10. Lady Picorys Party
Lady Picory's Party
N avigating Jezebel’s ever fluctuating emotional state to earn herself food became Mila’s sole purpose as the days passed. In the evenings, she would lie awake long after Jezebel had fallen asleep, and try distract herself from the pain of her stomach eating itself by pondering the mystery of Abbott’s deliberate persecution of her kind.
Was he simply scared of ikarei? Or was something more sinister at play?
There were no answers readily available, and Mila’s opportunities to read the High Priest were limited. Jezebel hated him and avoided him whenever she could, choosing instead to socialise outside the palace wherever possible.
One such morning, Jezebel announced with glee that they would be visiting Picory Manor. Mila could barely rouse herself to be curious about the destination. She could not tell if it was the horrid leash’s aura, the starvation, or the rubane withdrawals causing her to feel lightheaded. Probably a combination of all three.
Breakfast had not been offered .
Conversely, Jezebel’s mood could not have been more bright. Mila sensed great excitement and anticipation radiating from her as they drew closer to the manor, and she wondered what exactly the princess had in store for her that day and who they’d be meeting.
“Eliza Picory,” Jezebel said, as though answering Mila’s unspoken question. “She and Meredith, who you’ll also meet at some point, are part of the new nobility.” She saw Mila’s questioning gaze and rolled her eyes. “God, you are truly a heathen, aren’t you? The new nobility is what we call the wives whose husbands were among the first to lay down their weapons and swear obedience to my father. They were richly rewarded for their loyalty and now all own titles and manors in the land that lies within a day’s carriage ride around Jeralusah. You’ll need to understand all of this if you’re to be of proper use to me, demon.”
“Yes, mistress,” Mila agreed with a fervent nod and silently noted the manor they approached with awe. If this was the type of reward available for recognising Midas’s ascension as God-King, then it was little surprise that the war had been short-lived.
Especially when the opposing option had been death.
The carriage came to a halt at the large wooden doors of the manor, and Jezebel accepted a footman’s hand as she descended. She pulled Mila behind her and did not pause even for a moment to allow her to gain her footing on the small step. Only her agility from a lifetime living amongst trees saved Mila from a painful fall onto the sharp gravelled courtyard.
The doors to the manor opened slowly, and Mila followed Jezebel inside to the greeting room, where they were made to wait a surprisingly long time before their host appeared. Finally, the door pushed open, and a tall woman with curly brown hair and a dancer’s gait waltzed in. Mila's power was drawn to her involuntarily and she wrestled with it, trying to draw it back onto Jezebel.
“Princess! Welcome. I wasn’t expecting you to grace us with your presence today.”
Lady Eliza Picory’s welcome seemed so sincere and warm that Mila was surprised to feel the undertone of resentment and dislike directed towards the princess. The look of horror she cast in Mila’s direction, however, was entirely undisguised, and Jezebel laughed loudly when she saw it.
“I had to show you my newest pet, Eliza. A demon . I know,” she said gleefully to the shocked silence. “Now come, let us go to the sitting room, and I’ll show you how she can entertain you too.”
For a horrifying moment, Mila wondered if Jezebel really intended to share her around for the sexual gratification of her social circle, but that thought was interrupted when she felt Lady Picory’s own sharp waves of energetic discomfort at the idea.
The woman was a master actor, and without Mila’s powers, she wouldn’t have noticed the flood of concern that suddenly enveloped Lady Picory at Jezebel’s suggestion. But she continued to smile broadly as she said, “Fabulous. Now I’ll just warn you that there are already a few of the girls upstairs. I do hope it’s alright to show her off to a few others as well?”
“Of course!” Jezebel was delighted by the idea of a larger audience.
However, once they ascended the grand golden staircase and pushed open the double barrel doors to the sitting room, the abrupt silence that met them on their arrival made it quickly apparent that Lady Picory had understated the social event she was hosting. She had, in fact, been throwing quite the party, one that had almost certainly included dancing, joy and celebration. A truly heretical, secret gathering of elites .
And it was clear that Jezebel had absolutely not been invited.
Mila wasn’t sure if the absence of the invitation had been because Jezebel was the daughter of the God-King, or simply because she wasn’t liked, but either way, the snub was obvious. She could feel Jezebel’s outrage and humiliation sizzling from her as the princess found herself standing in the centre of a silent room, filled with people who didn’t want her there.
Mila paused behind Jezebel, using the woman as a shield against the size of the crowd, but their energies came barrelling towards her anyway. She shrank her horns reflexively to minimise the impact, but the action just drew attention to them and made things worse. A number of distressed gasps emitted from those who had witnessed it.
Fear, horror, curiosity.
She was unsure which of those energies were directed at her and which at Jezebel, but either way, it didn’t matter. They hit her all at once, bombarding and overwhelming her senses, forcing her to physically gasp for air to steady herself. She fought for control of her power, and finally, with great effort, she managed to draw it mostly back into herself, blocking out the frenzied energies of the fifty or so people in the room and leaving just a small beam that linked her to Jezebel alone.
Jezebel’s energy was mixed. Her humiliation and outrage had dulled as she comprehended what she’d interrupted and was steadily being replaced by anger and pride. She was determined not to let the occupants of the room know that she was upset. Showing indifference was the only way she could save face in this situation, something Lady Picory understood perfectly. She tried to help, breaking the uncomfortable silence with a carefully worded explanation.
“Apologies, Princess. I believed you to be quite busy with our Holy God-King following the Sacrament of Contrition and expected that you wouldn’t want to be bothered by such a small gathering. It’s really been nothing more than just an…embarrassing demonstration of gross opulence.”
There was a titter of nervous laughter from the other women and men in the room.
Jezebel gave a close-lipped smile in response. “Yes, you’re right. I have been busy. In fact, I barely have time to grace you all with my presence today. But I was passing through and thought I might pop by and show you all my new conquest. My demon pet.”
She stepped aside, fully exposing Mila in her new, horrifying garb, for all the party to gawk at.
“A demon ?!”
“I knew I saw horns.”
“How has this been permitted?”
It seemed an age passed before the room had their fill of staring, and Jezebel was more than happy to stand in silence and stare them all down until they did. Finally, the tension lifted, and general chatter slowly resumed.
Jezebel accepted a drink from Lady Picory and allowed herself to be escorted to a magnificent chair next to one of the far windows. There sat eight or so women. Jezebel’s friends, Mila assumed, or at least, women she expected to indulge her.
Once Jezebel was seated amongst them, she ordered a server to bring over a bowl and some bread. She was swiftly obeyed.
When the items arrived, the princess placed them on the floor at Mila’s feet and gestured to them. “Eat.”
Hungry but wary, Mila knelt slowly and leaned towards the bowl.
When the tips of her fingers touched the rim, Jezebel rapped out a sharp, “No! No hands. From the floor will suit you just fine. ”
It was humiliating, but Mila was starving, and in this situation, pride was a dead currency. Food was food.
So, she knelt and ate the bread with her mouth alone, like a puppy by its master’s feet.
“Her power,” Jezebel’s voice sounded from above her, “is the ability to sense your energy.”
“That’s the power she chose?” The woman who spoke had a lilt of a laugh to her voice. “Ahh. I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t help but laugh when I hear of the powers demons accept in exchange for their souls. They could not be more useless, more ridiculous.”
“Well, that’s half the evil of Viah on display there, isn’t it? Entrapping children in their dreams with the promise of great powers,” someone else said.
“Entrapping the weak,” Jezebel corrected. “Remember, we’re all subjected to Viah’s temptation in our sleep as children. We – ” she gestured to the group around her, “ – were among those devout enough to resist.”
Mila felt an air of superiority settling over the group.
The woman who’d mocked Mila’s power sat with a white cat nestled sleepily in her lap. She reminded Mila vaguely of a peacock: tall, and slim enough that her clavicle was all but poking free of her skin. She was older than all the other women by at least two decades, and wore a shimmering, ocean-green dress, her gold hair piled high in an updo, which pulled the skin on her forehead taut.
“She certainly has an…earthy quality to her,” she said.
The observation was a barbed critique, especially considering how much effort Jezebel had put into dressing Mila in a manner that could be described as anything but “earthy” .
Jezebel let the comment roll off her as she reclined further into the chair and gestured to a maid holding an enormous, feathered fan to commence cooling her.
“Judge her all you like, Meredith.” She turned to the wider group. “You’ll all come to hate her soon enough.” She could barely conceal her delight. “My demon can sense your energy,” she repeated. “And for those of you too thick to figure out what that means yet, it means that anything you once thought to hold secret from me will be secret no longer.”
Mila didn’t know who tried to hide their horror more, her or the ladies of the room. Jezebel ploughed on, totally aware and completely delighted by the reaction to this information.
“Demon,” she ordered, “read Eliza’s energy.”
She evidently had not forgiven the host for not inviting her to the party.
Obediently, Mila turned to face Lady Picory and reached her hand out towards her, to help direct her unpredictable power. The wall of hostile energy radiating from the woman hit Mila like a charging horse.
“She would kill me if she had the chance,” Mila responded honestly, trying to appear bland and disinterested in this news. Jezebel was dangerous, but she also did not want a woman like Eliza Picory as an enemy.
“Don’t appreciate my little reader, Eliza?” Jezebel laughed again. “I wonder what you think you have to hide from me.”
“I hide nothing, Princess,” the woman harrumphed. “She is a demon. I merely believe she should have been sacrificed with the rest for both her sin and for our nation’s repentance. The world would be a safer place without her kind.”
“As would we all from your ambitions.” Jezebel sneered, and Lady Picory pursed her lips .
Mila tried to draw her power away from Lady Picory and return her attention to the bread that still lay before her. Her power did not obey. It flew from her weak mental grasp and scattered throughout the room again, reading everything in the vicinity, overwhelming and meaningless to her in its sheer volume: lust, anger, hunger, delight, human, human, mouse in the wall, plants hanging from the ceiling, thirsty, anxious, human, human, ikarei, human, human –
Mila sat bolt upright.
Ikarei energy? There was another ikarei in here somewhere?
Forgetting the bread entirely, Mila wrestled for control of her power, trying to scan the room more deliberately, wishing that she could hone it more accurately and with less effort.
It was useless.
There was another ikarei in here somewhere. She knew it, but maddeningly, she simply wasn’t powerful enough to identify who it was. Not without touching each and every person in the room, and that was never going to happen.
It was beyond frustrating.
With resignation, she allowed herself to be distracted from this startling discovery by the new topic being discussed by the ladies.
“There must be something done about them. Their voices grow stronger in Traders Bay every week, and soon it will spread, as these things always seem to do.”
“It’s straight up blasphemy, it is. Who do they think they are to know better than the Church?”
“I know better than the Church,” Jezebel chimed in haughtily.
That caused a slight hiccup in the flow of conversation, but the woman named Meredith smoothed it over swiftly. “Of course you do, Highness. You’re half Divine. But these dissidents… Where do they even come from? Who are they? It’s sheer arrogance. ”
“It’s a phase,” another woman huffed dismissively, wanting to return to gossip rather than politics.
“It’s a threat,” Meredith corrected. “I’m telling you, Cedrik gets multiple reports these days of small crowds gathering to hear them speak.”
“Speak about what, exactly?”
“I dare not repeat specifics here,” Meredith wisely said. “Safe to say, it’s critical of the Church. Especially the High Priest.”
Mila was surprised to see Jezebel snort at that. “Is that it? Well, take it from me, the High Priest could do with a little critiquing now and again. Hardly worth troubling our afternoon over, Meredith. Now, who is next for my demon’s scrutiny?”
As the conversation around her continued, it quickly became evident that, while the princess was enjoying the scandal she’d created by bringing a demon into the room, there were more people than just Lady Eliza Picory who could not reconcile her actions with their beliefs. Mila’s presence caused an undercurrent of tension to Jezebel’s social circle in a way that the princess had not expected, nor did she understand.
Mila, however, understood it perfectly.
When Mila had been a human child, she’d been counted amongst the most devout. Living in a hardworking town in the region of Prious, she’d dutifully gone to Church with her family, and she’d obeyed Church law with fervour and excitement. She loved being recognised and praised by her community as “such a good girl”. It had all been so easy to do, and the alternative was so frightening that she couldn’t imagine living or being any other way.
Even though she’d been young, she still remembered the way the priest had described, in excruciating detail, the Rotting Muds of the afterlife that awaited all nonbelievers and heretics. Fear of that fate had been paralysing, and the mental image of a place where Viah, the great Worm of Death, stewed in the filth of the Rot, devouring the souls of the fallen, frequently gave her nightmares.
That fear had been reinforced weekly, through a variety of mechanisms. She remembered for years of her youth, she’d been separated from her parents every Worship Day. While the adults had attended lessons run by the priest, the children played with toys in a back room under supervision of an acolyte. The toys available to her were figurines of Midas, the jesu, and a warped, horrendous-looking creature that Mila was told was a demon. The only acceptable game to play was the one where the demons were vanquished.
She also remembered story time, where one of the attending acolytes read fables to the gathered children. Fables that centred around the story of Viah, the devil who dwelt on his throne of grot and bile, and plotted ways to tempt young humans while they slept, to convince them to sell him their souls.
The message was always clear: be prepared, strengthen your mind and resolve against this threat now, for when he comes for you in your sleep, the strong will prevail and the weak will fall.
As she’d grown a little older, she’d been permitted to attend the sermons with the adults, and she’d witnessed firsthand the way these teachings had crippled meaningful connections outside of close-knit family groups. Her parents were forever mistrustful and wary of those who seemingly had reason to be happy, always whispering that the neighbour who’d recently given birth, or become betrothed, must be secretly dancing and feasting in their homes. They were also unable to show hospitality or compassion for any outside their tiny, exclusive selection of trusted friends. Mila distinctly remembered her father turning away an old travelling woman during a truly ferocious storm, out of fear that he may unknowingly harbour a heretic inside his house.
This was the key issue that Jezebel’s circle had with her decision.
The enforcement of the Heretical Behaviours had waged a quiet war on the centuries of culture and tradition that had existed within the many diverse regions of Artor. There were many older folk still alive to whom the ‘Dark Ages’ were more than a cautionary tale, but a life they remembered and enjoyed.
So, to them, their princess’s apparent disregard of the punishment given to heretics was a slap in the face to the sacrifices they’d made to ensure they were following Church law.
On the other hand, Jezebel was Midas’s daughter. She was guaranteed a place in Aluah, the heavenly afterlife, regardless of her actions, and as such, she would never truly experience the questioning, the betraying insecurity that almost all others felt about the fate of their immortal soul at one point or another in their life.
Mila remembered clearly the dawning horror she’d felt on that morning fourteen years ago when she’d awoken with horns poking a few inches through her hairline. She had no recollection of the dream where she’d agreed to a devilish pact with Viah, but the horns were evidence that it had happened and that she’d failed the test. Somehow, despite her years of devotion, she had been tempted and tricked, and for reasons she could not discern, her sleeping mind had agreed to become his demon. At thirteen she’d condemned herself to an afterlife of torture and misery in the Rot. She probably would have tried to end her own life that very day out of shame if she hadn’t suddenly become so fearful of what would happen to her after she died.
Mila shook that memory, and the aftermath of that morning, from her mind. It would not be helpful today, or any day, to remember what had transpired next.
* * *
Ultimately, citing a busy schedule, Jezebel did not stay long at the party, and everyone, for their own reasons, was grateful. When back in the carriage and jostling along the road again, Mila waited for Jezebel to make good on her threat and demand to know about the true energy and feelings of the so-called friends within her social circle. She wondered if there was ever a pleasant way to tell someone they were universally disliked. She wondered if Jezebel would lash out at her in pain and punish Mila for their feelings towards her. She wondered if she’d be able to plausibly lie.
To her surprise, the question never came, and when she next routinely ran her power over Jezebel, she realised that the reason for the lack of intrigue was simple. Jezebel already knew, and as much as she pretended it didn’t affect her, it did.
They arrived back at Jezebel’s apartments and, once inside, Jezebel ordered a beautiful stained-glass bath to be drawn and a book of uncouth poems to be brought to her, ordering Mila to read aloud while she bathed.
Mila was surprised by the choice, but as she sat on the cold black tiles, with the bathtub warm against her back, she found herself trying not to laugh as she read, despite the mood of the day that had transpired.
“There once was a girl from Artor
Was a teacher, but also a whore
She did sums on the side
Whilst riding astride
She’s efficient, but also she’s poor.”
Jezebel did not hold back, laughing freely. With interest, Mila felt the tight clutch of humiliation and hurt that Jezebel had been wrapped in slowly loosening with her laughter .
“There once was a boy from the plains
Big breeches but lacking some brains
Any girl he would wed
Would take him to her bed
For a night, and a sheet full of stains.”
Jezebel laughed again and then, to Mila’s surprise, began to construct her own.
“There once was a girl from the west
Who had a large, singular breast
Just one, not the two
Lopsided, askew…”
“It was hard to find quite the right vest?” Mila didn’t know what boldness possessed her in that moment to say anything or where the line even came from, but it worked.
Jezebel snorted in amusement. “That’s a good one. Let’s try another.”
“There once was a girl from Artor,
Had an arse that was big as a boar…”
“Big as a boar?” Mila challenged cautiously. “That doesn’t make any sense!”
“You do better then!”
Mila couldn’t believe that she was actually enjoying this exchange. She wracked her brain for a moment and then began,
“There once was a girl from Artor,
Her name was Eliza Picor
She had tiny red lumps
On her breasts and her rump
They were permanent, itchy and sore.”
Jezebel’s full-bellied laughter echoed throughout the entire apartment .
They went on like this until, eventually, Jezebel called for a servant to bring two large plates of food. The smell of sesame-roasted root vegetables served alongside small, hot balls of spiced mince and cabbage filled the air, and Mila looked agonisingly over at Jezebel who smiled and inclined her head in concession.
Mila ate properly, for the first time in days.