No matter how badly my heart aches at the thought, it’s something I can’t bring myself to even say out loud, let alone bring up to him when I see him. It’s bad enough that he’s seen my tears as often as he has already — I won’t beg him to love me — and the thought of being that vulnerable frightens me as much as my true identity. I cannot allow anyone to view me as a stray kitten in need of coddling, no matter how much I hope Marie is right about his feelings for me.
It also hasn’t escaped my notice that he still hasn’t paid me; the coins and credit I’ve used for my meals and new clothing have been from him, but nothing like the large sum that was promised. The more I sit and allow myself to sink into these thoughts, the more agitated I feel. The tapping of the servant at my door snaps me out of my spiral of emotions, and I rush to open the door for her to drop off the tea service as well as fruit and pastries.
“Excuse me,” I stop the girl before she can scoot back out of the room.
“Yes, Missus?” she asks, eyes downcast.
“Do you know of any lodging for rent? Long term?” I ask. As a local, she will surely have an idea of places to go, and I want to be out from under Marie’s scrutiny soon.
The girl blushes before asking, “Are you looking for lodging in exchange for…coin…? Or…?” She unobtrusively cuts her eyes to the pile of sheer dresses in the corner, and it dawns on me that the same servants deliver food and clean the rooms — between the sheer gowns on the floor and the state of disarray Lennox and I had left my room in, she must think I am looking for work in a brothel.
“You can look me in the eye, girl,” I say firmly. She jerks her head up quickly as her blush deepens.
“I meant no offense, Missus, I just…” She stutters and stands there opening and closing her mouth, unsure what to say next.
“I’m not looking for a brothel — I need a place to live if I am going to stay here.” I don’t wish to frighten her, but if I am to start over I don’t want rumors starting amongst the staff that I am looking for that kind of work again. “Do you know of any?”
“No, Missus…I can ask around though, if you please?”
“That’s all right, I will look for myself. Thank you.” I dismiss her with a wave of my hand.
Perhaps I haven’t fully snapped out of the spiral I was descending after all if I can be so easily riled over someone assuming I am…well, exactly what I am.
* * *
As before, the day passes quickly while I tour the town on my own. The brightly painted buildings boost my mood, as do the flowers climbing the sides of the verandahs, which scent the entire town with their perfume instead of the stench of night soil and unwashed bodies so common in Selennia now. A few signs written in the common tongue advertise rooms to rent and help wanted, beacons of hope for my independence once I make up my mind about what to do next.
While the island is a melting pot of cultures and languages, most of the people who permanently inhabit the island speak the common tongue, as well as a patois of the native language. The common tongue was a part of my studies at the temple, alongside the ancient language of the Goddess, and I’m thankful for the usefulness of those studies as I converse with most of the travelers and inhabitants with ease.
With no set plans for the day, I consider dropping by to chat with Siobhan without Lyra present to glean more about the woman. I pass by the coral building, but she stands at the counter with a customer, so I continue my walk toward the heart of town. The seamstress’ door is propped open, and I restrain myself outside the door to keep from checking on my items — bothering her won’t get the stitching done any quicker.
The sun begins to sink lower in the sky as I approach the boarding house again, and my pulse increases, sending a thrill through me. Tonight is the full moon. It’s almost time to wear my robe and see Lennox again, all in one night. My excitement nearly bubbles over when I enter the courtyard and quickly make my way up the stairs to my room.
The sight of several boxes laying on my bed surprises me when I enter my chamber. The packages are all the same style and shape, but one has two different notes attached under a bow — one sealed in dark green wax, and the other in royal purple.
Lennox and Marie. On one item?
I decide to open these notes and the accompanying box last, pulling one of the others close to unwrap. The sight of several of the items from the seamstress pulls a delighted laugh from my mouth, as I run my fingers over the light, pretty fabric. The second box holds the remainder of my order, and I beam with delight, laying the items out to admire.
The last box sits on the bed, staring at me with the two notes on top. I pause for a moment, chewing on my lip in hesitation, before finally reaching for the notes.
I open Marie’s first and find a generic invitation:
Your presence is requested at a Hallow’s Eve masquerade held at Madame Marie Benoit’s home. Formal attire and masks are required.
My head cocks to the side in consideration, but perhaps Marie will leave me in peace if I attend. I’ve missed celebrating Hallow’s Eve, so the prospect of a celebration overrides my hesitation at being around Marie again.
The second note beckons. I crack the emerald wax to find:
I made sure this came alongside the invite from Marie. Please allow me to escort you to her home tomorrow. I hope you find the enclosed ensemble acceptable, my fierce one. –B
Excitement sends a shiver down my spine at the mention of an ensemble, and I ungracefully tear into the third box on my bed. Inside is a gown made of midnight and moonbeams.
Black lace mixes with sheer panels of chiffon and solid fine silks in the darkest blue shot with black. If the sun was not shining through the shutters, I would have mistaken the deep navy for solid black. Silver threads course through the fabrics, outlining constellations and moon phases, not unlike the ones that line the edges of my priestess robe.
Laying on top of the dress is a black lace mask to cover my eyes, igniting the memory of the rites I shared with Lennox. The mask is identical to the one I wore that night, and to the one the figurehead of the Bartered Soul bears. The outfit is as fierce as it is beautiful – Lennox knows me well. My hands glide over the fabric of the gown once more, heart swelling at the gift, before I set to work preparing myself for the ceremony on the beach this evening.
Chapter 32