainly the attack on the road—surely, she’d forbid me from returning to the priory.
Or find some way to scare me into quitting.
I hadn’t realized until now, faced with the possibility of losing my work with the orphans, that I really didn’t want to.
Despite the terrifying prospect of bandits, kidnappers, or generally scary assholes out there on the road.
Fuck them all! Those children needed me.
Or at least, they needed art. And after everything they’d been through already in their young lives, I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to disappoint them.
So my mother couldn’t find out. Nerves frazzling, I tried to act normal. Normal Dove would cross her arms and look terribly bored at her parent’s nagging. So that’s what I did, tapping my boot toe against the shiny marble floor for good measure. Mother took a sip of her tea.
“Hmm. And where is Maerryl then?”
I panicked, trying not to let it show on my face. “Oh, she’s just—”
“I’m here, Lady Wistrallo.” Maerryl stepped out from the staircase door, where she’d apparently been lurking. I ignored the jumble of feelings that rose upon seeing her—and her uncharacteristic bedhead—appear when I needed her.
My mother sniffed. “Good morning, Miss Kirim. Wait here, please. Dove, come join your father and me for breakfast. We want to speak with you.” She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer.
Maerryl and I exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite decipher, and I followed Mother into the dining room.
“Ah, my Dove! Good morning, dear,” my father said. “Close the door, there you go. Now come sit down and talk with us.”
I sighed and joined them, wishing for the millionth time that we had a round dining table, or at least a square, rather than this long monstrosity that placed them on either imperious end and me plopped in the middle twisting my neck back and forth to hold a conversation.
It had always felt like there should be someone else across from me, a sibling perhaps, or a partner, with whom I could communicate silently in looks and toe nudges over our family meals. But no, it was only me. Alone.
A wild thought came to mind. Maybe I should just run away and join the priory.
“Dove? Dovey, are you listening to me?” Mother’s annoyed voice snapped me back to the present, to the quiet stillness of the dining room and my parents’ eyes on me.
“Oh yes, of course. Just, um, repeat that last bit?” I grabbed a goldenberry croissant and stabbed a chicken sausage link with my fork. “And why are you up so early anyway?”
My mother had a strict personal rule against eye rolling, but for a moment it looked like she was fighting the urge.
“As I was telling you, darling, your father and I are going into the city for a few days. We’ll be back by the end of the week, and while we’re gone we urge you to stay on the estate. ”
“A trip to the city? What inn did you book?” My mind called up the house accounts, our expenses and savings that I’d kept a close eye on since I’d taken over the estate’s finances.
My mother’s lips tightened, but she said lightly, “We didn’t. The Tongs invited us to stay with them for their grand revel.” She looked quite pleased with herself, and Father grinned broadly.
“We’re back on the up-and-up, my dears! Oh, ho! Yes, we are,” he said, and I tried to muster up a smile for him.
“Indeed. Yes, so we just wanted to update you on that, share the good news. And also—” Here she shared a look with Father, and my heart rate increased. I took a large gulp of tea. “We wanted to, ah, check in with you. To see, I suppose, how you’re feeling.”
What? I could count on one hand the number of times Mother had asked how I felt. And I was pretty sure they were all when I was ill.
I looked to my father, croissant frozen halfway to my mouth. He looked a bit uncomfortable.
“Yes, well, there was that unfortunate display of yours, at dinner the other night. And we’ve hardly seen you since then. Petra says you’ve been busy painting and with the, ah, the accounts.”
“But we’re worried about you, dear,” Mother chimed in. “You don’t seem like yourself lately.”
“And you didn’t use your, ah, your gift yesterday. Didn’t bring it to either of us, or drop it off in my study,” Father said.
And there it was.
For a minute, I’d been quite touched that they’d cared.
That they’d noticed a change in my behavior and had addressed it head-on by talking to me.
Rather than irritably scolding me into submission, or, more commonly as I grew into adulthood and that didn’t work, just tiptoeing around the manor for weeks until “Dovey’s mood” had passed.
But this was it. The real reason they’d sat me down at this meal.
I hadn’t created the daily jewel that they’d come to rely on.
And with their venture into Talon, trying to wiggle back into their old social circles, they wanted it.
Probably needed it. Their former friends wouldn’t make things easy for them, and they had to flash as much wealth as possible to make an impression—to make it clear that the Wistrallos were back and stronger even than before.
I chewed my croissant, savoring the delicate sweetness of the goldenberries.
I took a slow sip of tea. And I looked back and forth at both of them.
Mother and Father. Disappointing, predictable, and still two of the most important people in my life.
Despite all their flaws, I somehow always found myself here, wanting things to change but always caving to their demands.
I can’t live like this anymore.
“I think you should stay in the city for longer. Past the revel,” I found myself saying. “We have some extra in the budget this month. Take it. Find a short-term rental—not a fancy inn. Or stay with the Tongs. Or another family. I don’t care.”
They seemed shocked into silence—a rarity. I stood, feeling oddly calm. “This will be good for us. You’ll get to spend more time in Talon and take advantage of this moment. It’s what you’ve wanted for so long. And if you spend the money wisely it should last you at least a few weeks.”
Mother’s perfect eyebrows had practically disappeared into her hairline. Father slowly lowered his teacup and looked to her for an indication of what they should do. Her mouth was set in a prim, tight line.
She stared at me, hard, but only said, “Well, that’s a lovely idea. Isn’t it, dear? Our Dovey is so thoughtful.”
“Very thoughtful. I think it’s just a marvelous plan!”
I nodded, forcing my legs to walk me to the door. “I’ll collect everything and send it down with Petra soon. Thank you for a nice breakfast. I really should get going now.”
I was nearly out, the curved metal handle cold in my grip.
“Oh, and darling?” she called to me, voice snaking out, “Please don’t come to the table so unkempt again. You know how I hate such frumpiness at a meal.”
The door clicked shut behind me.