The Veiled One

Chapter Six: In which I reveal my inner literary genius

I don't wake the next morning until well into it. For a few blissful moments, I am able to remain ignorant of where I am and what has happened. But then reality drags me back and I open my eyes, taking in the splendor of the castle where I am now trapped. My nightshirt, woven from fine cloth, makes shame flood my cheeks. Endor hasn't worn nice clothes like these in years. He deserves a nightshirt, a real nightshirt, not just the shirt he's worn that day. He also deserves a bed of his own, with a down mattress like this instead of a straw pallet.

Everything about this marriage, this arrangement, feels wrong. My only salvation comes in the form of the practice room.

The glowing lanterns appear to be directing me in a different direction, however. I debate for a while whether or not to follow them, but eventually do so. The lanterns lead me up towards the dining room where I ate last night, but stop on the landing below it. There is a door illuminated in the blue-green light, and I push it open. Inside is a small, pleasant, breakfast room. The floor is a warm, rich wood that feels good under my bare feet, and the small round table looks like it could belong in one of the ancient stories.

And who should be sitting at the table? None other than my new wife. I take a seat across from her and watch as the table magically fills with all sorts of delicious breakfast foods, the kind of food one would expect for the first morning of a marriage.

I help myself to the plate of sticky buns sitting near me, then pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe in the middle of the table. The coffee is strong, dark, bitter, and richly-scented, the kind of coffee my parents used to drink. I pour in cream and sugar to make it more palatable, but otherwise say nothing.

"You could at least say good morning," the Veiled One says with the sort of arch tone I would assume would be accompanied by a raised brow or two. It's the kind of look I would give.

"Good morning," I remark dryly.

"That's better. Why are you still in your nightshirt? There are plenty of clothes in your wardrobe."

"Would you prefer me out of my clothes?" I ask slyly, raising my eyebrows. I reach down and grip the hem of my nightshirt, sliding it up.

"That's enough," the Bride snaps as the hem nears my abdomen. I lower it, but slowly.

"If you're not going to eat, I'm going to send the food away."

"Please don't do that," I reply.

"Very well. Now, eat. You have a big day today."

I do as she asks, but the food is ash in my mouth. What is Endor eating this morning? Stale bread? Leftover soup? Whatever he can scrape up from the village? Not for the first time, I start to doubt myself, my mission. What if I was wrong to come here? What if Endor was right, and I was being hotheaded, playing the hero when I had no right?

I push those uncomfortable thoughts away. I don't want to think about them with the Veiled One so close to me, not when she might be capable of reading my mind. Instead, after I force down an entire bun, I focus on something she said.

"A big day? What do you mean?"

"You left school at a young age, correct?"

I instantly go still. "How do you know about that?"

"The gods give me a report on every one of my spouses. I need to know who I'm going to be sharing my home with."

"The gods don't exist."

The Veiled One tips her head in a way I know includes the raised eyebrows and a wry grin. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes. They've done nothing for me despite all my years of prayer. If they were real, they would have saved my parents. And anyway, what does that have to do with me going to school?"