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I was almost ill at the sight of her forearm. Scars so deep, so knotted that I didn’t know how she survived them in the first place. A few were spiked with the marks of crude stitches. They snaked across her skin like vines, creating a map of every night she spent with that man. She pushed her sleeve back down to her wrist, her fingers curling to hold it in place. “The veil helps, too.”
The woman in front of me had trudged through the depths of Hell and had the scars to prove it. “The reason I’m telling you this, Petra, is because if I can make it through that, if I can survive that, you can survive this.” I blinked at her, her words bouncing off of me. Though I didn’t intend to, my head began shaking. “The truth is, I know little more about Initiation than you do. We’re trained to instruct you on basic etiquette and self-control, and that's it. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry I have no real help to give you.”
My head continued to shake. “Marita, I had no idea.”
“Good,” she laughed. “I like it that way.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. “But even after all of it, I still wonder what happened to the Lord to make him that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“People aren’t born hateful. People aren’t born with the desire to hurt, to draw blood.” Her voice was small, thoughtful. “I want to know what happened to him to make him a monster.” I nodded slowly. She was right.
Though I hadn’t even sipped from my glass, she leaned forward and topped it off. “To you, Petra,” she said, raising her glass to clink against mine. “May you burn the wicked to ash and rise again.”
???
The echoes of Marita’s story rang through my head as Wrena and I laid on my bed in silence, staring at the rose painted ceiling.
The last time I ever would.
Though we had only known each other a short time, she had become dear to me quickly, much like Marita. She knew much more about me than anyone else in the castle, even my mother. And I felt I knew her well, too.
“So who do you hope to marry when you’re placed on the marriage market like a prize cow?” she asked playfully.
The tone of her voice and the words she said brought a slight smile to my face. “A cow?” I laughed. “I guess that’s better than Ludovicus calling me a pig. I never thought of it like that, but shit. I guess I will be a prize cow on the market. No, actually I’ll be just a regular old cow. Emphasis onold.”
Wrena’s laugh was a bell in the dim light of the remnants of the sunset. I had taken my dinner in my room and requested Wrena join me. She once again sat and listened to me, dampening any emotions on her face in favor of letting me express mine.
“Will I still be your handmaiden when you’re married off?”When.The positivity was a sorrowful reminder of what was to come, but I entertained the thought.
“Would you like to be?” I asked.
“Well, yes.”
“Youwantto be a handmaiden?”
She pursed her lips, looking around the room.
“Then it’s settled.” I cut her off before she could reply. “When I’m royal I will release you of your duties and you can live with me in my residence.Iwill allow you to marry. I’ll set up a meeting between you and the Prince of Zidderune myself.” She let a soft giggle float through the room. We sat in companionable silence, ignoring the reality that snaked down my spine. “I’m assuming you’ll be reassigned after tomorrow.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. “None of that talk.”
“I’m only being realistic.”
“None of it!” she cut in.
“Thank you,” I blurted. “For listening. For being a friend when you didn’t have to be.”
She turned her head toward me. “You needed one. But I think I did too.” She smiled softly. “Plus, the Initiate I last served was dreadful. Everyday with her was a nightmare at best, a walk through the deepest pits of Hell at worst.”
“Oh?”
“Daughter of Lord and Lady Saursky. Lady Cherina was her name.” She sneered as she said it, contorting her face in disgust. “Wretched creature. She squeezed every drop she could out of that title. She’d send us on errands across the castle, asking for biscuits or wine or cherries, and when we’d return, she’d berate us, telling us we got the wrong ones or too many or not enough. She slapped Kleia clean across the face for looking her in the eye.”
“Saints,” I said, wincing.
“So, my Lady Petra, you are a dream,” she sighed.
“And did she make it through Initiation?”
