Book 1: Brutality

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13

"You raze the old to raise the new." - Justina Chen Headley

~Trigger Warning~

Valindra waves a long, gnarled hand. "Nothing to feel sorry for," she says. "I like it here, on my own." He gaze softens on Lindor. "Until my son, of course. Whose life you have saved."

Her glowing look makes me uncomfortable and I shrug awkwardly. I don't really know what I did.

"I do," she says, confidently and unexpectedly. "It must be a gift from the unicorn. She gave you the ability to heal by touching your hands."

And, of course, the moment she says so, it's obvious. I remember holding up my hands, the unicorn tapping her horn against them, the sense of power wreathing around my fingers and sinking into my bones.

I look down at my hands wonderingly. What a gift! Then I feel a tremor because faerie gifts are seldom free. What price would I have to pay for this?

Then I remember, I've already paid the price. I shove my hands between my knees, locking them out of sight.

"Remarkable," Valindra says. There's a flicker in her eyes and I can see she's burning to ask exactly what happened to make a unicorn owe me so much, but she suppresses the urge. "Do you have anywhere to stay, my dear?"

I shake my head and eye her sidelong, half wary and half hopeful.

"Well, then." She straightens and stands up stiffly, turning to face me. "I think Fate has brought us together for a reason, girl-who-was-brought-by-the-unicorn. You are welcome to stay with me as long as you like." She correctly interprets my wary silence. "I swear I will not try to enslave you. Though you do have to help out as you're not a High Court Lady out here. We both have to work."

I nod, this is more than reasonable. Though I have to ask, how did you know I am a High Court Lady?

"Your clothes and your manners." She shrugs. "Also, most mortals in Faerie belong to a Court, especially the High Court."

I nod. This is true because only aristocrats have the privilege of stealing humans away from Earth, whether to marry them or make them servants. Common faeries, like this hob, don't have that right. It's therefore, highly unusual to meet a mortal outside a Court and the largest concentration by far can be found at Elbauthin's High Court.

"Like I said, you can stay with me," Valindra says. "I promise I won't make you a slave but you will have to work. I don't have servants."

I know why she's hammering it home so hard; the idea of having to work would be utterly incomprehensible to most High Court gentry. The thought is amusing in a sour sort of way. A smile tugs at my lips and I nod.

She relaxes. "Good. In exchange, I'll give you a houseroom, share my supplies with you and give you what little protection I can. Is that bargain good enough for you?"

I nod. Standing up, I curtsy with one hand over my heart. It is sworn.

Clumsily, she curtsies in response and nearly falls. I stiffen a little but she's smiling as she stands back up, so I smile too. "Like I said," she says. "Lovely manners. What do I call you, dear, if we're going to be living together?"

I think for a moment. I could tell her my name - I doubt it would mean anything to her but if Myriil or...others are hunting me, I don't want to make it too easy for them.

And besides, I realise, I don't want my old name. I want a new name, a new life.

I think of the roses outside and I recall lessons given by Naela in the language of flowers. White roses symbolise silence and that certainly describes me.

Albia, I write at last. I think that will do, an elegant word for 'white' and utterly unlike my old name. A new name for new beginnings. A white rose, as silent as myself.

"Albia," Valindra says and so it is agreed.

Valindra checks on Lindor, who's still sleeping soundly, before pulling the covers on the bed. "You'll have to sleep with me," she says, almost to herself. "There's nowhere else."

I nod. Turning my back, I take off my ruined ballgown and most of my underclothes until I'm down to just my petticoat. The clothes, I shove onto a shelf - I really don't care if they're wrinkled. I also take off my jewels because by some miracle, I haven't lost a single one on my journey, not even the earrings.

It's strange to slide into bed next to a stranger. One more thing to get used to, I suppose. After the bare beds of my journey, though, the ferny mattress feels decadently comfortable.

Valindra has touched every lamp, making them die down, leaving only the fire. In the darkness, she sniffs. "First thing in the morning, Albia," she says, "you need a bath."

This makes me giggle, silently of course.

In the morning, I make breakfast, taking instruction from Valindra while she nurses Lindor. He suckles vigorously, with loud, wet noises and waves of his hands and feet. "He's never nursed so strongly before!" Valindra exclaims in pleasure. "And he slept through the night as well. Never has he done that before." She looks at me with even more approval. "I do believe you've saved my life as well as Lindor's, Albia. Even if you can't cook."

I shrug and give a grimacing smile as I stir the oats. I catch sight of myself in the mirror over the fireplace and blink in surprise. Valindra was right about me needing a wash because my face is smudged with dirt and my hair is matted with tangles. I touch it gingerly and sigh - I think most of it will have to go.

"First thing after breakfast, you take a wash," Valindra says, picking up on my silent observations. "I'll show you how to use the shower and we'll do something about your hair too."

I wonder what she means by 'shower' as we start to eat breakfast on the floor. I know human showers but I don't think that's what she means.

It turns out that Valindra collects rainwater in a vat, high in the Tree and has rigged a complex contraption that, with a tug of the rope, will bring a cascade down onto a wooden platform, with grooves that let the water sluice away onto the Tree's roots.

"There's a lake down in the valley and a river running into the lake," she says, "but, of course, it's not safe to bathe there. Here, hold Lindor while I get it set up."

I take Lindor while she busies herself with the machinery. I cuddle him close; he's a sweet little thing covered in light brown fuzz. He kicks and coos at me. I try to hum him a song but nothing happens. My vocal cords won't move.

And suddenly, without warning, I'm blinded by rage.

~Fun Fact~

It's been a month since I started writing this book.

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