Curse of the New Age no. 2b3a

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

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I began to sob right in front of her. I cried and she extended her arms to me, and I put my head on her shoulder.

“Life has been hard on you, hasn’t it?”

I nodded, with my head still on her shoulder. She put her hand on the back of my head.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked.

In a way, I was trying to assure myself of what was happening. Was she really being nice to me?

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

We both knew what the answer to that was. I was a local. She was imperial. That past was a recent memory. It was barely the past. Her comfort felt strange because part of me, truly, hated every single one of them, but I received her comfort all the same.

“Now, let me help you,” she said disengaging.

I nodded.

She unclasped my outer panels, switched them around, and then reached around me to redress me. She tried to hold the panels straight. Once they were aligned, I held them close to my body. She refastened my vestments as I wondered if she noticed the details of my body. Had I made a horrible mistake?

I stood there, nervously, as she tightened the lacing. Every sharp tug she made tightened the panels against my body. It felt nice in a way that made me ashamed. I had been alone for a very long time.

“There,” she proclaimed triumphantly once she had tied everything up.

“Thank you,” I said, swallowing nervously.

“I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?”

I didn’t know what to say. She seemed genuinely worried.

“You don’t have to be so nervous,” she continued, “I won’t tell a soul. I have my own secrets.”

I must have looked confused.

She slowly brought her hand to my face and wiped my tears. Why was I letting her touch me? Was I this desperate for affection?

“In some ways, I envy you,” she said hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure it was something she should say out loud. “Anyway, we both have to get back to work.”

She started toward the door, but my curiosity overcame my good sense.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, more pointedly than I intended.

She looked back and her face was pale. She was usually so confident and in control. I was stunned. I regretted asking. I should have avoided this conversation. What had I done?

“It’s only fair,” she whispered under her breath. Then, she looked at me with more confidence, “Is it true, among the locals, that some of you love regardless of gender?”

Was that all? Was that her secret?

Imperials were very strange. They insisted that every child was either a boy or a girl. Boys always grew up to be men. Girls always grew up to be women. The only acceptable romantic or sexual relationships were between one man and one woman. No wonder she was afraid.

I nodded enthusiastically. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

“Yes, there are many locals like that,” I said, smiling at my own thoughts and memories. “Some of them are quite taken with Kyn, bit of a bother.”

I had a laugh until our eyes met, and I noticed she was mortified. She was practically shaking.

Oh no.

She quickly left the room.

I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to be embarrassed, but she had already left. I would have never guessed that the chef fancied me, and now I offended her.

I just wanted this day to be over.

I could hear her fast footsteps echo through the hall and the door to the kitchen slam. She immediately started barking orders at her staff, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

I waited a moment, took a deep breath to compose myself, blew out the lamp, and left the room. I walked into the kitchen, trying to pretend that nothing had happened.

One of the staff timidly handed me three trays of food. The chef was making herself busy stirring something and explaining that the junior staff wasn’t doing it properly. She wouldn’t even look over at me.

I left.

The three trays were heavier than I was used to and my arms became tired by the time I returned to the young master’s house. I suspected one was the snack tray they started and the other two were lunch trays.

When I entered his living area, he was still sulking in his chair. I put the trays down on his dining table and rubbed my arms.

“What took you so long?” he started to ask, but then trailed off when he saw me. “Tutor, have you been crying?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I took one of the lunch trays and turned to leave.

“Why don’t you eat with me?” he asked. “I’m sorry about before, but I really don’t want to be alone so much. I didn’t make you cry, did I? I said I was sorry.”

2b3a4a. Leave.
2b3a4b. Join him.