Into the Mountains of Mastria

Chapter 11

Cordelia

It feels like I have been left alone in the room for far too long. Varick went downstairs to the stables with Marigold to see our new horse. I don't understand what is wrong with the horse we have been riding, and judging by Varick's reaction, neither does he. Nevertheless, he agreed to pop down for a quick minute to see.

I have been sitting on the bed, still wrapped in sheets, slowly savoring one of the pastries that Marigold brought. I may not care for her, but I have to admit she has good taste. She brought a whole box of fresh fruit tarts in a few flavors and a bottle of sweet white wine to wash it down. Varick had set me up with a plate and glass before leaving. He was quite fussy about making sure I could stay cocooned in the bed while he was gone. Marigold had to practically drag him away from me.

The mix of sweet honey with cinnamon and cloves coats the apple filling making a delicious symphony of flavors. Each bite has been slow and deliberate in an effort to savor the experience, yet I still manage to finish before they come back. I sigh before taking the last swig of wine from my cup and setting the dishes on the floor by the bed.

I pull my legs to my chest, propping my chin on my knees with a huff. Just sitting here waiting is boring. I want Varick to come back, alone. There is a moment where I debate getting dressed, but maybe if I am still wrapped in the sheets Varick will want to repeat last night... assuming Marigold's attempt to shame him didn't work.

The door creaks open, filling me with excitement. Finally Varick is back! The smile fades from my face as soon as Marigold walks through the door. Only Marigold. She walks in with a bright and cheery smile, ignoring the daggers I am staring into her.

"Where is Varick?" I ask without even trying to hide my agitation. I don't want to be around this woman, I don't trust her.

"He will be up in a moment," she assures me, "He just needed to make some quick arrangements. I figured I would come up so you wouldn't have to be alone."

The way Marigold is talking to me so casually is frustrating. Does she really think we are just going to pretend like before didn't happen? She insulted me and Varick! Maybe she really is an ex-lover who is jealous. I don't respond other than continuing to scowl in her direction, which doesn't seem to bother her in the least.

"I figured I could show you the clothes I bought and help you get dressed if you need it. The local fashion here is a little different from what you wore in Vallistaril."

My body tenses the moment Marigold names my home country. The color drains from my face as beads of sweat begin to pour out. I don't remember telling her I'm from Vallistaril. I haven't told anyone since I was kidnapped. I thought I was being so careful, but I started to feel safe. Except that I mentioned Elin! That false sense of security tricked me into letting my guard down and speaking without thinking. Fear overtakes my ability to think past one word, escape.

As if sensing my internal breakdown, Marigold places a hand on my chest. Suddenly all the tension and anxiety evaporates from my body. I feel strange, but lighter. Like a big rock was crushing my chest, and it just disappeared.

"There we go," she coos softly, "But that spell is only temporary. I'm sorry I don't have a more permanent solution. Illness of the soul differs greatly from those that are physical."

My distaste for Marigold suddenly feels harsh. Not that I am willing to forgive her completely, those words earlier were hurtful and uncalled for. But I am willing to entertain the idea that they may have come from a place of genuine concern, or jealousy. I am not willing to rule out jealousy just yet.

"How do you know?" I ask. "About Vallistaril, I mean?" I know the answer, but I need confirmation that nothing else I said may have given it away.

"Elin," Marigold confirms, "She resided in Porthladd Harbor until a few months ago when she was called to one of the orphanages."