Page 27 of Waking Roslyn

“Stop it!” I said. Wasn’t it bad enough that my aunt had died? Shouldn’t that be enough misery to make them happy? But no, today would be just like any other day. Neil had spilled jam on my dress the last time I’d been forced to be around them, and now Everett had ruined my hair. My maid had worked on it for ages this morning so I would look perfect. My eyes burned, both because of his hateful words and because of the pain in my scalp. I refused to cry though, glaring at him instead. Everett and Neil loved it when I cried. My parents kept assuring me that they’d get tired of teasing me eventually, but it had been years and nothing had changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Everett kicked at the dirt below his feet, sprinkling my dress with dust before running off to join Neil, who was waiting at the edge of the garden, a mean smirk on his face. I’d thought he would stay with his father, but I’d been wrong. They both sauntered away as though they owned the kingdom.

Even though Neil was nearly sixteen and should have grown out of his bullying, he was the worst. If he’d decided not to hate me, then Everett, who was fourteen, and Nina, who was twelve, would have followed suit, but every time Neil saw me, I felt like he hated me a little bit more. Mama used to tell me it was because I was a girl and higher ranking than them, but I knew it was because I was a gutterling, a halfbreed. Papa was a duke, born into nobility, but mama…mama came from the lower class, and the kingdom would never forgive her for marrying the highest-ranking noble in all of Saldine.

I was just grateful I hardly ever had to see Everett or Neil. It was only at these stuffy court funerals or celebrations. As the few highest-ranking families left after the fevers had swept through the realm, the king insisted on gathering together as the descendants of the old king so that we could show the strength and unity of the family and the kingdom. It was necessary. Mother used that word a lot when talking about court affairs. Necessary.

But today really was necessary. We had to be here to honor Aunt Selina, to mourn with Lisette and Uncle Richard. So instead of going and crying to my mother like I wanted to, I brushed off my skirt the best I could and walked over to one of the garden ponds, hoping I’d be able to see my reflection well enough to fix my hair. I could barely see my outline, but I did manage to get some pieces pushed back into place so they weren’t sticking out like crazy.

A bird landed at the edge of the pond and looked up at me. “How do I look?” I asked.

It tilted its head the other way.

“Presentable? Or are my eyes all puffy?”

It hopped a bit closer, paused, then took off.

“Very well. I suppose I’ll call it good enough.”

I took a breath, straightened my spine, and forced myself to look like the well-bred daughter of the Duke of Weltshire. They might call me a gutterling, but I wouldn’t act like one at my aunt’s funeral.

So I walked tall as I left the gardens and rejoined my parents on the open lawn where tables laden with food and drink were spread out. When I passed by His and Her Majesty, the king barely acknowledged me, but Queen Talia gave me a little wink, and their son, Prince Marcos, waved at me from behind his mother’s skirts.

I joined my parents where they were speaking to Everett’s parents, Lord and Lady Malladon. The Malladons ignored my arrival, just like they were ignoring my mother. It didn’t matter that my father and Lord Malladon were cousins and that they’d grown up together. The moment my father had married Mama, Malladon and his wife had decided they hated him.

Sometimes I despised my father’s world. If I could live my whole life in my gardens and orchards with just my mother and father, I would have been happy. Instead, the ranks of nobility continued to shrink, and our presence was more essential and yet more despised than ever before. So we showed up, and though my greatest wish was to disappear, I did my best to make polite conversation with the children who tormented me, and their parents who despised me.

8

John

She had said we were going to get to know one another. Or had she? That conversation kept looping through my mind, but I couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said. I tried to rid the notion from my head. Just because she’d seemed content to converse with me in the old wing didn’t mean that she was looking for some sort of special acquaintance or friendship.

I was flattered that she’d asked me to train her. That meant she had noticed me, or at least my skill. Or maybe it was just my size. That was the thing most people noticed first. Not that I minded. It had served me well. But that didn’t mean I needed to start getting ideas about me and the very fine lady who was Lord Rockwell’s houseguest.

Ludicrous. And I’d better remember that. But with my hands busy tending the estate grounds, my mind was free to wander, and it kept wandering back to her, about how I could teach her. Would she take to it easily? Would she hate it? What sort of proximity might this training require?

“Do you want to go a few rounds this afternoon?” Tyson asked as we were pulling our tools out of the shed.

“Can’t. I have something else I have to do.”

“What’s that?”

What indeed. I looked at him, then back at the tools I was gathering, wondering how much, if anything, I should tell him.

“Oh, now you have to tell me,” he declared with relish. “If it was something mundane, you wouldn’t hesitate in saying so. You’ve got a secret, mate, and it’s time for you to share.”

I shook my head, half annoyed, half amused. “Someone has asked me to teach them how to fight.”

“Someone? Someone besides those of us who already fight?”

I cut my eyes over to him. “Obviously.”

“From here, or from Sutton manor?”

“Here.”

“Who is it? One of the footmen?” His face scrunched up in thought before his brow rose and he crowed. “Oh ho ho. Or is it one of the maids?”