I Take Thee

Chapter Four

It took a lot more than a sweet smile and quite a bit of coin to convince Mr Reeves, but after some diplomatic persuasion I managed to get Ceilia out of his employ and into mine. I couldn’t exactly afford another ladies maid, but my gut told me to keep the elf close to me. Dion didn’t say a word the next day, his decision to drink more ale than needed a foolhardy one indeed. I couldn’t help but feel smug as I saw him nursing his ever growing headache. He had only given me a thumbs up and a grimace as he sprinted towards the door, vomiting his guts up onto the cobbles.

Such a fool. Lesson learnt I hope, my friend.

Marie wouldn’t say much either, not that she did on an ordinary day. Was she impressed with my decision to hire another ladies maid? I fancy not. Clearly uncomfortable with our new carriage companion, she sat sullenly peering out of the window, eyes focused on nothing in particular. If we had been closer I would have consulted her first, but we weren’t close. She had made this clear now. When I had announced to my travelling companions that Ceilia would be joining us in service to the Fairspens, all I had received in response was a murmur and a narrowed expression of distaste. On the opposite side of the carriage was my new ladies maid, a bundle of joy at just the prospect of riding inside a carriage. I didn’t see the appeal myself, but that was the price of privilege I would never understand. It was easy to overlook the excitement of a coach ride when it had always been a choice for me and a dream to others.

‘Milady!’ Ceilia squealed as the capital came into view, ‘milady look!’

In the light of day she looked a lot younger, happier even. Even with the lethal set of teeth Ceilia was an elven beauty. The capital could be the making of her. I humoured her and stuck my head out of the carriage, the city of Doria coming into view, the turrets of the castle stretching upwards, endlessly twisting into the blue sky. I could smell the salt of the sea upon the summers breeze, hear the birds circling the port side waiting for an opportunity to snag a fisherman’s catch of the day.

‘It’s beautiful!’ Ceilia interrupts, her eyes gleaming with wonder.

‘Surely you’ve been to Doria before this mistress Ceilia?’ Marie finally pipes up drawing my attention back inside the carriage.

‘Not at all milady’ she replies innocently. I smirk at her, knowing Marie was enjoying Ceilia treating her as if she would treat me, equal. I knew it as soon as she made no move to reprimand or correct her.

‘Pity, I used to travel to Doria every spring with my grandmother’ she says smugly. I remember Marie’s grandmother, pity the woman conveniently forgot about her granddaughter once she remarried. Instead of her living the life of luxury and prestige she so obviously craved with her grandmother, she was left in Hallow with her mother and eight siblings. To say she was bitter was an understatement.

‘How about yourself Ceilia? Do you have family?’ I ask kindly, the thought of dragging her away from them suddenly dawning on me. Why did I not think before I carried out my stupidity? Guilt began to build up in my throat but she happily declared she hadn’t seen her family in many years. Feeling relieved I hadn’t parted daughter from mother or father I suddenly felt an ache in my heart. Before I could ponder further into Ceilia’s situation before I whisked her away, the carriage halted and a handsome, albeit annoying face peered through the window.

‘We have arrived milady’

‘Thank you master Dion’

The mistress and servant bit was getting old now, once I found myself a sword I would batter him for his impertinence. At least I had opted for my usual style of attire this morning. There was no way Marie would wrestle me into another dress until it was absolutely needed. Whilst I hadn’t hated the dress, hadn’t hated how it made me feel like a woman for once, the discomfort was too much for me to endure on a further carriage journey. I had donned a pair of brown leather leggings, a lightweight linen tunic, and a baldric of my own creation. It held a small set of knives at either side and also held what little breasts I had up without the hassle of needing a corset. Over the top of my less than feminine attire I shrugged on my lightweight summer riding coat, it buttoned up at the waist giving me a little more shape that I would have liked. To finish the look I walked downstairs in knee high laced boots, comfortable and practical, not a heel or satin slipper in sight. Marie had practically cursed under her breath when I came down for breakfast this morning.

‘You look like a boy’ she simply said, even noticing my hair coiled up into a coronet, the hair combs tucked into the braid at the back of my head.

‘Best looking boy I’ve seen’ Dion had laughed at my expense, but karma came for him when he threw up his breakfast mere moments after making that comment.

Marie had graciously given Ceilia one of her dresses, on the condition she received a new one once we arrived in the city. On that request I agreed. Marie wore a simple but flattering midnight blue dress, the bodice embroidered with small blue flowers. Against the copper red of her hair, she positively glowed in her gown. Her hair had been neatly pinned up, the colour truly striking against her pale skin. Had she not been wearing the crest of Fairspen upon her left breast, you would have thought she was the lady, and I was the servant. Whilst Marie’s beauty was unparalleled back in Hallow, next to Ceilia she appeared ordinary. Ceilia wore a pale lilac dress, the colour would have washed Marie out but on Ceilia it stunned. Simple in design but pretty, dainty, and perfect for the petite Ceilia.

I let Marie and Ceilia exit the coach before me. I needed a minute to be alone. My mothers book was tucked under the seat of the carriage for safe keeping. Sliding the green leather bound book from its resting place I reread the foreword. My mothers handwriting assuring me, our family motto encouraging me to take a deep breath and step outside. I would represent our family at court and perhaps gain more than wealth? I didn’t long for a crown, but the reputation of a once great family could potentially be salvaged here.

‘Come on Aeryn’ I whispered ‘Let’s do this, bound by the blood of all that is fair’.

Steeling myself, I opened the door and was greeted by the sounds, smells and sights of the city. Let the charade begin. We had pulled up to a three-storey town house from my childhood, the brickwork patchy from years of repairs. The black door ominous with its golden gargoyle knocker. The large arched windows shielded the inside with heavy set velvet curtains, they needed a thorough cleaning. The small gated front garden needed weeding, the remaining flowerpots long since filled with life. It was still more than most could hope for, but on Atlas Rowe where some of the most elite families of fae and humans resided it was a shambles. Luckily the Rowe was quiet for our arrival, I went to help bring in the luggage but was shut down immediately by Marie. I would love to have met the person who penned the rules on what a lady could or could not do, no doubt it was a man.

‘Milady, this is incredible’ Ceilia echoed from the third floor, I glanced upwards, her impish face peeping over the mahogany banisters of the spiral staircase. It really was a miracle there were no squatters residing in this place. I glided my hand up the banister, the wood in desperate need of a good polish. The floorboards creaked, there was a tear in the hallway carpet and dust had blanketed the white sheets so much so they were a dingy grey. It wasn’t far from the skin of the elf I had met yesterday as she delivered her foreboding warning.

Finally, I reached the door of my mother's bedroom, my hand hovering over the brass doorknob. I didn’t know what I expected but it wasn’t the emptiness that met my eyes. The air was stagnant with time, the furniture just as was when she had stayed here. The canopied bed still had the same sea foam-coloured sheets, the curtains still had the tassels dangling off them. My mother's vanity still held bottles of perfumes, their contents evaporated over the years. The mirror wasn’t the same though…

I strode over to the window and threw back the curtains, the afternoon light hitting me square on, dust glittering in the sun. I coughed up half of the particles cursing myself.

‘Milady?’

‘Yes Marie?’ I didn’t need to turn to know who darkened my doorway. The long list of things to do to ready this house growing longer by the second. It was the mistress of the house’s job to employ a housekeeper to get things in order. Well, this lady didn’t have the money for a housekeeper, so I rolled up my sleeves.

‘Should I put mistress Ceilia to work?’ She asks, eager to bark orders at someone other than myself, Dion or the coachman, Mr Dodds.

‘We are all going to be drowning in work Marie, have Dion and master Dodds clean out the fireplaces and begin waxing the floors, you and I will tackle the living room, parlour and kitchen’ I said giving us the bulk of the work ‘Ceilia can begin stripping the sheets, dusting and polishing, then she can run and find the laundress’.

‘You’re trusting an elf to not sell off your families expensive bedlinen?’

‘Why would I otherwise not?’

‘Because, and begging your pardon but we hardly know her’ Marie makes an excellent point, but I saw how hard she had worked at the inn and her pleading for her job told me she must have a good work ethic.

‘Fine’ I consider ‘Ceilia can work with me, and you will be trusted with the laundress’.

Whilst I didn’t doubt Marie’s concern for Ceilia being a thief, I believed it more likely she wanted to shirk the hard labour involved with cleaning the downstairs of the house.

‘Yes milady’ Marie said swiftly before I could change my mind. She really was a crafty one, perhaps there was fae blood in her after all.

It must have been a little after one in the morning when we finally finished, the mixture of sweat, dust and kitchen grease lingering on my skin. My tunic sleeves covered in soot; small tendrils of hair stuck to my nape. Master Dodd’s our ever-faithful coachman had left me, Dion and Ceilia to most of the work, claiming his old bones were not what they once were… in reality he was a lazy sod who decided to wander down to the local tavern on the dockside to drink himself stupid with the layabout footman. Marie had managed to find a laundress willing to do the work quickly (especially at the rate she was charging… there went more of my coin) and even came back with all the sheets, not a single pillowcase missing. It was Ceilia that impressed me the most, her talent for getting on with the work without complaint by far her biggest asset. As a reward for all our hard work I poured us all a dram of my father's best port, a few bottles still sitting in the cellar waiting to be uncorked.

Dion had luckily worked off his hangover, the thought of port not making him bolt for the privy every few minutes or so. Upon the clink of our glasses another chime echoed in the parlour, a house guest calling at this late hour was peculiar even by Doria’s standards. The four of us exchanged glances, not sure who should get the door. Typically, it would be the butler, but we didn’t have a butler… we had a Marie who was the closest thing to a butler. I turned to Marie, but she wasn’t moving an inch it would seem. Given the late hour and the strange circumstances however, I let her off. Dion was already on his feet by the second ringing of the door bell, sword in hand. I nodded to him as I left my ladies maids to enjoy their drink, they had earned it. Setting down my glass, we went to investigate.

‘Milady!’ Dion hissed as we approached the front door cautiously ‘let me’

‘I can hear you in there’ a voice behind the door chimes, though there is something in its tone that sets my heart racing. We pause reassessing the scenario. Dion shuffles himself in front of me, but I call out to the voice before considering whether to open the door or not.

‘Who calls at this hour?’ I tremble, willing my own voice to stay steady to no avail.

‘A royal messenger your ladyship’

‘The King sent you?’

‘Yes… and your presence is requested at the palace immediately’ the voice is impatient now, but there’s still a purr to his words, they slither their way into my blood ‘won’t you open the door for me dear Fairspen girl?’

‘Identify yourself creature!’ Dion finally musters the courage to speak, just as impatient to know who or rather what we were speaking with.

‘And how would I do that?’ He adds to our surprise ‘…master Greaves’

Taken aback by the use of his last name, Dion had nothing to say. I had only heard him use his last name when speaking to what little fae resided in Hallow but to hear it on an unfamiliar tongue felt strange. It was more common here in the capital to use a title or last name for a human as we could not be ensnared using these names. Others adopted fake names but our family names weren’t given, we were born to them and thus why they were safer to use. But say your given name without saying it backwards first… you were good as a fresh lamb to slaughter.

‘If you work for the court then prove it… by erm…’ think Aeryn! ‘…by… by answering my riddle!’ I say, goading him into taking the bait. Ask anyone alive and they’ll tell you that a faeries fondest game is that of a riddle. There is a long space of silence, as if the creature behind my front door was contemplating playing or not. If he was part of the royal household he would be able to answer my riddle with no consequence, if he wasn’t however… his tongue would be set aflame as punishment for lying. It was a cruel but effective little trick the first King of the fae had placed upon his subjects to make sure nobody entered the royal household without his permission. Handy for the humans affiliated with royal summons, otherwise we could be lured by any nasty beast claiming to work for the king.

‘No need milady’ Ceilia interrupts startling me and Dion enough to knock heads as we jumped in unison. Ouch… hardheaded was an understatement.

‘He works for the royal court’ she says producing a letter with the royal seal, the gold wax crest displaying a crown made of thorns circling a set of stags antlers. Sure enough it was the seal of the royal house, King Kairen Aconite, First born of King Harkyn and descendant of Aelfdane the Benevolent. High King of the Fae.

‘Clever little Elf’ the voice purred, intrigued.

‘Where did you get this?’ I whisper, though I’m pretty sure its all for nought.

‘Why my hand of course silly Fairspen child!’ the voice answers, enjoying our confusion way too much. His patronising use of ‘girl’ and ‘child’ was starting to grate on me now.

‘Oh shut it, give us a minute would you?!’ Dion barks back to the door and we turn back to Ceilia.

‘I apologise, it’s another of my gifts… I can snatch objects if I sense they’re of some value without actually having to do the deed… they sort of just land in my lap’ she laughs nervously.

Me and Dion stand dumbfounded, I’m not sure whether to be happy or not.

‘I’ve never taken from you milady’ she quickly adds as we stare at her in shock. I know she was only trying to help but it was unnerving she kept such a ‘talent’ to herself. Although I supposed I never asked…

‘Told you she was a thief…’ Marie sings from the parlour. Obviously enjoying the port we left with her… I roll my eyes and Ceilia is protesting her innocence. All these voices are buzzing in my ears, my sleep deprived eyes twitching in annoyance as conversations erupt around me. Exhausted and utterly drained from a long journey, deep cleaning my house and this new revelation from Ceilia, I gave in and pushed past Dion to open the door. Enough of this tomfoolery!

‘Speak’ I hiss opening the door to find a Bogan on my porch. Despite his ugly appearance he was indeed wearing the palace livery of a royal messenger. The moss green and gold trimmed coat doing nothing for his stature, it dwarfed him down to his knobbly knees. He stood at the same height as me but his proportions were off, his fingers were disproportionately long and gnarled in places that should not have been possible. Small curled horns poked out of his powdered white wig that didn’t quite cover the tufts of black fur at the back. Whilst I knew Bogans had a knack for violence, I also knew they would get the job done whatever task you asked of them. He smiled savagely up at me, yellow cats eyes glaring into my soul. He dropped low into a bow, his task almost complete.

‘As the letter states your ladyship’ he begins gleefully, taking in my dishevelled and clearly irritated demeanour ‘You are requested at the palace by King Kairen and his court of revels this very night’

I finally notice the carriage constructed of brambles behind him, pulled by two magnificent steeds. A rare breed of unicorn that only the King could have procured. They were as black as night, their manes of raven wing feathers, the black horns as sharp as steel. It was a sight to behold such creatures, to ride one would declare you legendary back in Hallow! Heck to see one would have turned you into a legend!

‘This very night?’

‘Aye Fairspen daughter’ he grins, motioning me to hurry up.

‘I can’t go like this… we weren’t expected till tomorrow nights ball… I am not ready’

‘Oh tonight is not a ball’ the Bogan explains ‘regardless you are expected milady Fairspen’

Shit.

‘Milady?’ Dion asks, finally sheathing his sword back into his scabbard ‘if it’s a royal command we must go right?’

‘I suppose’ I murmur, without time to think I hold out my arm to Dion to escort me to the carriage of brambles, careful of their sharp thorns.

‘Very well Bogan’ I relent, my orders to Marie and Ceilia to lock the door behind us.

‘Let us go meet our almighty King’