Chapter 24
"The palace?" I asked, my fingers beginning to twist nervously inside my cloak. "But I was to take tea with Princess Yseldra after the burial."
"She shall return there as well. Only a few hours behind."
"Could we not wait for her? It is such a grievous time… I do not wish her to be alone..."
She smiled faintly. "You are a very gentle soul, Sister Naevia. Do you love Princess Yseldra?"
"Yes," I squeaked. I did not wish to wound Nerissea, for perhaps she, too, loved Princess Yseldra. They had known each other since childhood after all.
She turned her eyes back to the window. "Then you must dislike me."
I sat upright at once. "No, no, truly I do not. I harbor no ill feelings toward you, Nerissea. I promise it." And I speak the truth.
"I believe I now understand why your parents care for you so dearly."
My heart warmed at that. "Yes," I whispered, smiling to myself. "I was most blessed indeed to be born to such kind-hearted souls."
The carriage continued along the winding road. Silence lingered between us, yet it was not uncomfortable. Rather, Nerissea's quiet composure was soothing. The journey to the palace would span the better part of a day, yet it felt as though only a few hours had passed. I resolved timidly to speak with her more.
"May I ask your age, Nerissea?"
"I am twenty-one," she replied with a faint smile.
"The same as Her Highness," I remarked softly. "Ah… and have you a favorite place at the palace? A corner of comfort, perhaps?"
"I have not given it much thought."
"Oh, but surely there must be a spot you return to often?"
She turned the question back to me. "And you? Have you a favorite place within the temple?"
"Oh, that would be the nave. Most certainly. It is vast, hallowed, and graced with such stillness…" My voice faded. The memory of what Her Highness and I had done there stirred within me. That place, once sacred, now bore the weight of our sin. I looked down at my hands, trying to hide my blushing face.
Just then, the sound of hooves approached swiftly from behind. The carriage slowed.
"A letter for Nerissea, from Her Highness," a man called, breathless. I turned my gaze to the window and saw another royal soldier atop a horse. He handed a sealed envelope to one solider who rode beside our carriage, then turned and galloped away, his dark cloak trailing.
The guard dismounted and came to the door, opening it. He tore the seal, unfolded the letter, and leaned in with crisp authority.
"To Nerissea," he read aloud, "the Duchess shall be waiting for you at the Silverside Inn."
He tucked the letter into his cloak, closed the carriage door and returned to his mount.
The carriage resumed its motion.
I turned to Nerissea, puzzled. She wore that same faint smile upon her lips.
"Why did he not simply hand you the letter?" I asked quietly. "I have never seen a message read aloud in the presence of its intended recipient unless they were a child or had never been granted the privilege of literacy."
"I cannot read," she replied, as softly as before.
My eyes widened. "I beg your pardon? What do you mean?"
"I do not know how to read," she repeated, still calm.
"But… but you were raised alongside Her Highness. Surely you both received lessons together?"
"Personal slaves to members of the royal family are not permitted instruction in reading or writing."
I stared at her in disbelief. "That is a cruelty I cannot comprehend," I whispered.
"There is no need to pity me. But I thank you for your kind heart."
"I simply cannot accept it. Surely, everyone is deserving of that skill. The written word belongs to all."
"That has long been the law. Do not let it sadden you."
But I could not help it. My heart trembled with unease and indignation. As the sun climbed toward its zenith, I shifted from my place and seated myself beside her.
"I shall teach you," I whispered.
She smiled faintly again. "You will be punished if anyone finds out."
"Not if you do not tell."
"We had better not."
"We are most certainly doing this," I whispered with resolve, drawing the carriage blinds closed with a soft rustle.
I then shifted beside her until our shoulders met and took hold of her right slender pointer finger. Then I took her left hand and turned it, palm down. Slowly, I traced the letters upon the back of her hand with her own finger.
"Nerissea," I murmured. "This is how one spells Nerissea."
When I turned to look at her, my heart gave a sudden flutter.
Her striking teal eyes shimmered with unshed tears, gleaming like rare gemstones. Her lips were pressed together, trembling slightly. She said nothing, but I felt it.
Perhaps I was not the most learned creature, but I knew what I saw. That was not simply gratitude. It was the ache of long-held longing, the joy of something once thought unreachable now placed into her hands. She had dreamt of this. I was sure of it.
My own eyes began to blur, but I blinked them quickly away and held her hand more firmly.
"N-e-r-i-s-s-e-a," I whispered as I traced again. "N-e-r-i-s-s-e-a. N-e-r-i-s-s-e-a. Your name. Now, your turn."
She exhaled softly, then lifted her finger and wrote. "Nerissea," she whispered.
When she finished, she looked up at me and smiled.
But not as she had before. Not the small, faint smile. This smile was radiant. A full, heartfelt beam that revealed the perfect whiteness of her teeth and a light within her that I had not seen until now.
My heart fluttered at her joy, and, I admit, at her beauty.
"Your name is beautiful, Nerissea. But the way you say it… it is even more so."
"Thank you. My mother named me. She has passed now."
"I see. And your father?"
"I do not know." Her gaze flickered to me, and the joy in her smile faded into the same faint smile as before. A smile that, the more I beheld it, the more it resembled sorrow in disguise.
"My mother was a courtesan by necessity," she said.
I ought not to feel so curious, and yet I could not help it. "How did you come to bear the seal of servitude, if I may ask?"
"I was five when my mother passed. The brothel sold me to the slave market."
I lowered my eyes for a moment. "And then you were bought into the palace," I whispered, more to myself than to her.
"Would you like to learn how to spell my name?" The air between us had grown rather sorrowful, and I wished with all my heart to lighten it.
I leaned in a little nearer until our faces were but a breath apart. I took her finger and guided it once more. This time, she steadied her left hand by herself.
"N-a-e-v-i-a," I whispered slowly, tracing each letter with her finger upon her skin.
I was just about to begin again when she took over.
"Naevia," she murmured.
I turned to her, my eyes wide, a smile lighting my face. "Nerissea! Your memory is blessed beyond measure!"
"A tab," she replied with a soft little laugh.
We continued, spelling word after word. We began with the simplest ones. I blushed more times than I could count, for I quickly realized I made a rather dreadful tutor. My explanations were often poor things, half-formed, and she would puzzle them out, and then ask if what she had concluded was in fact what I meant. And every time, it was. I was not teaching her. I was merely… pointing.
As the sun began to set, casting long golden beams across the carriage interior, the wheels slowed. I hastily returned to my seat opposite her.
The door opened with a creak, and Nerissea motioned for me to step out first. My heart warmed at her gentle manner. She was so terribly sweet.
I stepped out into the cool evening air and lifted my eyes to the building before us. It was a rather large inn, four floors, its exterior clean but plainly built. It had the appearance of a place made to serve travelers. Carriages were lined along the drive. People were unpacking trunks, tending horses, and stepping briskly through the doorway.
"Sir Rhaevin shall escort you to your chamber. I shall see you in a few hours," Nerissea inclined her head.
"Nerissea…" I hesitated, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. "Might we share a room? I know no one here, and we are in such a desolate place…"
"Ohhh," came a rich sound. I turned toward it instinctively. A curvaceous woman approached us, her hips swaying. She wore a most elaborate hat, and her voice dripped with amusement. "And who is this darling little creature?" she purred, and I shivered under her gaze.
Sir Rhaevin stepped forward, placing himself between us. "This one is off limits," he said firmly. "Take the slave and go."
"Oh?" the woman cooed, unfazed. "But now I find myself wanting the nun as well."
My heart began to pound, confusion and unease blooming within me. What was happening? I looked to Nerissea, hoping for an answer, but she stood still, her gaze cast down, saying nothing.
"You shall have to discuss that with the princess," Sir Rhaevin replied coldly, unmoving.
The woman gave a low, cruel chuckle and turned to Nerissea. To my horror, she reached behind Nerissea and gave a vulgar squeeze.
"Very well," she said. "I shall have to make this one scream doubly loud to make up for the loss." The woman then whisked Nerissea inside.
I stood frozen.