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I grimaced. “You’re allowed to talk.”
She looked up at me, skin flushed. “Thank you, my Lady, but I won’t be bothering you further. Is there anything else you need?”
I studied her face. The way she stood. Feet together. Hands folded in front, slightly wringing her fingers in embarrassment or shame or…fear?
“I’m serious. You’re allowed to speak. Say whatever you want. I don’t care. Saints know I could use a friend around here.” I said, immediately regretting the slip in my façade of royalty. I turned to make my bed.
The young woman rushed over, all but shooing me away. “Please, my Lady, allow me.”
I hated this. Ihatedthis. This was awkward. I could make my own bed. “I’m so sorry, but what is your name again?”
“Wrena, my Lady,” she said as she continued to straighten my sheets.
“Wrena, I’m Petra. You can call me Petra. You don’t have to refer to me as a lady.”
“Yes, Miss Petra.”
“Miss Petra?” I snorted, stifling a laugh. “How old are you Wrena?” She looked close to my age.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“And I’m twenty-four. Therefore, you don’t need to be calling me by any Saints forsaken title. We are peers.” She averted her gaze as she finished making the bed and returned to her rigid standing position. “Okay?”
“Okay, Petra,” she said with a soft smile.
“See? Not so bad, is it?” It was that moment that I realized… I was lonely. Mind-numbingly, atrociously, reallyfuckinglonely. Marita’s company was pleasant, but I wasn’t sure the last time I’d seen another person my age, aside from the occasional younger guard, and they didn’t dare look too long in my direction.
I surveyed Wrena again. We had both taken paths in life that led us to the Low Royal Castle. The only difference was the positions we held. “Well, Wrena, I’ve been here for about four months now and I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with anyone remotely close to my age.”
Another soft laugh rose from Wrena. The sound was surprisingly refreshing.Normal.It stirred memories of Larka’s laugh. A pang hit my chest, lightning quick and searing, but I quickly swallowed the hurt. “There are actually quite a few handmaidens around your age, my La–” she caught herself. “Petra,” she said, bobbing her head slightly to emphasize the titleless-ness of it. “Kleia, Ayin, Charlot, all of us are close in age.”
“Well feel free to pass along the message that I don’t bite,” I said as cheerfully as I could, but the loneliness coated my words.
“I will. We’re told to keep conversations to a minimum, and you’ve always seemed so sad, so no one thought it was appropriate to speak with you.”
Sad.I wasvisiblysad. “I’m not sad,” I said with a smile. “I’m just…adjusting. And like I said, I could use some friends here. You and your handmaidens are always permitted to speak in my presence.”In my presence.What an uncomfortable phrase. I almost wrinkled my nose. “Hell, do more than speak. Scream, sing, I don’t care. So long as you don’t call me a lady.”
“Thank you, Petra.” We exchanged smiles. I began to turn to my bathing chamber to prepare for what was bound to be an uncomfortable breakfast with my mother. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I paused before saying half-jokingly, “A way out of here.”
???
“G’morning, Ma,” I droned as I pulled out a chair at a small table in the courtyard. The wrought iron chair was intricately delicate, but it groaned as I scraped it across the stone patio. An unpleasantness in a pleasant place. Just like me.
“Good morning, Petra,” my mother said, her lilting voice heavy with impending conversation. I took a moment to ground myself, taking in my surroundings to remind myself that this was real life. A deep breath filled my nostrils with the scent of the jasmine snaking along the trellises that lined the gazebo overhead. A fat bumblebee buzzed lazily along the flowers. A fountain babbled peacefully behind me. Guards stood a healthy distance away near the two exits — one back to the Low Royal portion of the castle, and the other an informal entrance into the King’s Keep which currently loomed threateningly overhead.
I turned to the table and surveyed the array of food. This was food we could have never dreamed of a few years ago. The food on the table in front of me would have fed our family for aweek.I reached for the steaming teapot to my right, gingerly filling my teacup, spilling a few drops onto the navy tablecloth. “Shit,” I whispered. I heard my mother’s exasperated sigh. I looked up at her and returned her sigh. “Yes?”
“I’m worried, Petra,” she said, and I could hear it in her voice. Some of the fragility she had worked so diligently to harden peeked through. “If you don’t pass Initiation, you know what will happen.”
For many, it was death. The other option was exile. The young women who didn’t pass Initiation into the court to enter the marriage market were either killed on the spot or cast out of the city walls to the Onyx Pass, forbidden to enter Eserene for the rest of their lives. Their families, their friends, their possessions, theirlives,all left behind. Outside the walls between Eserene and the nearest village, Blindbarrow, all manner of beasts both human and animal prowled through the Onyx Pass. Not one exiled Initiate had ever made it to Blindbarrow. The choice between death or exile was made in the moment by the Board of Blood, based on how sadistic they were feeling.
The practice was barbaric.
The practice was something I never had to consider under our Inkwell roof.
And the practice was now my future.
