Chương 5: Chapter Four: Behind Closed Doors

Across the room, a whiny man complains to his wife.

"Why didn't she take to the salad?" Niathe snorted and stated the obvious to her hapless spouse, "What do you mean by why? For the same reason, no one else did." He cajoles her besotted with greens, pale hands hesitantly reaching out for hers.

"But I love salad." Her fingertips retract, and for a moment, the easy expression bordering on warm slips like a crown. Her pale brows relax, and in a millisecond, their fingers are joined once more.

"You are a deer among wolves, my dear." The insult tastes so sweet it's cloying in her melodic register. Her distant eyes betray her, ultimately, but for him. It's enough. Huffing playfully, Eligia retorts.

"I do not appreciate that comparison, Nia." Every word is indulgent, even though it's meant to be a reprimand. Warm like the kiss of summer rain against her cheeks as she decides whether it's real or not. Her mask doesn't slip as she chortles like a bashful lady would over her spouses attention and drags him over to the table in the meantime. Everyone is digging into the dishes still on the table. Different degrees of manners based on seniority and hereditary shame.

The youngest were particularly shameless and kept their parents in the corner of their vision as they grabbed food with their hands. Especially the stuff Miseria didn't touch. Surprise, surprise. The Duke palate leans towards a total herbivore. Unable to stand the heaty flavor of meat or anything blood-reminiscent. Avoiding anything too rich or spicy like a child who never outgrew his bad habits. Hadrian, Harleen, and I seemed to have similar tastes, though. I don't like most cooked meat.

However, I love bloody steaks and anything semi-raw. Mismatched eyes wandered over the full spread thoughtfully adding descriptions and heartfelt reviews. Pursing her lips, Miseria single-mindedly stared off into space and continued her culinary criticism. Salty stuff tastes great, too. Spice. Ah, spice is the salvation of the people. The only exceptions to that list were soup, fried stuff, and these yellow pastries I adored.

Dusted with salt, brown sugar, and decorated with small red fruits that reminded me of baby tomatoes. Powdery on the surface but juicy on the inside. Hadrian watched me eat and used a finger to poke at my bulging cheek with food. I slapped her hand away with my chubby one and munched on a pastry with the other. She scoffed and mocked me from her high horse.

"Voracious eater. She might eat you out of house and home, Nia." My tastefully dressed mother emphasized." Our house and home. This table is funded entirely using the communal kitchen's coffers." Hadrian groaned and gave me a look that said stop eating. I picked up some tofu from a nearby plate, waved it in her face, and threw it down the hatch. I even licked my fingers while maintaining eye contact with her to ensure the utmost degree of disrespect was given.

"…"

"Bahaha...!" One of the triplets cursed something ugly between giggles and started crying, laughing at her awestruck look. All of them did. This started a laughing fit among the other diners of the impromptu buffet. Even Erichean looked like he had just busted his stitches and wiped tears from his flushed cheeks. Harley hid her reaction by angling her face away, but her shaking shoulders showed how much she was enjoying the look on Hadrian's face.

The adults, for the most part, maintained a straight face, but I knew on the inside they were laughing too. I can be funny. I can also be grounded. Shortly after, I was promptly cleaned up and sent back to my room in punishment for taunting my elder. No more food for me. Hadrian gave me a victorious look, and I poked my tongue out at her. Let the rivalry begin.

"She's mean." My childish complaint spoken directly into Sarabse's ears made her shake her head and sigh wearily.

"She's your elder." That's not an answer. She patted my back and smothered a smile where I couldn't see, fighting for space on her serene face.

"That child of yours." Hadrian tsked to herself and gave her withdrawn friend a look. All of the joy and merriment of the afternoon sucked out by some vortex of her own design. Using my own rooms to glower and play statue within. Her narrowed eyes curved in bemusement. A beauty mark painted just below her eye shimmered with the change in lighting. Sunlight softened the fine features of her grace and added to the perpetual invisible wall between her and the rest of the world. Soft and hazy. Lonely and apart.

Dressed to the nines on a beautiful day, clear of any clouds and a spring breeze rolling towards us bringing tidings of the coming winter. Barely felt in the heart of the capital. Any woman with half her pedigree, borne status, immeasurable wealth, countless blessings, and beauty beyond compare would be reveling in it. Today of all days she would be blooming under the merciful sun and all of her rays. Praying fervently and devoutly donating to her patron to proclaim her wealth to all.

However what Niathe should do and what she eventually does are two separate matters. Constantly at war within her poor mind, the winner almost always being a calculated move. Risky but bigger stakes mean higher rewards. Hadrian tossed her hair back over the cliff of her chaise, spilled locks gathered in the hands of an attendant. Capturing them before they hit the floor. Brilliant gems gleamed from her glowing neck, and opulence happened to be a skill she'd honed to perfection. Spare no expense.

Money is just a tool, not a commodity. True wealth lies in what can't be bought. Values ingrained in her very being and bared to the world for all to see. A glass chamber for finery could not be clearer than her affection and dismay. Yet it could not be applied to everything, it seems. Not everything could be solved with a figure. A price for happiness, she mused.

"Beautiful weather." Niathe hummed noncommittally and continued staring out of the window.

"Does it not bore you?" Hearing no response did not bother her as she carried on.

"Staring out at the high walls of the grounds. I venture to guess the tower isn't even visible from this room. Are you longing for a ride? The stable is kept in excellent condition at your request. Just name your mare or colt." Stolen story; please report. Her dedicated tea maid offered a peeled grape to her to quench her thirst, and she opened her mouth automatically. Sweet and juicy. Lazily bringing a metal finger to her lips to wipe at the stream of juice.

"Enjoy a grape?" Not a second later a fine handkerchief was offered to the lady.

"No."

"Nia." Ruefully, she replied.

"Is there something you require?"

"She is as safe as she is astute. All of your trusted servants are by her side day and night. What worries you so?" It must be the cherub. Even I worry looking at how it grows and frolics. Bothersome children are always the most quiet when they're plotting. Quietly observing, learning, putting to use their talents in confounding their stewards. The chaos she'll cause within mere months of her birth will not be light. I can practically see it now. Thank goddess for my retainers. According to them loud is good.

"I am not worried." Her half hearted bid did nothing to convince even herself. Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "What are you then?"

"Resigned." Closing her eyes in a bid for patience with the morose woman, the redhead eventually lost her self imposed contest and abruptly sat up, causing her attendants to snap into place. Fretting like quails. Rubbing her shoulders, adjusting her jewelry, and placing shoes upon her feet.

"Leave us." All at once, they stepped out with no attempt at rebuttal. Gathering her dress, she sat a captivating sight, not a single bit of her proper from her head to her smallest toe.

"Come." She beckoned. Impatient and ever so patient all at once. Niathe pursed her lips and chose to remain ruminating before the balcony, gazing upon the sun as if it didn't burn her retinas. Complicated emotions danced like fire behind her strange, colored eyes. Decisive as she is, it was an uncommon sight to see her in a fugue over anything. Especially something she didn't disclose to her trusted associate. Dark shadows spread under her twin moons, and she sighed ruefully, finally sharing what was on her mind.

"He is growing suspicious." She whispered. Hadrian's hand stopped amid its path to grasp her goblet of chilled wine. Blood-red finger guards and equally red nails flinched.

"Of what?" Her golden eyes stained with flecks of crimson drifted to the open doorway, and as if a silent thunder had rolled through the room, it silently shut. Practically on its own, if not for the brief shadow appearing next to it.

"My affection. My loyalty. My..." She stopped herself and unclenched her gown. Even if I were to give my entire body to him.

"It's not that I do not try." It'll never be enough. Hadrian picked at the threads of the couch and bounced her leg to offset the sudden onset of stress.

"If it is too much, we can always accelerate your schedule. There is always some place that needs your attention. Traveling might help. The manor, the estate, the church." Why in heavens name? She chastised herself and reached for the wine. That's better.

"For how long?" The question stopped her mid sip.

"..."

"And her?" Referring to the only thing that could possibly tie her to the residence. The final play at sympathy that had nailed the coffin on her exploits. Traveling? You may not travel with a babe. Shopping? Bring the boutique to the manor, have them make a set for your progeny. Matters of the court? Nothing could make her voluntarily enter the castle as of now. Especially not now. So is this it? Biding my time, finding excuses to flee momentarily, riding back to him. At his beck and call. As one would.

Suffocating by a coiled embrace.

"Like you said." Niathe turned her gaze to the sky. The smallest of smiles fading away as she thought of that glutinous critter. That perplexing piece of meat that had descended from her stomach. Every time I look at her, it's like a bolt of lightning. Her lavender. Her mischief. Her brightness. So much personality bottled up in a small container, so soon. She hadn't expected her, at all. From conception to birth. Everything about her is… strange. Not all mine, but all the more so. So much more than…

She stopped the wicked game of comparison before it grew legs and stumbled out of her own reigns. It would be a lie to say she loved the thing. The distance is just right as it is. Fond but not to the point of losing her head over it. Time seemed to affect her more than anyone she'd seen. Already talking and spinning her own tales. Too fast. Her her own head spun at the slightest push but at least her thoughts were her own.

I thought I had more time before she grew her own wings, learned to articulate her needs and wants, such a greedy child I'd managed to produce. Always looking where others looked and positioning herself there waiting. Gazing upon others like she understood deep down what they meant. A guilty strange spirit. The matron's advice was all for naught. What talk of knowing upon setting eyes upon or loving beyond measure. Just a worm that grew eyes and mouth. I suppose it's good she grows fast. Less time playing catch up.

Dismissing the urchin from her mind, she pulled her lips back and revealed the kind of cruel smile he hated most. The one that meant she was about to bleed someone dry and leave them on the rack for the vultures to pick at. Just to disgust him. Distract him. Feed him something left out to rot and watch him swallow it. Hateful feelings spread from the recesses of her chest and hollowed it. Numbed it as she gave in to the wretchedness. So why do I feel like I'm stuck in a pit of honey?

Just drowning in something too splendid to the eye and too horrifying to be true. Perhaps that is what he's picking upon. It isn't my fault, I have no heart for him. So why must I pick up the pieces of his insecurities and mold them into a statue of his achievement? We agreed on mutual cooperation. You give, I give. Talk. Raise conditions. Not pillow talk and making nice with the noisy birds in his house. Ceding land, destroying imperial dignity, and above all. Lying to and then suspecting me?

A thief afraid of being stolen from. Ludicrous. The windowpanes reflected the rising sense of discomfort I felt watching the picturesque scene of a family at peace. Living in harmony, the way he wished for. Compliant yet greedy. Always pushing. Today it's imperial land. Tomorrow it's my own head.

"He must have too much time on his hands." Turning on her opaque heels, turning to her friend and pitched her latest haunt.

"Perhaps I need to create an opportunity for him to let out all of this excess energy, he's been spending on trivial matters." Silver sharpened in the stark contrast of light.

"... If it pleases you." Hadrian added after a moment's thought.

"As long as it's behind closed doors." That broke her. Niathe threw her head back and laughed something fierce. A beautiful day slid into something far darker, and people looked up at the charged sky with wonder at how easily it changed faces. Bells crashing upon the floor would have been a more pleasant sound, but it never reached far beyond. So what did it matter how hard she laughed? As long as it's behind closed doors. The nerve of him.

She struggled to breathe and held herself up with all the grace of someone pushed to the limit. Hadrian watched behind her goblet and downed more expensive regret south.

"So are we…?"

"Of course not. Give him the land." Niathe waved her hand dismissively, "Have our people retreat. He's going to be too busy to manage such an estate." Elsewhere later into the night.

"Quickly close the door." Harleen let down her matching hood and traipsed into my cozy room, fresh crackling of logs hoisted into the fireplace, hastily showing me what thirty percent of her winnings were later that night; sneaking into my room with help from Lillie, who lugged a large sack in her hands. What do we have here, Miseria mused. An upward quirk to her lips. Here comes Harley, here comes Harley traipsing down mansion lane!

Harleen shooed in the poor girl carrying her luggage, heaving and panting from the effort of running errands.

"Quick, before anyone sees!" Once she had been treated to refreshments and sufficiently praised for her efforts. She helped me count all of my share of the pot on the floor, treating it as a game as we listened to the metal clink. Lying on her side, surrounded by little towers I'd made that she attempted to knock down more than once. Forty-eight gold coins. Blowing ivory curls out of my face, I tossed one in the air and tried to catch it. The blasted thing fell on my nose and I blinked in shock.

A little mental calculation revealed the total pot she'd earned. Forty-eight is thirty percent of one hundred and sixty. Her winnings were far higher than anyone else's so that must be at least half of the profit? Three hundred gold on a bet. Is that much? Nevermind. Which means she tripled her profits if she only contributed fifty gold. How much is a gold coin to them anyway? Can I buy a book with it? I hope there's a library I can frequent. It's too boring to just stay in this room all day.

Maybe I should sneak out one of these days. Fool the guards, roll past the nanny, and bounce down the steps to freedom. The ground floor has to be more interesting than my floor. Miseria daydreamed head tilted towards the stars. A world beyond the doors and maybe the outside world… Cue the sigh of a spoiled princess. Counting my small fortune that I didn't truly understand the value of made the time go by easier.

In time my efforts to escape replaced the counting as the days grew longer with each passing until the seasons changed once more and everything rounded into a full circle. Winter. My seven months of life turned into a year in no time at all. (P. S. I did, by the way. Sneak out.) Sarabse's watery eyes filled with warmth as she stored Miseria's tiny drawings away for now. Ledgers, she had called them. Some kind of manifestation of her dreams to own a tiny shack and fill a bath with gold.

"How moneyminded." A small room next door to the bedroom emitting small snores gained another box of paper as she closed the door quietly behind her and acknowledged her patient guest. Comfortably napping in her cot, puckered mouth emitting the smallest of sounds as her cheeks puffed with air and deflated in time with her chest rising. A slender finger adorned with a rubied ring caressed the critter and looped a curl around the very same tan finger.