13. Ellowyn
Chapter 13
Ellowyn
I t felt like I blinked and the week passed. It was full of planning, preparations, dress fittings, dance lessons, continued propriety work, and even more dress fittings. By the day of the first ball, I was exhausted and more than ready for this week of celebrations to end. I never liked the spotlight, never enjoyed unwanted attention, so the idea of an entire week being dedicated to me was alarming and completely anxiety-inducing.
Peytor and Finian did what they could to try and distract me, but it wasn’t always successful. They were constantly pulled away by their fathers for some mission or other, and I was often left alone with Mother, which is also probably why my mood was soured and my nerves were fried.
On top of everything else that was happening, I had to take time to train Pip. The girl, in no short words, was hopeless. She could, at least, start a fire with a fire starter she had found in the servants’ corridor and was learning to heat my bathwater manually. But she couldn’t select a gown to save her life, and her ability to do anything with my hair was abysmal. It was like she had rocks for fingers. Literally. I ended up picking the majority of my outfits for the week and, in my incredibly rare spare time, I practiced a variety of hairstyles. I was getting much better at braiding my own hair, and had taken to wearing it in one or more braids throughout the week .
On the eve of my first ball, my mother sent her personal maid to do my hair and help me prepare. I blew out a breath of complete relief. While I knew her sending Jaclyn was self-serving—she didn’t want me to be an embarrassment to her and Father’s name—I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of gratitude toward Mother. At least my hair, makeup, and dress would look immaculate for the first night.
The first ball was never a super extravagant affair. Many of the most important dignitaries, and my most serious suitors, wouldn’t arrive until my Awakening Ceremony. Consequently, this first event was relaxed, more of a night party than an actual ball. I was still shocked when I entered and found more people than I had ever met in my entire life filling up the private party space. We used the formal dining hall for the first event, creating an intimate environment. Much of our family had come in from various parts of Hestin, and the children of my father’s cabinet members were also present. There were one or two other dignitaries and their families that had trekked here for tonight, but they were from neighboring territories and the journey was short. The night passed quickly, and my voice was hoarse by the end from speaking to so many people.
But my mother was pleased with my appearance and behavior, which led her to let me sleep in the following day and forgo our propriety lessons in the morning. Which would have been welcomed if I could actually sleep. I kept having weird dreams about the disembodied voice, which continually woke me before dawn. I was running on fumes from the constant planning for this week and my lack of sleep. The morning after the first ball, Jaclyn entered my room much later than normal—Pip was given the day off—and set a warm cup of tea on the table next to my bed.
“This will help with your throat, so drink it all,” she commanded. Her dark-brown eyes roamed my face and body. “And we’ll need to do something about those purple spots under your eyes. Have you not slept?”
Her words weren’t unkind, but I was grouchy and in no mood for ridicule.
“No,” I snapped, “I haven’t slept.”
She cocked her head before nodding. “Then tonight I will give you a sleeping draught as well. You should have said something sooner.”
I gaped at her audacity, eyes wide.
“Drink,” she said again. “I will be back shortly, and we will get dressed for the day. Your mother and I will be accompanying you into the city again for your final dress fittings.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode from my room, leaving it in blissful darkness.
Lord d’Refan was expected by the morning of my Awakening Ceremony, which was tomorrow. Today was an “off” day for the week of celebration, so the staff could clean and prepare our home for the hundreds of people who were invited to my ceremony.
It was a lot to wrap my head around.
I was certain that although this was a day of “rest” it would involve incessant worrying and nagging from my mother. I sighed and finished my tea while awaiting Jaclyn’s return. She was obviously getting my mother ready first, then attending to me, which I didn’t mind. My thoughts drifted to the strange dreams, which had only increased in complexity and strangeness over the last few days. There was still no guidance or word from Jarius about my dreams, and I was beginning to think that I’d imagined the whole interaction in my father’s study. I wondered if they were stress induced, and I certainly hoped that the sleeping tonic Jaclyn brought for me tonight would do the trick.
Tonics were brewed with certain types of magic imbued within them. Wanted a contraception tonic? It had to have a little Destruction Magic, a little Creation Magic, and a little Pleasure Magic mixed together. My sleeping tonic? That had a bit of Destruction Magic that was combined with Air Magic, which was closely linked with dreams. There was a city alchemist who employed a variety of Mages to mix their magic so he could create tonics for all sorts of ailments, but my family didn’t trust anyone outside of their household staff. Regimes had been brought to their knees from a laced tonic or two, and my parents were extra careful to make sure that no poison was unknowingly ingested. Instead, they had sent our Healer to receive alchemist training at Lord d’Refan’s palace, and she infused many of our tonics at home.
As I finished my tea, Jaclyn reentered the room and quickly went about opening my curtains, starting my fire, and heating a bath.
“No breakfast this morning?” I asked as Jaclyn worked.
“No. You know your mother’s rules,” she replied. My mother never ate before a dress fitting, and made sure I followed the same pattern, which I found counterintuitive. Sure, the dress would fit tighter to my body during the fitting, but I had to eat during my party. There’d be nowhere for the food to go if my stomach was cinched into my spine.
Though, come to think of it, maybe that was Mother’s goal.
I huffed and got myself out of bed. Jaclyn quickly approached the wardrobe, selecting a gown in record time. I wondered if she even looked at the options.
“Your mother requested this particular gown today.” Well, that explained the quick selection. It was a light-pink monstrosity with a scooped neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and a long, flowing hem. There was delicate beading throughout that made it sparkle even in the dullest light.
“I hate that color,” I said under my breath. It washed me out and pink was just so...flowery.
Jaclyn raised her eyebrows at me, entirely unimpressed with my annoyance, before continuing to undo the buttons on the back of the dress. She and I both knew it wasn’t worth fighting.
I stripped and took the quickest bath in the history of baths before Jaclyn helped me into my clothes for the day. A pair of dainty pink embroidered slippers accompanied the dress and I had to hold back a gag.
I really hated pink.
I sat at my vanity, and, with deft movements, Jaclyn made incredibly quick work of finger curling my hair and pinning it into a half-up, half-down style. It was one I enjoyed.
“Can you teach Pip how to do my hair, please? And half of the other things needed as my maid,” I said the second part under my breath.
Jaclyn laughed silently behind me.
“The girls have been trying. That is where she is today, in fact. She should be ready and properly trained by the time you leave with a betrothed.”
“I’ll be taking Pip with? What about Talunda?” Jaclyn’s hands froze in my hair.
“Yes, it is customary for a lady to take a personal maid with her to her new home,” she said stiffly. “Talunda notified Bern of her resignation last week. Her child is not doing well, and she wants to be with him before he passes.”
My heart broke at the last part. I missed Talunda and wondered if I’d ever be able to see her again .
Jaclyn finished prepping me for the day and curtsied as I rose and exited from the room. I met Mother in the entryway to our home, and we were escorted into a waiting carriage by two Mage guards. They both stepped onto the back of the carriage, obviously accompanying us into Katiska today, and the driver clicked his tongue, urging the horses into a trot.
Mother was silent for the first part of the ride, seemingly lost in thought. I picked at my fingers absently and gazed out the window, watching again as our country estates gradually changed into more compact housing.
“Stop,” Mother commanded, swatting at my hands.
“Sorry, Mother. I didn’t realize I was doing it,” I said contritely.
“Well start realizing it. Lord d’Refan and your suitors will be here soon. It is imperative that you act according to your station, young lady. We will not be embarrassed by your lack of manners or decorum, am I clear?”
I nodded stiffly. “Yes, Mother.”
I straightened my spine and pushed my mind into the tiny box that I used when I had to act as the Lord of Hestin’s daughter. It helped to compartmentalize portions of myself that were deemed undesirable in order to survive high-society functions.
We were silent for the remainder of the ride and our carriage eventually stopped outside of the seamstress’ shop. We could have had the seamstress come straight to our home, but it figured that Mother wanted people to see me before my ceremony—she wanted that boost in social status that came from people looking at her.
I hated it.
The guards opened the door, and we were escorted into the shop.
It was a quaint building, shoved between a tailor’s shop to the right and a tea house to the left. The outside was painted a stunning black, which matched the tailor shop, but the inside was bright white and airy. The seamstress was an Air Mage and her husband, the tailor next door, was her True Bonded Vessel. Both of their shops had a constant light breeze that flowed throughout, chilling the inside even on the hottest days. I always appreciated the use of her magic because dress fittings were long and stifling, and the dresses were often larger and hotter than they needed to be.
“Lady d’Aelius, Miss Ellowyn,” the seamstress, Kana, greeted us with a curtsy befitting our stations, eyes fixed on the ground. “I have Miss Ellowyn’s dress in one of my back fitting rooms, if you would accompany me?”
My mother motioned for the guards to stay at the front of the shop, and we made our way back to the fitting rooms. There were three rooms, each with a stunning dress hung and ready for fitting. Kana employed a few other girls, but we always had access to her. Perks of being the Lord of Hestin’s daughter and wife, I supposed.
In one of the other rooms was Dria, a socialite whose father was in my father’s cabinet. For all intents and purposes, we should have been friends; we were similar in age, she was a year older, we went to school together, attended the same high-society functions, and were raised with similar expectations. But there was something that just never clicked for us. Dria Awakened last year as a Pleasure Mage—like her parents—and there was distinct bad blood between the two of us. She was rather interested in my brother and had dated him publicly for a few months. He, however, broke it off with her when he realized she made nasty comments to me at school.
While she had previously held back her vitriol toward me in public, she held no such compunction now, unless either of my parents were present. She was still delusional and thought Peytor might make her his wife, even though they wouldn’t be Bonded.
“Dria,” I greeted. I always tried to take the high road in confrontation, especially with my mother present. “You look lovely.”
And she really did. Her dress was slimming and incredibly risqué with a plunging neckline and thin shoulder straps—a fashion that was all the rage in the Southern Territories—and was made of a fabric so deep green it was almost black. There were iridescent sparkles throughout that glimmered even in her most minute movements. It offset her deep raven-black hair and pale skin, her eyes appearing even more green next to the fabric.
I smiled softly at her. Her face transformed from one of disgust at my presence to complete and utterly fake joy when she saw I was accompanied by my mother.
“Ell!” she squealed, pulling out of the seamstress’ reach and wrapping me in a hug. I gagged subtly at the overpowering scent of roses that clung to her. I had to hold back a sneeze and hoped that my eyes didn’t water.
“Hi.” I awkwardly patted her back.
She released me and held me by my shoulders. “I am so excited for your party tomorrow night! Do you like my dress?” She twirled about, showing off the fabric and an incredibly low back. There was almost nothing to the dress.
I nodded, but before I could say anything, my mother interjected.
“Shows quite a bit of skin, doesn’t it, dear?”
Dria’s face fell minutely, but she recovered quickly.
“Yes, but Father says it is all the rage in the South right now. We both felt like the Northern Territories needed a bit more . . . life in them. What better way than through fashion?”
I had to give it to her, her answer and obvious act were good.
My mother pursed her lips.
“Hmm. Perhaps,” is all she said before leading me to my own dressing room.
“It was nice to see you, Dria,” I called before following Mother. Dria simply rolled her eyes and turned sullenly back to her seamstress.
I stepped into the booth and gazed at my dress. It was the exact opposite of Dria’s, if that was possible. Where hers was formfitting and revealing, mine was much larger and extremely conservative. The neck was high and buttoned, the body cinched, and the skirt full. At least the top of the bodice near my neck and the sleeves were sheer.
I sighed internally.
It was not my style in the slightest. Even the color was an odd pale ivory—I guess it was to show innocence and purity, to remind my suitors what I would look like at a wedding. Despite my distaste, I smiled at Mother before closing the curtain to step into the dress. Once it was on, I turned toward the mirror. I looked like a doll my mother dressed up.
It was hideous.
I must’ve worn my emotions on my face because Kana paled when she stepped through the curtain into the small space.
“W-what do you think, miss?” she whispered.
I couldn’t answer her immediately.
“You hate it.”
I gave her a watery smile and ducked my head.
“It’s beautiful, Kana. Thank you.” I touched her shoulder, but she wasn’t convinced, and she worried her thin lower lip between her teeth .
“Your mother didn’t show you her drawings, did she?” Kana was perceptive as always. I shook my head, a tear falling down my face.
Kana quickly wiped it away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, embarrassed that I was crying over a dress—one that probably cost as much as the entirety of Kana’s shop.
Her lips curved into a sad smile, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes glittering with understanding.
“There is no need for an apology, Miss Ellowyn. We are allowed to feel, allowed disappointment and frustration. Your station in life doesn’t change that.”
I nodded and wrung my hands together, choosing to look anywhere but at Kana.
Her calloused fingers gripped my chin lightly and directed my gaze back to her.
“May I give you some advice?” Her expression was open and hopeful, and I nodded in assent.
“Sometimes life isn’t what we want it to be. Sometimes life is simply thrust upon us, and we’re told to make the best of it, even when we feel like we’re unheard and drowning.” Her words were soft and cajoling as she gently stroked my hair and face. I received more care and love from Kana in these few moments than throughout my entire life from my mother. The thought caused a new wave of tears to splash on my face; tears that Kana simply continued to wipe away, never once reprimanding me for showing emotion in public or smudging my makeup.
“And yes, we do have to make the best of it, because that’s just life. But that doesn’t mean you have to simply grit your teeth and bear it. Carve out a piece for you, instead, in the muddy waters of your life. Your mother and father insist on a loveless marriage for political gain? Pick a weird question to ask each suitor. Forced to have lunch with that dreadful Dria?” I gave a wet giggle at her description. “Stare at her forehead the whole time, make her think she has something stuck.” I gasped and Kana winked. “The point is, Ellowyn, that while we will not always get what we want, we have to find what we want within the circumstances given to us.”
She wiped the last of my tears and I stared at her for a moment before clasping my hands over hers.
“Thank you, Kana,” I whispered. “I think I can do that. ”
Kana gave me a dazzling smile and gestured for me to turn around. “Then let’s show her, make her think you love it.” She winked at me before pulling back the curtain.
My mother, as expected, was enamored with the gown. I simply locked my thoughts and feelings away into the box in my mind, going through the motions to get through the appointment. I caught Dria out of the corner of my eye doing a horrid job stifling a laugh at my expense.
Yeah, the dress was bad.
The appointment seemed to last an eternity, but, once it was finally over, my mother ushered me out onto the sidewalk, insisting we needed tea and small bites for lunch, a trip I was happy to oblige, especially after that disaster of a dress fitting and lack of breakfast this morning.
My mother slipped her arm through mine, chatting aimlessly about nothing as we walked down the street.
“Smile, dear,” she said through her teeth. “People are watching.”
I plastered on a fake smile and continued walking toward the lunch shop my mother had in mind. As we approached the shop, we heard a commotion coming from one of the row houses that framed the little lunch spot.
Shouts and the sound of breaking glass were easily detected as we approached. Our guards quickly pulled us back from a growing crowd outside the row house.
There was a cacophony of shouts and exclamations as a scuffle inside one of the homes was brought outside onto the stone-paved streets. Two Mages from Vespera—contracted by Lord d’Refan for Hestin’s use—gripped a bleeding man between them. He was exceptionally tall and lanky with a shock of white-blonde hair and blue eyes so light they were almost white.
I sucked in a sharp gasp.
The man looked so much like Jarius that, for a moment, I thought it was him.
A second quick inspection, however, showed that this particular man was considerably younger than Jarius. I let out a breath, but my relief was short-lived, and my stomach clenched once more as the Mages tossed the man into the street.
He threw his arms out but was too delayed to catch himself.
His face smacked against the stones with an audible crunch , his body flopping uselessly. The man groaned and curled onto his side, blood running freely from his freshly broken nose and from a variety of scrapes on his face.
The two Mages approached the prostrate man while a few others held back the ever-growing crowd by way of an Air Shield. A few bystanders pounded uselessly against the shield, yelling obscenities at the Mages who were now circling the man like prey.
“He’s innocent!”
“Just a boy!”
“Let him live, he wasn’t harming no one!”
The shouts were growing increasingly angrier, and my mother gripped my arm so tightly her nails bit into my skin.
Neither of us noticed, however, our attention was entirely on the man on the ground.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to no one in particular.
My mother seemingly didn’t hear my question, and one of the guards answered.
“He’s a suspected Keeper, miss. An unregistered one. They’re just extolling the punishment deemed by Lord d’Refan and the Northern Territories.” His tone was offhanded and bored, as if he was discussing the weather and not a human being.
I shook my head. “But how do they even know he’s a Keeper?”
“Look at him, miss. His hair, his height, his eyes. Even his skin. They’re all indicative of Solace’s descendants.” A second guard gestured toward the man as he talked, the Mages surrounding him now, extracting punishment from his flesh.
There was the distinct sound of flesh meeting flesh and bones audibly snapping. The Keeper whimpered in pain, occasionally crying out for the Mages to stop.
The crowd grew more agitated as the Mages became more aggressive, and our family guards tensed in anticipation. The crowd was swelling and jostling around, trying desperately to get inside the protective circle, and more than once, my mother and I were inadvertently bumped or hit by a wayward elbow.
“Lady d’Aelius, Miss Ellowyn, it’s no longer safe here,” our head guard said as a random pan flew through the air, just missing our heads. We crouched low and began picking our way back through the mass of bodies.
Our guards formed a protective circle around us, but they could neither block out the sounds of pain and torment nor the aggressive chatter from the masses.
“We don’t want their kind here.”
“The Warlord needs to take his Mages and leave Hestin alone.”
“Fuck Solace and Kaos! Fuck the Warlord!”
There were smaller scuffles now breaking out in the agitated crowd, and my breaths came in pants as we weaved and bobbed through the mass of gathered people. The air was hot and stifling, and it felt like I couldn’t take a full breath.
Just as I thought I would suffocate in the crowd, our guards pushed through, and I gulped in clean, crisp air.
My body shook and no one said a word as Mother and I were hustled to our carriage.
Once inside, we left Katiska and the growing mob at a clipped pace. But even after we reached the city limits and were well into the countryside, I couldn’t shake the utter helplessness and fear. My back was still sweating and my hands shaking as I stared at nothing out the carriage window.
“What will happen to him?” I finally asked in a small voice.
“He’s a perceived traitor to the Northern Territories, Ellowyn. He, and whoever hid him, will receive punishment fit for their crimes.” For once, my mother didn’t sound sharp or proper. Her voice was tired, if even a bit sad. “Your father and his council will have a time cleaning this up and quelling this . . . rebellion.”
I didn’t say anything in return, my thoughts whirring for the remainder of the ride.
That night, I heard the servants talking about the man and family found strung up in the middle of the market square. His tongue had been cut out, his penis, fingers, eyes, and ears all removed and nailed to the board he hung from.
I didn’t ask because inherently I already knew who met their painful end.
The servants’ looks were dark and their whispers quiet .
But it felt like something shifted in the city that day.
And I wasn’t sure what to make of it.