Curse of the New Age no. 2c

I quickly folded the letter. For a moment, I considered burning it. It was dangerous for me to keep it. It was a weakness to hold onto it, I knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So, instead, I just put it back, locked the drawer, and hid the key in the usual place.

I started to take off my clothes, but I kept staring at the door. So, I grabbed a chair and stuffed it under the door handle.

The situation was intolerable, but it was better than starving in the streets.

I quickly dressed myself. The family had provided me with a large clothing allowance. There were only a few tailors in the city who continued to make traditional Kyn clothing. I was able to buy extraordinary pieces. They were elegant and beautiful, consisting of long panels of embroidered thick cloth that disguised the features of my body.

The problem now was that I was in a hurry. I wasn’t in the mood for straps and ties and buttons or lacing or layers. I realized my breathing had changed again. After the initial relief I felt when he left, I slowly began to consider the gravity of the situation.

I had to talk to him. I couldn’t just pretend this didn’t happen.

I steadied my breathing. I tightened and tied the lacing on both sides of the front panel of my vestments. I brushed my hair and tied it up into a high knot. I dotted rouge on my lips and my eyelids. I slipped on my shoes.

I put the chair back where it belonged, took a quick look into the mirror that was hung over my dressing table, turned, and opened the door.

I walked down the hallway and into the large living area that was fitted with a desk for studying and painting, a dining table for eating, and a lounging chair for reading and sulking. He was in the lounge chair.

When he noticed I had come in, he put down his book and sat up to face me.

“Why aren’t you getting me food?”

“They won’t have anything prepared at this time. It’s a half hour until lunch, so you’ll have to wait.”

“What’s wrong with your shirt?”

I was confused until I looked down and realized that the panels of my vestments were inside out. Instead of the beautiful embroidery, there was a mess of colorful raw fibers showing on the outside.

I put my arms over my body, as if that would stop him from noticing.

He stood up and took a step towards me.

“I really did upset you, didn’t I?” he asked.

I lowered my arms, took a deep breath, and looked straight at him.

“Yes, you did. That can’t happen again. Never,” I insisted. “If you need me, simply knock on the door. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You had questions. Some of them, I can answer. Some of them, I can’t.”

He smiled a bit, almost like a smirk, then sat back down.

“But right now, I’m going to go fix my clothes and then I’m going to go get your meal.”

He picked up his book and nestled himself back into the chair as I left.

I returned to my room and untied my vestments, turned them around, and carefully adjusted them before retightening them. I looked in the mirror and smiled a bit.

I was alive.

I was fine.

I chose peace.

Taking care of the young master was a good thing. He was someone who needed me. I could find meaning in that. I needed to focus on what I had, not what I’d lost. I looked over at the drawer that hid the letter.

If anyone finds out, it will all be over.  

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I need to accept the world as it is. I have no power to change anything. All I could do was continue. That had to be enough.

I started walking toward the kitchen early. I took my time. The path was long and very familiar. It was surrounded by various trees, some of which were imported at great cost and were barely able to survive in the new climate. They had to be watered constantly and sometimes wrapped with blankets, but they reminded Mrs. Gannon of home, so they were made to live here.

She had grandiose plans to create an arboretum, but they simply couldn’t afford it. She was less than discreet at times, concerning her frustration with the success of the business.

I often wondered if the family would be happier if they never moved here. The promise of new markets and trading partners never quite met their expectations. They were even so crass as to often blame the young master for their lack of fortune instead of their own poor business choices.

They moved to an area they didn’t understand to import consumer goods. What did they expect?

When I entered the kitchen the head chef immediately asked me where I was that morning.

“I overslept,” I answered matter-of-factly.

“You did, did you?” she remarked with a smile. “We don’t have his tray done yet, but we’ll get it ready for you.”

“Thank you. Also, can you make my tray as well? I’ll take them at the same time today,” I explained. “Oh, and could you give young master a bit extra? He missed his breakfast this morning.”

“You actually care about that boy, don’t you?” the chef asked.

I was a little taken aback.

“Of course.”

Then I paused, wondering if I should say the next thing on my mind or not.

“Is…is that unusual for someone in my position?” I asked.

“The last one didn’t last long,” the chef explained as she began plating some fried summer squash. “He complained about the boy every day.”

“Young Master can be difficult, but considering his situation, I’m surprised he is as polite as he is. The isolation is bound to cause him distress and difficulty.”

I had to watch my words. It was best to keep how I actually felt about the situation to myself. There were four people working in the kitchen at that time. Anything I said would certainly not stay in confidence.

“Well, I hope it’s not too difficult for you,” the chef said as she continued to prepare the trays for me. “It’s a bother for us when he doesn’t have a tutor.”

“I suspect so. Does that happen often?”

“When he was younger, he had a nanny who took care of him for many years, but these days it seems most tutors last only a few months. Then, the family has to find another one, which usually takes a while.”

“What happened to the nanny?” I asked.

The kitchen became quiet suddenly, as if I had said something wrong.

“She…um…,” the chef began to say as she continued to collect food from various areas of the kitchen. “She tried to leave with him. She was caught and…”

It felt like my heart stopped for a moment.

“Was she arrested?” I asked.

The chef nodded as she stacked the trays.

Part of me wondered why they bothered to retrieve him. Wouldn’t it be a relief for the family if he was gone? But then I realized that, to them, their son being taken away would be an embarrassment. They didn’t actually care about his wellbeing, only appearances.

Or was I being unkind? Certainly, imperials loved their families just like we did.

“And then she died,” one of the junior staff added. “She became ill while in jail and she died. Just her luck.”

“I heard it was a horrible death, too,” another staff chimed in. “Boils and bleeding out of her mouth. I knew the curse would come for her.”

The chef handed me the trays.

“Thank you,” I said and promptly left.

Curse? What nonsense, I thought as I returned back to the house.

I confidently entered into the young master’s room and set both trays on the table. He looked up from his book, looking confused.

I left the living area, got a chair from my room, and returned before he had even gotten up. I dragged the chair across the room and put it on the other side of his dining table. I sat on the chair, placed my tray of food in front of me, and started eating.

“Tutor?” he asked, as he put down his book and slowly walked toward me.

“Lafe,” I said. “My name is Lafe.”

He smiled, sat down, and eagerly began eating his meal.

“Lafe, could you call me by my name, too?” he asked.

“I’m not…”

“Are you afraid?”

2c3a. Say his name.

2c3b. Explain that you aren’t allowed to.