43
I crossed the large, sandy, gravel courtyard, aware of the astonished, leering looks of the guards in training, and that my hair shone like waves of gold in the sunlight, which likely accentuated my feminine figure beneath the nightgown.
Followed by the anxious glances of the slaves at work, I stepped through the barn’s porch and entered the laundry.
The women, bent over various stone or brick basins, quadrangular or circular, of differing sizes, ceased their chatter and jumped together, either dropping their wash into the water or using it as a shield.
Seeing them so afraid of me gripped my heart. I was like a monster to them—and perhaps they were right.
There was something snaking inside me. Something that didn’t belong to me and stung me and infected me.
I wanted to get rid of it.
I wanted to rinse it away.
I wanted to be clean again.
So, I concealed my still-shaking hands behind my back and attempted to offer my sincerest smile. “Good morning.”
They shared anxious looks, lips sealed, their tense bodies yearning to escape the big room.
I searched their worn faces, looking for a hint of friendship. “I was wondering if . . . if I could join you for the rest of the morning.” Their caution grew, so I quickly added, “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
Some of the slaves at the bottom tanks began whispering to one another. When the word ‘whore’ echoed through the gurgling of the open taps, a short, plump lady, with her salt-and-pepper hair gathered in a white bonnet, made an exasperated sound and approached me.
“Sure, darling,” she said, wiping her hands on the white apron covering her brownish tunic and then using it to dab the sweat from her round cheeks. She gestured invitingly. “Come with me, come.”
Suppressing my urge to glare at the servants who called me a slut—likely due to my wandering around in unsuitable clothing—I trailed behind the elderly woman to the wall displaying several large nails bending upward, where only two aprons and two bonnets remained.
She selected a set and tossed the apron in my direction.
“Here, put it on,” she said hastily, moving behind me.
I smiled slightly, tying the apron around my waist as the woman, without asking for permission and without any fear, wrapped my hair around her fist to form a bun and placed it into the bonnet.
“Well?” she yelled upon realizing everyone was staring at us. “You have nothing to do? Wash up, come on!”
She landed a gentle backhand on my biceps, prompting me to follow her to the larger basin. She had me fish into the basket of clothes at her big feet, and the servants at our same tub snickered when I pulled out some male breeches with a nauseating stain on the back.
“Be quiet!” the woman reprimanded them, then gave me a soap bar. “Come on, do what I do.”
I spent the next few hours with my arms submerged to my elbows, rubbing and rinsing. Gradually, the servants began to relax and include me in their conversations, welcoming the smiles I offered and returning them without shame for their imperfect, yellowed teeth.
I tried to keep my hands in the water as much as possible, relishing its lapping. The more I got wet, the more I sensed the darkness slipping away from my limbs.
Still, even when I felt free from it, I was not at all relieved, for the suffering from Amlach’s actions was like a dagger that continued to twist in my heart, piercing it ever deeper.
To make it cry blood.
* * *
I skipped lunch and assisted other servants with any task that occupied my mind, avoiding Lotte’s fury whenever she entered the courtyard, her nostrils flaring like a dragon’s.
Amlach never sought me out, and I was thankful.
At dinner time, feeling exhausted for the first time in my entire life, I made my way to our room. The door was shut. I reached for the knob but hesitated, my hand lingering on it.
I couldn’t handle it.
The very idea of lying next to the man who had made me discover such new and exciting and frightening and forbidden sensations, only for him to then spend the night with another woman, made my stomach twist.
Made me want to hurt him.
So, once more, I exited the main building and headed back to the barns. Two lengthy tables were arranged in the center of the yard, where servants and guards enjoyed their meals amidst laughter and folk music.
Despite the torches that lit the courtyard, I used the shadows to remain unseen, observing them as they enjoyed themselves, shared food, and sang.
Observing them as they lived a happy life, away from the sorrow afflicting the Kingdom of Men.
With a sad half-smile, I slid into the cattle sheds and entered the cage where Amlach and I had been locked up our first night at the house. I untied some bushels and made a hay bed, lying down and inhaling its wild scent.
I was certain I had just drifted off when the cell door’s hinges creaked in the shed. The aroma of bean soup and grilled pork ribs lingered in the air, causing my stomach to rumble, yet I stayed as motionless as a statue, even with my eyelids now open.
“They told me you haven’t eaten anything all day,” Amlach said.
I remained silent, battling every cell in my body that urged me to get up and lunge at him.
I didn’t know if to beat him up.
I didn’t know if to hug him.
Amlach exhaled through his nose and set the food tray on a wooden bale, his face showing mild upset. From my position, he seemed as tall as a mountain surrounded by ominous rain clouds.
“Nauriel, come to our room. I can’t—” He looked away, grimacing in anger. “I can’t sleep without you.”
“Then go seek warmth in the bed of your new lover or of those who will come,” I replied through clenched teeth, rolling to the other side.
Amlach huffed loudly, and I heard the dry straw creaking beneath the soles of his boots as he exited the cage.
Creaks that stopped suddenly.
Creaks that resumed a moment later, closer and closer, until my bed of hay sank under Amlach’s weight.
I had my heart in my mouth as his breath brushed against the hair at the nape of my neck, while his fingers traced abstract shapes from my shoulder blade to my elbow.
“I’m sorry,” Amlach whispered against my shoulder.
I said nothing as a solitary tear rolled down my nose. In a few moments, I fell asleep against my will with a single thought directed at the Spirits swirling in my mind.
Why can’t it be him?