The Girl Who Cried...
1966 Words
The rays of the late afternoon sun slipped through the thick shade of the trees and fell across Chalice’s face in scattered flecks of light.
She lay in the hammock with her eyes closed, dark hair spread across the white fabric like spilled ink.
After a while, she opened her eyes slightly and looked up through the leaves overhead. The hammock rocked gently beneath her.
This was her favourite time of day—the only time her attendants allowed her outdoors.
No veil. No gloves. No layers of cloth covering every inch of her skin.
Only a light dress, her bare feet hanging over the edge of the hammock, her hands loose at her sides, and sunlight warming the parts of her the world usually never touched.
She breathed in deeply and smiled.
“Is everything alright, My Lady?”
Ona’s soft voice reminded Chalice she was not alone.
She let out a quiet sigh and turned her head.
“I’m alright, Ona.” She smiled faintly. “I’m only enjoying the sun.”
Ona nodded and stepped back. Only then did Chalice notice the other girls seated nearby in a loose half-circle across the grass.
Gia.
Katya.
Quinn.
All dressed uniformly in white.
Her brows drew together.
One was missing.
“Yulie was called to check your dress for The Appraisal, My Lady,” Ona said quietly. “Mistress Gertrude confirmed it arrived a while ago.”
Chalice looked at her for a moment before nodding.
Of course.
If it had been anyone else, she might have found it unsettling—having questions answered before she asked them, having her smile called out before it settled. But this was normal. Her life had always been noticed.
She turned back to the leaves overhead.
She had only just closed her eyes again when her peace was interrupted. Faint at first, then growing louder—shrieks, laughter, hurried footsteps.
Before Chalice reacted, the attendants did.
Ona straightened. Katya set aside the tray of apples she had been slicing. The four shifted subtly closer—not alarmed, only positioning themselves between Chalice and whatever approached.
Chalice opened her eyes. Then smiled.
She knew those voices. Her troublesome little siblings.
At this point, hardly a day passed without one of them earning Gertrude’s wrath.
Moments later, they burst into the garden. Darnell first. Elara close behind. Peony chasing after them.
The moment they spotted the attendants standing near the hammock, all three changed direction and darted behind the trees the hammock was tied to.
“What on earth have you done now?” Chalice asked, turning to look at them.
There was no answer. Only muffled giggling.
Then—
“Where are they?!”
Gertrude’s voice carried through the garden.
Chalice blinked. The triplets immediately stiffened.
Elara pressed herself tighter against the tree and raised a finger to her lips.
“Shh…”
Beside her, Darnell buried his face in his arms to stop laughing. Peony though made no attempt to stop at all.
Chalice snickered.
A moment later, Gertrude appeared. Yulie followed a few steps behind her.
Gertrude stopped in the middle of the garden, eyes sweeping across the space. She looked furious and focused at the same time. So much so that Chalice’s smile faded at once.
“Gertrude?”
The moment Gertrude’s eyes landed on Chalice, the anger left her face. Too quickly. Like something inside her had collapsed. Her expression twisted into panic.
She hurried forward, arms opening helplessly.
“My Lady—” Her voice broken. “I’m finished.”
Chalice sat up straighter. “What happened?”
Gertrude didn’t answer. She paced once. Then again. Hands pressed together.
“I’m done,” she murmured. “I’m finished.”
Chalice frowned.
Yulie finally reached them and quietly leaned toward Ona.
Ona listened.
Something shifted in her face. Not just hers. Gia lowered her eyes. Katya straightened.
Ona stepped closer to the hammock and lowered her voice.
“Your dress for the appraisal has been ruined, My Lady.”
Chalice looked at her. Then she turned slowly toward the triplets behind the trees.
And back to Gertrude.
For a moment, nothing showed on her face. Then she climbed down from the hammock and crossed to her. Quinn moved with her.
“It’s alright,” she said, stopping short of touching Gertrude. “Just breathe.”
Gertrude stared at her.
Then suddenly—
“Eleven months!” Her voice cracked. “It took eleven months to make that dress and to have it brought all the way from Lystra.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “And now it’s sitting in horse s**t!”
She instantly fell silent. Then froze. Her eyes widened as if she’d remembered something worse.
“If your mother finds out…” Her breathing quickened again. “Oh my goodness…”
She lowered herself slowly onto the grass.
Chalice had seen this many times before. Gertrude always allowed herself a moment like this when two many things demanded her attention at once. Afterwards, she would stand up and become sensible again.
Chalice lowered herself too.
Quinn remained nearby. Watching.
“Gertrude,” Chalice said softly, “calm down, alright?” She hesitated. “We can make another one.”
Gertrude looked at her—stunned—like Chalice had spoken another language. Then, her gaze shifted.
“All we have…” she said quietly. “…is two days.”
Two days.
The words settled strangely inside Chalice.
She had always known the appraisal was coming. But it had lived somewhere ahead of her—distant enough to feel unreal.
Many years—now there were only two days. Eleven months to make a dress. One afternoon to ruin it.
She looked at Gertrude again, and suddenly understood that Gertrude was not simply mourning fabric.
For the first time, Chalice wondered whether she should be afraid too.
Chalice watched Gertrude stare into nothing and found she did not know how to comfort her. Because suddenly—she thought she might need comforting too.
“We’ll fix it.” Chalice managed a small smile.
Gertrude stared, face wet with tears. Then she nodded. And quietly—
“I pray your mother can.”
The smile faded slowly from Chalice’s face, melting into something empty.
Gertrude seemed to remember herself. She wiped her face quickly with the palm of her hand and rose to her feet. Chalice stood a moment later.
Gertrude straightened her sleeves. Smoothed her dress with both her hands. Then looked toward the trees. Her voice returned to normal.
“Peony. Darnell. Elara”
Firm. Even. Final.
The triplets emerged one by one from behind the trees. Heads lowered with their hands behind their backs.
Gertrude closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to contain herself. Then opened them.
“Inside.”
Darnell moved first. Elara followed. Peony stayed.
“Peony?” Gertrude called firmly.
Peony looked up. “Mistress Gertrude? May I talk to Chalice for a moment?”
Gertrude’s answer came immediately. “No.”
Chalice looked to Peony. Something about her hesitation felt deliberate. She looked at her a moment longer, then turned to Gertrude.
“Just a moment,” she pleaded. “I’ll send her back to you right after.”
Gertrude paused. Then she nodded once and turned to the attendants.
“Yulie? Gia?”
Yulie and Gia looked up immediately.
“I’ll send for silk tonight,” Gertrude said. Her voice had steadied again. “Work with the seamstresses. We need something suitable before tomorrow night.”
They nodded.
Gertrude took a breath. Then left.
For a moment, Chalice watched her go. Then she looked back at Peony as though remembering she was still there.
She smiled. Or tried to. Then leaned forward slightly.
“What was it?”
Peony looked at her. Then her eyes flicked past Chalice toward the attendants standing nearby.
Chalice followed her gazed to the girls. “Could I have a moment with Peony?”
No one moved. For a brief second, all eyes settled on Ona. Reluctant at first, Ona inclined her head and stepped back. The others followed.
Once the attendants gave way, Peony immediately slipped behind one of the trees again. Chalice blinked. Then she followed.
From behind the trunk, the attendants became harder to see. Not far away. Just hidden enough to feel like privacy. But if they moved around, they would notice.
Chalice lowered herself and squatted in front of Peony.
“Alright. Talk to me.”
Peony leaned forward and whispered. “Will asked me to give this to you.”
At the sound of his name, Chalice’s heart skipped. When Peony pulled out a small vial, Chalice startled.
She looked at it only a second before reacting.
“Put it away.”
Peony blinked.
Chalice glanced around the tree. The attendants remained where they were but Quinn was looking in their direction.
Chalice held Quinn’s gaze for a moment, then looked back at Peony.
“Put it away,” she repeated more quietly.
Peony pushed it back into her pocket, her fingers fumbling around the opening.
Willand.
For a moment, Chalice forgot about everything else. The appraisal. The consequence. She had not seen him since her mother dismissed him.
Questions came all at once. Where was he? How had he reached Peony? Had he come back?
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
She missed him and had not realized how much. Now suddenly, with only two days left, she wished she hadn’t remembered him today.
“Where did you see him?”
“Outside the garden.”
Chalice noticed Peony’s nervousness and smiled to put her at ease. “Listen,” she whispered. “Take it to your room and keep it under your bed. Alright?”
“Am I in trouble?” Peony asked softly.
Chalice smiled wider and shook her head. “We both are.”
Peony’s face softened into a smile, then a snicker. Chalice laughed too.
For a moment they stayed like that, smiling at each other. Then, Peony reached up. Her fingers barely brushed through Chalice’s hair when immediately—
“My Lady.” Quinn’s voice came from nearby. “No touching.”
Peony pulled back.
Chalice looked over her shoulder at Quinn. “It’s only my hair.” A pause. “Please.”
Quinn hesitated. Then lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, My Lady.”
Quinn remained where she stood, refusing them any more privacy. Chalice looked back at Peony and smiled.
“You know I love you.”
Peony smiled bashfully. Then nodded.
“Good girl.” Chalice stood. “Now go find Mistress Gertrude before she starts worrying again.”
Peony turned and began to run. Then Chalice stopped her. Peony looked back. Chalice nodded at her. Peony nodded back, and then ran from the garden.
Chalice walked back to the hammock and slowly climbed into it, lying against the sheet, feet hanging over the edges and her gaze on the leaves overhead.
The sun rays were gone now. No heat seeping through the shade, warming her skin.
She closed her eyes again.
“Apples, My Lady?” Ona’s voice came quietly.
“No.”
“Would you like something to drink, My Lady?”
“No.”
“Perhaps a foot rub.”
“Silence, Ona,” Chalice answered softly. “I would like silence… Please.”
Silence.
Something sat heavily beneath her ribs.
She thought of Willand. And a tingling feeling ran through her body.
She had promised herself never again. She had a duty to her family. A matter of life and death. But now there were only two days left, and somewhere outside these hedges—Willand had come back.
If she saw him—
She already knew.
She would fall.
Again.
- Writer
