You Are Mine (10 page)

I can do nothing but stare at him as
he heads to the servants. Several listen to him. A tarnished, with
a chiseled face, replies. One of the other servants, a lower class
girl only a few years older than me, steps out of line and comes to
us.

“
When you're ready, I'll
give you a tour and you can pick out lodgings most to your
liking.”

Cynthia's eyes are as wide and
confused as mine feel. Once I'm finally able to speak, I say, “Are
you sure we're to choose our own rooms?”

“
Yes, if you wish.” She
studies us for a moment. “I can pick instead, if you
like.”

Cynthia and I exchange a look. She's
smiling. I've never before seen such a smile from her. All
remaining tiredness and sickness flee.

“
The tour would be
perfect.”

“
Very well. If you'll come
with me please.”

As we follow her into the house, we
pass the Envadi. I clench my shaking hands and risk a peek back.
His gaze meets mine, though he's still speaking to a servant. I
trip and hurry to right myself, this time sure to watch where I'm
going. Though I don't look again, I feel his gaze still on me. What
is he planning to do to me?

***

By the time I plop down on the window
bench in the turret, I don't think I will ever stand, and certainly
never walk, again. It's the last room of the tour. We haven't even
seen the grounds yet, but I could care less. Cynthia slumps beside
me.

“
I didn't think this day
could get any more exhausting,” she says. “Two days now, I
guess.”

“
Can I do anything to
help?” the servant asks.

I look around the room for the first
time. The walls are curved all around as they were in the other
turrets, except for a little flat portion hiding a water closet.
Next to which is a privacy screen and I assume there is a bathing
basin behind it like others we've seen. This room is a full circle,
the only access is a door at the top of stairs, leading back where
we came from. I can't possibly climb them right now. It's a wonder
I even made it up here. Though the floors seem to be holding our
weight just fine, which eases some of my worries.

There's plenty more furniture than I
need, chairs and sofas and tables, but I only have eyes for the
bed. Not as massive as the one at Thomas's, but just big enough for
me. My choice is the only choice I'm really allowed given my
current state. Did the Envadi plan it this way?

“
I think this will be my
room. If it's acceptable.”

She nods. “I'll let you know if
there's a problem.”

“
Perhaps I'll take the one
at the bottom of the stairs,” Cynthia says. “That way we'll be
close.”

“
Would you rather have
this room? You can if you would like.”

“
Oh, no. If it wasn't for
you we wouldn't be here anyway. Besides, you'll enjoy all these
windows more than I will.”

Things like this remind me how
wonderful she can be. “That's true.”

“
Can I bring some
breakfast?” the servant asks. “Or would you prefer I draw a
bath?”

I'm sticky from traveling, but also
have an empty stomach. I don't remember the last time I ate.
“Breakfast, I think.”

“
Yes, food would be most
welcome,” Cynthia says.

The servant nods. “I'll get two trays
and your things sent up.” She leaves.

I try to pay more attention to my new
room. My very own. Not just for a week, but for good. Or at least
until I marry. I don't suppose he'll let me stay here. Mother's
room was always close to Father's. I shiver and chase the thought
away, replacing it with ones of furniture.

The bed has its headboard curving
along the wall. Night tables on each side are also curving. By the
window where we're seated are a small table and three chairs.
There's also a vanity curving like the others. A small mirror rests
on it. More like the one at home than at Thomas's, but easy to see
in to. Above it is another window. A third window lies between the
stairs and the bed.

“
It's rather large,” I
say. “Less cramped than our house full of girls.”

“
Yes,” Cynthia replies,
but with a wistful note. “Certainly quieter.”

She always did spend more time with
our sisters than I did. I suppose I spent too much time trying to
hide from Father or taking their places for punishments. I still
miss them. Perhaps not the same way that brings longing to
Cynthia's eyes.

A short while later the servant
returns with two trays. She stands off to the side as we settle at
the table. Biscuits and chocolate. I devour them, not even taking
the time to dunk the thin, sweet wafer in my thick drink. Once my
appetite settles, I slow and eat some fruit as well.

I peek at the servant often throughout
the meal. As it comes to a close, I work up enough courage to ask,
“Do you know in what room Chancellor Zade is staying?”

“
I believe he's chosen the
back turret on the west side of the house.”

Can I really be that fortunate? All
the way on the other side of the house?

“
You should easily be able
to hide from him if that's the case,” Cynthia whispers.

The servant's face remains
impassive.

I respond, “At least until the
wedding.”

Chapter Nine

T
he freedom I gain from being in a new house is odd. All
chores are done by the servants. No sisters to keep an eye on and
shield from Father. Only Cynthia, but even my relationship with her
is changing. There's no need for me to cover for her. It's brought
such a relief, more than I thought would happen.

We spend several days staying mostly
in one of our rooms. Because of it, I find it easier and easier to
wear less face paint, something I've always wanted. Though I do put
on a bit more when we attend dinner with the Envadi. Those affairs
are more quiet than at home. The Envadi never speaks as Father
would. Not to yell or punish, yet no babbling on about other
warlocks either.

But this morning, something changed.
When a servant was clearing my room, which is strange enough to get
used to, she said we didn't have to stay here all the time. We're
free to explore the house and the grounds at will.

I don't know if she has the authority
to give permission, but I can't help but want it to be true. The
rooms, despite their size, have grown confining in the last few
days. Cynthia doesn't seem to mind the confinement and chooses to
stay in her room, but I'm not wasting an opportunity to get
out.

“
Are you sure you won't
join me?”

She doesn't look up from her
embroidery. “I can't believe you're going. The Envadi is probably
setting some sort of trap.”

“
I'm tired of these rooms.
We didn't have a lot of space at Father's, but at least we could go
outside and to class. Never thought I would miss class.” I shake my
head. I don't really miss learning how I'm never going to be up to
the standards a woman should, but this monotony is overbearing. “If
something bad happens, it won't be any different than
before.”

“
Before you avoided
trouble instead of racing headlong into it.”

Except for the times I said too much
or took on my sisters punishments, which was all the time. “I'll be
cautious.”

“
I'll be here when you
need a shoulder to cry on.”

“
I don't cry.”

“
Just the same, I'll be
here.”

I pick at my gloves hoping she's wrong
and exit the room. The house is lovely. Lovelier than I remember,
though I suppose being well rested, fed, and not having the shock
of my intended being killed and replaced by a barbarian before
looking it over, helps.

Rugs cover the length of the halls,
cushioning my steps. Pictures, mostly nature scenes, cover the
walls. A few women with their large, rounded bellies, and several
with warlocks are scattered among them. Tables sit every few feet
with vases of fresh flowers, filling the air with their subtle and
sweet fragrance. Though I enjoy their scent, keeping so many fresh
flowers with a house of only three occupants and their servants is
a lot of extra work.

I randomly pick doors to open and peek
in, though I avoid the area by the Envadi's turret. There are so
many rooms, all with such varying styles and colors. Nothing sticks
out. I wander through halls and stairways until I open a door to
reveal something different.

This one is as big as one floor of
Father's house, smelling of old paper. Shelves cover the walls,
floor to ceiling, books filling them. I never knew so many books
existed. Father has some, but those wouldn't fill one bookshelf
here. What other words could they contain? If they're all like
Woman's Canon, I've no use for them. Still, the idea they might
have more tugs at me until it pulls me further into the room. I'm
not supposed to touch them. What if someone caught me just being in
here with them? I focus on other things, while the books linger in
my mind.

Curtains hang from the ceiling to the
floor in several places. When I pull one open, there's a window
taller than me looking over the front of the manor. The others open
to reveal more of the front and lake side of the manor. The lake is
bigger than I thought it would be, swelling across the land. On the
side closest to the manor is a little dock with a boat bobbing
beside it.

After letting the curtain fall back
into place, I try to continue ignoring the call of the surrounding
books. I focus on all the chairs, sofas, and tables. The council
meeting was off limits, but I imagine something like this would
suit their needs. Lots of places for warlocks to sit and do
whatever it is they do. Memories of being confined to my room on
those days are hot, sticky, and unpleasant. I push them
away.

Several minutes pass and nobody has
wandered in. The books are still calling. What if they aren't all
like the Woman's Canon? They can't all be, can they? I move closer
to them. Most are thinner than the only book I'm allowed, a few are
fatter.

No one is around, what harm could it
do to look?

I peruse the bookshelves,
searching for something worth the risk. Something that will show me
a world outside the Woman's Canon. My search stops on one
titled
The Light of Day
.
I rest my hand upon it. Supple and
bumpy. Still, no one comes.

With a tug, I remove it from the
shelf. It's tiny in my hands compared to what I'm used to. Easier
to hide. I run a finger on the edge of its spine. It's softer than
the Woman's Canon.

With a silent hope I'm not bringing
trouble on myself, I open it. The smell of old paper grows
stronger. I flip a few pages, then hear footsteps thumping down the
hall. Hugging the book to me, I lunge to a nearby couch and hunker
behind it.

The hinges of the door squeak as it
opens. A slight pause, then the footsteps enter the room. I quiet
my breathing. Oh, how Cynthia was right! I'll be punished for this.
The extra space the house provides can't hide me if another comes
in the same room as me. I shouldn't have given in to my desires on
the word of a servant. Warlocks have the final say,
always.

My legs burn from keeping huddled.
It's been too long since I've used my muscles for such a purpose.
It's silent for several minutes. The pang in my legs increases to a
stab. If I continue like this, I'll give myself away. I peek my
head up. The Envadi!

I duck my head down and hold my
breathe. He's staring at a nearby bookshelf. Just staring. My lungs
start to burn from lack of oxygen. I resume breathing, but it's too
loud. I hold it again.

My muscles throb. Gradually, I lower
myself to the ground. My dress rustles. I bite my lower lip. The
footsteps move closer. He's at the bookshelf just a few steps from
me. Of all the shelves in this room, why did he have to pick that
one? If he turns his head he'll see me. I close my eyes.

My hands tighten around the book. The
book. I shouldn't even have this. How much worse will my punishment
be if I'm caught with it? Can I shove it under the couch? Maybe,
but it might make noise and catch his attention. Blast.

After a few moments, the footsteps
return, but this time leading away from me. I let out my breath as
quietly as I can. The door squeaks open and closes. Did he
leave?

I wait another few moments in silence.
I hear nothing. Did he really leave then? I peek around the room
again. Empty. I sigh and rub my sore legs with my free hand. Once
they feel a bit better, I grab the back of the couch and hoist
myself up. My hands are shaking.

Wasting no time, I head for the door
until I realize the book is still in my hands. Do I take it with or
put it away? It almost got me caught. Almost brought punishment.
But it didn't and I want to know what it says. The brief glimpse I
got seemed different than the Woman's Canon. More than ever, I want
something new. Can I compound the rule I've already broken by
taking it with?

Cynthia says I'm reckless. Reckless
I'll be. Book in hand, I move to the door. I twist the handle and
ease it open a crack. No one appears to be in the hall. I ease it
open further and stick my head out so I can see deeper into the
passage. Empty.