First Wing

Chapter Two

As soon as she stepped into her room, the young girl immediately vaulted onto her bed in a most un-ladylike way.

"Oh, Melinda, I'm sweating like a hog! I can't believe how warm this pile of stones can get some days. I simply can't believe it. Oh, could you please fix me up some thinner gowns, Melinda darling?" the poor, overheated lady pleaded while fanning herself fruitlessly with her hand.

"Of course," said a small, plainly dressed maid. She was at least twice as old as the duke's daughter, and likely even more. She wore her hair in a sensible gray bun, and her face was devoid of cosmetics, but not of wrinkles. However, her eyes still sparkled with the spirit of youth, and she was like a mother to Sylvia.

The maid turned to a dresser beside Sylvia, and carefully arranged a crystal vase with a single, elegant red rose.

"Oh! Was that for me?" Sylvia asked, slowly straightening. Melinda nodded absently, and a slight blush colored Sylvia's perfect features. "From a-a suitor?"

Melinda's eyes lit up with recognition, and she laughed quietly. "No, silly child. I believe your father is right some days about you reading too many fairy tales. You've became quite the romantic, and I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed someday."

"Well, if its not from some suitor, where did it come from?" Sylvia inquired. So far as she knew, there were no roses in any of the common courtyards, and her father rarely had decoration brought in. Especially in the form of flowers. According to him, well brought up young ladies were supposed to be sensible and clean. And smelly, pollen-producing flowers had no part in that image.

"One of the maids heard me complaining about the sparseness of decoration in this castle, and she told me she had just the thing. She gave me this just this morning." Melinda wiped her hands on her apron and tucked a flyaway hair back into her bun.

"A maid? Giving me a rose for my room? How curious," Sylvia remarked, still perched on the edge of her bed and fanning wildly. "Who was it?"

Melinda sighed softly. "It hardly matters. It's just a rose, your lady. But if you must know, it was Everly. You probably don't see her much, anyways."

Everly? Sylvia thought back to the few times she had been introduced to the various servants around the castle. Everly, Everly, Everly... "Oh! Does she have black hair? And purple eyes, right? She the one who cleans most of the windows because the others are too afraid to go up, am I right? And she mostly works in the gardens, too." The gardens! Now that's a place to cool down, if any.

"Yes, that's Everly. Last I saw she was out watering. She's most efficient, that girl. She'll likely be heading off back home before the evening meal at the rate she moves about, she will."

"Hmm-hmm," Sylvia thought, not really paying attention. Her mind was whirring. First, a change into some cooler clothes. After all, that was the whole purpose of returning to her room, not to mention to escape from the protracted history lessons in the higher floors of the castle. She had felt close to simply dropping off dead, but of course if she did that in the middle of an important discussion over which country surrendered first in the First War, well, her father would march in and steam her some more. And then he would insist on a lengthy lecture, at which point he wouldn't realize she wasn't breathing until he had sufficiently cooled down. Which, it seemed, wasn't going to happen for another four or so months until winter.

"Melinda, could you get me that gown I was asking for? I'd like to visit the gardens."

Melinda raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Whatever for?" she asked innocently.

"I'd like to thank the maid for the rose. After all, its not everyday you get such precious gifts." Actually, for Sylvia, it really was everyday. The gowns, the fancy food, the servants that waited on her: they were all signs of her posh life. Sylvia was well aware of it, but she wasn't one to waste it. And anyways, if she refused the help and privileges her title demanded, she wouldn't seem selfless, just ungrateful and pretentious. Most royalty got that a lot, whisperings from the servants, calling them pompous, haughty, snooty and far worse. Sylvia was a big believer in "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." So if life gave her something far better than lemons, who was she to waste it?

Melinda smiled kindly. "Of course. Just thanking the maid. In the nice cool gardens." The comment was without sarcasm, but the understanding was obvious in the way her eyes twinkled.

Sylvia smiled gratefully at the old maid. She understood perfectly sometimes. "Now, about that gown?"

"Ah, yes," the distracted old lady said. "Here you are." She pulled out a thin, short-sleeved dress, with very few layers of skirts.

Sylvia smiled, and a minute later she was admiring herself in the mirror. "Thank-you, Melinda. I don't know what ever I'd do without you."

"I'm sure you'd do exactly what you wanted, as always."

"Likely so," Sylvia said. "Now, to get out of this heat."

Sylvia scooped up a fan from a distant dresser, cooling herself much more efficiently. On her way out, she paused by the old maid standing patiently by the door. "Oh, Melinda, I truly am grateful for you," she said, and gave her a quick hug. "I will be back by the evening meal."

"Be sure that you are, young lady."

And with that, Sylvia left Melinda on her own, hopefully headed to cooler climates.