Chapter 55 #2
I laughed again. We walked the rest of the way back hand in hand, Mira and Juno’s voices carrying back to us on the cold air. Ahead of us the Western Tower stood solid and stubborn and welcoming in the sunlight.
Maybe things will get better from now on, I thought.
∞∞∞
Three weeks later
Spring finally arrived. With it came our hopes for the first letters from home since last autumn.
I’d mailed off a stack of letters to Papa last week, written all throughout the long winter months.
I’d told him about my Aurelian Trials win, but had omitted Cresta’s attack, or any of the other unpleasant things that had happened to us since arriving at the academy.
I imagined he’d received word of Mama’s death by now.
He was probably sunk deep in mourning, and I didn’t want him to worry about us.
I watched the clerk at the head table work his way through the stack of mail piled in a square wicker basket in front of him.
Juno was vibrating with anticipation next to me, her porridge cooling as she craned her neck to track the clerk’s progress. Even Mira was craning her neck to watch him.
“Talisa, Mira, and Juno of Bernswick,” the clerk called, his voice carrying over the noise of the dining hall. “Two letters.”
My hand shot up. The clerk nodded and passed a pair of envelopes to his assistant, a first-year work/study student who then delivered them to our table.
Both letters were on thick, island paper made from flax fibers, folded and sealed with a blob of plain red wax.
I turned them over. On one, I saw our names written out in Papa’s sloping hand. The other was addressed just to me, and I recognized Elfrieda’s scrawl.
“Open them” Juno urged, her knee bumping mine under the table. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”
“I’m not reading Papa and Elfrieda’s letters with everyone listening in.”
She pouted as I tucked the letters into the pocket of my skirt.
“She’s right,” Mira said. “It’s private.”
“Fine.” Juno scooped a spoonful of porridge and shoved it into her mouth, chewing with theatrical impatience. “But we’re going straight back to our rooms after breakfast and reading it.”
Across the table, Elio caught my eye. He looked amused.
We returned to our suite a short time later.
Juno flung herself onto the sofa. Mira settled beside her, tucking her feet under her. I dragged a chair over to them and pulled out Papa’s letter.
The seal broke with a soft crack. I unfolded a single page and frowned. Only one? After so many months?
“My dearest Talisa, Mira, and Juno,” I read aloud.
“I hope this letter finds you well and working hard at your studies. The winter here was long and tough, as they always are, but the ice broke early this year and the first fishing boats went out on the first of Third Month. The village council asked me to once again oversee the distribution of the seed grain at the Blessing of the Seeds festival last week, and of course I was honored to do it.”
I’d been longing for these kinds of details of life back in Bernswick.
Then the tone changed.
“I know this past winter must have been difficult for you. Your mother’s tragic death left a void that cannot be filled, and I know you girls feel her absence keenly, as do I.
But life moves forward, as it must, and the Divine Mother in her wisdom teaches us that grief, while necessary, is not meant to be a permanent residence for the soul. ”
I stopped reading. His words sounded so polished, the platitude so impersonal, I wondered whether our village priest had composed this section of the letter.
Mira sniffled. Juno crossed her arms, frowning.
I forced myself to continue reading aloud.
“Jacinthe has been of use to me in managing the household and clinic. Despite her inability to cast even the smallest spell, I am satisfied with her efforts.”
That’s it? Just two cold sentences about Jacinthe’s usefulness, and no word about how she was faring.
I wondered whether grief had hollowed her out the way it had hollowed me in the wake of Mama’s death, and whether she’d spent the same sleepless nights at first, lying awake and staring at the ceiling the way I had.
“There is one more piece of news to share with you, and I hope you will receive it with good grace. I have signed a betrothal contract with Narcissa of Camarcon. The wedding will take place next week here in Bernswick. I regret that the three of you won’t be here to celebrate with us, but I know you will welcome your new stepmother when you return home for the summer. ”
I stared down at the letter, feeling as if I’d just been slapped in the face.
“Is he joking?” Juno and Mira demanded in unison. They both looked as horrified as I felt.
Narcissa of Camarcon was the Frankish mage who ran the competing apothecary in Alderholt, three miles downriver.
Mama had despised the woman, and with good reason. Shortly after arriving in Alderholt, Narcissa had tried to spread rumors that Mama’s cures were ineffective for anything more serious than a headache.
And now she’s going to be part of our family? Ugh.
I shook my head, cleared my throat, and continued reading.
“Narcissa’s daughter Kazetta is the same age as Juno and Mira.
They will all get on splendidly in their shared bedroom.
Narcissa brings with her several valuable recipes that will complement our apothecary’s existing offerings.
I look forward to seeing you all in time to celebrate Victory Day together.
With deepest affection, I sign myself your loving Papa. ”
Juno was the first to break the silence that followed my reading. Her face had gone through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, disbelief, dawning horror—and settled on something raw and wounded that made her look much younger than thirteen.
“Narcissa’s going to be in our house, sleeping in Mama’s bed, using Mama’s things—” She swallowed hard. “I was looking forward to going home so much! And now it’s going to be awful.”
Mira had drawn her knees to her chest and pressed her face into her skirts. When she lifted her head, her eyes were bright with tears.
“How could he?” she whispered. “So soon? And to Narcissa, of all people? Mama hated her. She said Narcissa would peel the labels off our potion bottles and sell them as her own if she thought she could get away with it.”
“I know,” I said, still unable to believe what I’d just read. “But we’ll just have to make the best of a bad situation. You don’t want to stay here all summer, do you?”
Juno was crying now, angry tears that she wiped away with the heels of her hands, her breath coming in hitches.
I moved to the sofa and put an arm around each of them, letting them comfort me as much as I was comforting them.
Then I opened Elfrieda’s letter. Her missive consisted of two closely-written pages that began with,
Dearest Talisa,
I can’t wait to hear how things are going for you at the academy. Have you had a chance to explore the capital? Met any rich, handsome nobles?
You’d better sit down before you read this, because I swear by the Divine Mother that everything I’m about to tell you is true.
All of Bernswick is buzzing with the news, and no one can believe it.
That awful Mage Narcissa of Camarcon waited barely six weeks after word came that your mama had been lost at sea before she started calling on your papa.
Yes, that Mage Narcissa. The one from Dunsthorpe with the silver-gilt hair who liked to say nasty things about your mama while smiling as sweetly as if snowflakes wouldn’t melt on her tongue. Before the mourning period was even over, she and Mage Baldwin signed a betrothal contract.
Then Narcissa and all four of her nasty spoiled daughters promptly moved into your house, and poor Jacinthe was banished to the attic so they could take over her bedroom. And Talisa, you would be furious if you could see how they’re treating her!
They have Jacinthe doing all the cooking, cleaning, washing, shopping, and half the work in the clinic besides, as if she’s some hired servant.
My mama says Narcissa won’t even let Jacinthe sit down to meals with the family.
I ran into Jacinthe myself at market day last week, and she looks so thin and tired!
But she wouldn’t say a word against your papa when I asked her what was wrong, which only worries me more.
And if all of that weren’t bad enough, wait until I tell you how your papa lost the money your mama put aside for Jacinthe’s apprenticeship while playing cards against Fugol Smith...
I read numbly on, stopping only to tell my avidly curious sisters, “I'll let you read it when I'm done, but things are even worse back home than we thought.”
Outside our window, the dining hall bell tolled the hour, heedless of how our lives had just detonated once again.