Nobody's Lady (16 page)

Jaron flipped the paper over. The image had changed to the very table at which we sat, down to the detail of Jaron holding a piece of paper over the mugs and plates on the table. My drawing self stared at the paper in Jaron’s hands, my hair longer and thicker in the back than I pictured. I was afraid to move. Afraid to see the change in the picture.

“It follows Luuk.” The drawing of Jurij turned to the drawing of me. And as if to prove his point, Luuk walked to the fire, grabbing the poker to turn over the log. My drawing disappeared from view as just Jaron at the edge of the table remained in focus, the image echoing Luuk’s steps across the room.

I gripped the golden copper through the band at my waist. “Why is the lord watching Luuk?”

No one had an answer.

***

Jurij didn’t come home—didn’t come back to
my
home—that night. Or the night after. For the second morning in a row, I carved at the table in my shack, my blade moving too fast without my attention. I sliced the tip of my finger, cursing as I dropped the half-formed wooden cow on the table. Rushing to the basin, I tipped a bit of the water out of the nearby bucket to wash the blood away. My finger stung as I washed it clean of the blood, only for it to ooze out in red again seconds later.

Blood on the chest of Elric, the man who so looked like Ailill. There was nothing, and then there was a pool of blood.

I grabbed a rag and twisted it around my finger, pulling it tight and wincing at the pain. I clearly had no idea how to fix this. Ingrith once told me, right here in this room, about a man who’d been a “healer.” Only she didn’t mean “healer” like the men from Ailill’s village, who had a power I still couldn’t explain. She meant someone who fixed your wounds and tended to your illnesses, but without the violet glow. Without the assistance of something I didn’t understand pouring out from his fingers.

Little Ailill cradling my face to remove the bruise from the slap. Little Ailill taking my pain away after the stocks.

When I was so cold to him during my first night in the castle, what was going through that same person’s head?

“This will be your room.” He nodded toward the nearest specter, who seemed to read his intent as he went to the window and pulled back the drapes. I expected to see dust flying, but it was annoyingly pristine. “You may let the light in as you please.”

Thank you for the instruction on how to push aside drapes.
I scoffed loudly. But I was determined not to speak to him.

Ailill stiffened just slightly, but I was too concerned with seeing the prison hidden beneath the extravagantly plush bed and the shimmering baubles before the mirror. A mirror. I’d even have my own mirror! I squashed that feeling of gratitude and wonder as soon as I felt it.

He took you from your home. Against your will. Isn’t he supposed to do what you want him to do? He refused to help your mother when you needed help the most.

I pushed past the specters and back into the hallway.

“Are you hungry?” Ailill asked, appearing at my side. “I have instructed a meal to be ready as soon as we have finished our tour.”

I stopped in my tracks, not sure what would be worse, dining with him or continuing on this tour of his extravagances. Probably the former. I’d never eaten with a masked man before, let alone one who was so good at getting my blood boiling. Besides, I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t imagine being hungry ever again. I shrugged.

Ailill joined his hands behind his back. “This castle
…
displeases you?”

You displease me, not the castle.
I didn’t say it, but it was almost like he’d heard me anyway. He flinched. I didn’t say anything.

“Is there anything I can do
…
to make you more comfortable?”

I clenched my jaw, knowing I couldn’t ask him to let me go. Knowing everyone expected me to just accept him. Just live forever with this man I didn’t even know. With this man who’d done nothing to help my mother!

The tour continued after that in near silence, and the disastrous meal together—followed by the truth about my mother.
No, not the truth. Not the whole truth. Just enough for me to despise him even more without realizing
…

Without realizing it was that scared little boy beneath it all. He’d been so eager to please me. He’d pushed down all the anger he’d felt about what I’d done to him, and he’d tried to be friends again. He’d hoped I was the “Olivière” he’d gotten to know as a child. He’d hoped I’d come to free him, that I would reward his efforts with, at the very least, a tender smile.

It’s no wonder he treated you cruelly after that.
I leaned against the table with my good hand, drumming my fingers across the surface. Two days I’d been alone. Two days I’d finally been back to the solitude I’d enjoyed at the start of the summer, and peace was still unattainable. My mind clouded freely with thoughts and images I’d done such a good job of suppressing until now.

“Doesn’t everyone in the village say the lord is always watching?”

“Watching, perhaps, when it strikes his fancy.”

Ailill had been so smug, then, as if daring me to guess what exactly in the village might have captured his interest.

I felt my chest tighten at the memory and almost lost my balance. I’d clutched the injured hand to my breast but reached out to steady myself, wincing at the pressure. The rag was dyed red, the blood dripping out onto the table.

What was it Mother had taught me? What kind of leaves would make a poultice? My head swam, flashes of memories searing into my mind. I ran back to the basin, leaning over, almost sure I was going to throw up. Darkness danced at the edges of my sight as I stared at the puddle of water dyed red.

So Luuk had “struck his fancy.”
A child would have been my last guess. He was Jurij’s brother, and Ailill was sensitive about how I’d once felt about Jurij. But why Luuk, then, and not Jurij himself? Of course, this was me seeking a message in every coded action, a message meant for myself when I knew he was no longer in love with me. If he ever truly was.

What was I supposed to tell Jaron and the others? I’d never seen moving pictures on a page and could only guess that was how Ailill was “always watching.” But I’d seen things—I’d
lived
things—that couldn’t be explained. That would turn everything upside down far more than their piece of paper.

I dry-heaved over the red-dyed basin. My blood soaked through the rag, dropping one crimson pearl after the other onto the water’s surface.

I thought of the time I’d spent in the castle. Of how Ailill had taken Jurij after his wedding, held my mother in a room to which I had no access. I’d worried then that he’d have his revenge on everyone I cared about, no matter how thin the connection. Luuk and Nissa. The Tailors. Alvilda. Father and Elfriede. And I was right to worry. He
was
watching them. He was watching us. He was
still
watching us. He had to be. If he had paper like this, then it only made sense.

But what made little sense was why he’d send the paper. He wouldn’t have
accidentally
written the note on an enchanted piece of paper and ordered it to be given to one of my friends.

I fumbled at my sash for the golden copper with my good hand.
But then why all the indirect messages? Why bother me now, after he told me to leave him alone?

My finger stung, and I felt the pressure of tears stirring under my eyelids, the pounding of the crying I refused to do weighing on my head.
What was the poultice Mother used for cuts?
I wondered again.
Why am I so helpless? Why won’t my thoughts leave me alone?

I took a deep breath, rubbing my good hand across my cheekbone and trying to soak up the moisture that had escaped against my will.
Alone. Alone.
Even when I wasn’t alone, I felt alone. There was no one who could even begin to understand. No one but Ailill. And I wasn’t in the mood for any of his games.

After staring at the blood pooling on the rag over my finger, I straightened my back and grabbed my cloak, swinging it awkwardly over my shoulder with one hand.
You lost her for well over a year. You thought you’d never get her back again. Why haven’t you gone to her?

I may not have been able to tell her everything. But I sure as rain could ask Mother for help.

***

When Elfriede opened the door, I almost turned right around and walked away without a word.
It’s not like you didn’t expect to find her here. Seeing as how her new man has plenty of other women to share his time with.

Elfriede’s lips soured just slightly, but she didn’t study me long. Arrow barked from behind her. I could just make out the swish of his golden tail.

“Shh, Arrow. It’s fine.” She looked at me. “Have you been
crying
?”

I rubbed my cheek again with my good hand, clutching the injured hand tighter against my chest. “No.” I tried peering over her shoulder. “Is Mother in?”

Elfriede chewed her lip, as if considering refusing to answer me. Her gaze fell on the wrapped hand against my chest, and a flicker of something, maybe pity, passed across her pale eyes. She nodded. “Out back.” Then she slammed the door in my face.

I took a deep breath and stepped around the house to the small yard we—they—kept behind the cottage. It’s where we grew our potatoes and other vegetables, just to save a few coppers on the stuff we had to buy from the market. We got most of our daily eggs from the chicken coop.
Their daily eggs.
With how long Father had been not working—since before the rest of the men lost interest in their work, thanks to Mother’s illness—I was certain Mother and Elfriede had been relying on their own crops as much as possible. I wasn’t sure what they would do now that summer was winding to a close.

As I passed the window over the basin, I heard laughter. Elfriede’s delicate peals punctuated by a gaggle of hens. She had company. There was so much work to be done in the village, and Elfriede and her brood had nothing better to do than monopolize my family’s home and whisper about her outcast of a sister with the bloody hand.

“Mother?” I called. I felt lightheaded. Warm, sticky blood crawled down my forearm from beneath the rag.

Mother appeared from around the chicken coop, wiping her hands on her apron. “Noll?” She smiled and reached her arms out for an embrace. “Why haven’t you come by earlier?” She stopped, her face and arms falling. “What happened to your hand?”

I winced as I unwrapped the blood-soaked rag. “I cut it while carving. It won’t stop bleeding.” The rag fell to the ground, soaked and useless.

Mother examined my hand. My finger stung as she turned it over, dyeing her own palms red. “It’s bad, but not too deep. We need a poultice.” She tugged on my elbow and led me back toward the cottage.

I froze, thinking of the women in there.

Mother stopped. “What is it?”

“Elfriede has company.”

Mother nodded. “I invited the girls for dinner. We do that a lot now. Pool our coppers to afford a cut of meat once a week or so. Although I wonder if more of us should follow Roslyn’s example and look for work in the village. There’s plenty of it to be had now.”

I hadn’t thought about how quickly Mother and Father’s savings might deplete, considering how we’d spent so much of it even before the curse broke. And at least back then, Jurij was so concerned with Elfriede’s health and happiness that he gave her all of his earnings from the Tailor Shop so we could afford more food. Now, with neither Father nor Mother nor Elfriede working …

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more help.” Guilt squeezed at my chest. “I haven’t been drowning in riches, but my work is paying off. There’s still enough for me to buy bread and vegetables.” It helped that both were cheaper than they had been in years, to attract more customers, since everyone I knew seemed to be economizing. Every woman, anyway. “I should have brought something.”

“Nonsense. You have your own hearth to heat.” She paused. “But today, you should stay, once we’ve gotten this taken care of.”

“No, I ought to get back.”

“Noll, you live a short walk from here, but I haven’t seen you in months. I’ve tried giving you your space. I just assumed, at some point, you’d finally have enough of it. You’re staying.”

I swallowed, nodding. Even if I was unwelcome, the hostility might prove a distraction.

Mother guided me gently to the door and opened it. “Friede, grind some yarrow.”

Elfriede picked up a bowl from the counter on which she prepared the roast. She pulled a pestle out of the bowl and walked across the room toward us, Arrow’s eyes on her the whole time. “I’ve already prepared it, Mother.”

Mother smiled, and I could almost hear the “what a perfect, helpful daughter” oozing out from between her lips. “Thank you, dear.” She took the bowl and continued dragging me along, only letting me go long enough to pour some water from the bucket into the basin before dunking my hand into it.

Mother added a little water to the bowl and picked up the pestle. I waited, unmoving. Even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel the eyes burning at my back. I’d only spared the women the briefest of glances before being dragged over to the basin. If I knew Elfriede, Marden had to be among their number. I couldn’t for the life of me think of any of her friends I hoped would be there. Somehow, all of Elfriede’s good friends seemed to have been paired with mine. I supposed it only made sense. Most goddesses weren’t a thousand years younger than their men, after all.

Mother spread the poultice over my wound. It stung, but she grabbed harder so I wouldn’t have a chance to pull away.

Someone cleared her throat from the table behind me. “Perhaps we should get back.”

Mother patted my hand dry with her apron, taking care not to touch the goopy mixture at my fingertip. “Marden, dear,” she said without looking up. “You told me you’d stay for dinner.”

I took in the women at the table out of the corner of my eye. Marden twirled her fingers through a curly, dark tendril. “I don’t think we should impose. I didn’t realize you’d have company.”