Curse of the New Age no. 2b3b

She slowly put her hands down when she noticed my reaction.

“Please,” I said, struggling to keep my composure. “Thank you, but please leave.”

She looked concerned.

“Is there no one you trust?” she asked.

“Please, Chef, don’t be offended,” I said, holding my arms over my body, “but that’s not a luxury I have.”

She opened the door, but looked back at me briefly before she stepped through. I hated that I had become a subject of curiosity and pity. When the door shut, I locked it quickly.

In truth, I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I would be heard, and I would be mocked.

“Choose peace,” I muttered under my breath. “Live.”

I unfastened the outer panels of my vestments, turned them around, and attempted to adjust them. Once they felt correct, I tightened them to create the flat triangular frame that hid the breasts of Kyn who had them and created an hour-glass figure for Kyn who didn’t. I made sure the skirting was straight and covered me well. I didn’t have a mirror, but that couldn’t be helped.

When I was ready, I returned to the kitchen.

By the time I arrived, the Chef had two trays of food waiting for me.

“I was able to make his lunch plate as well,” she explained.    

“Thank you,” I said with my head down.

“…and keep your head held high,” she added.

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort me or scold me. I couldn’t tell. Regardless, I straightened up.

“We all have bad days, Lafe,” she said as she looked at me intently.

My eyes grew slightly wide as it dawned on me, what her look seemed to convey. Impossible. I must be imagining things.

“I appreciate your concern, Chef,” I said quickly, as I took the trays from the table and left.

By the time I arrived back at the young master’s house, he was pacing in his room angrily.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

I placed the trays on the table.

“They needed to prepare it,” I said, purposely omitting how long it took me to adjust my complicated clothing without a mirror.

He hurriedly sat down, but before he started to eat, he asked, “Why don’t you eat with me?”

“It wouldn’t be proper,” I answered, as I turned to leave.

“Proper? Is it a rule my parents made?” he asked.

I turned around before walking through the door, so that I was facing him.

“I work for them,” I said flatly. “My job is to teach you. I am not your family. It would not be proper.”

He grabbed one of the bowls from the top tray and threw it across the room. Dried cherries and almonds from the estate’s orchards were flung out of the bowl as it traveled toward me. I instinctively dodged it. It broke on the wall behind me.

“Stop it!” I yelled, finally reaching my limit. “I know you are hurt, but it’s not my fault. I don’t deserve your abuse. Do you think I have a choice? Do you think I want to live like this! Do you think I want you to live like this? What do you think will happen to me if I don’t follow the rules?”

“No choice?” he repeated back to me sarcastically.

“Grow up!” I shouted, fuming.

He was struck speechless for a moment, but then laughed.

“Why?” he asked, with unnerving sincerity. “Why should I? Tell me, Tutor, will I ever have a wife or a child? Will I ever even have friends? What does life matter to me?”

“Because life is better than death,” I answered. “Please, remember that. Remind yourself of that.”

“Why? Are you worried that you’ll be blamed? Are you worried my parents will punish you?”

I needed to leave. If I stayed any longer, I would say things that I would regret, but maybe it was too late for that.

“Please, Young Master,” I responded, calmer now. “Please, don’t say those things.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to hear it?”