lace veil back from her face and studies me. “Or do you like cleaning the craphouse?”
“I’m... Me?” Surely she is mistaken.
“Yes. Governesses are for babies. And I’m an adult. This is my seventeenth Hard Season. My father said I could choose one servant. And you come highly recommended.”
“Me?” I sputter. Who would recommend me? “But your governess. What will become of Kirba?”
“Look at me,” she instructs, ignoring my question. Kirba has seen more than thirty Hard Seasons and is one of the eldest on the island. Surely, though, Star will have compassion for the lady who raised her. Hearing the iciness in her voice, I’m not so sure. “My lady-in-waiting may look me in the eye, from time to time. And I need to see your eyes to know if I can trust you.”
I raise my eyes to her, slowly, and as I do, she blows a puff of air that makes the lace thing over her eyes billow out. I imagine even her breath is sweet. When she stands, I see that she is wearing a short, tight-fitting garment over her breasts, with a silky cape that descends over her hips. Open to view in a small window is the smooth white skin surrounding her perfectly round navel. Her navel! I’ve never seen another woman’s navel before, except for my own, and that only rarely, as doing so also affords me a look at my horrible, deep scars.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my eyes falling to the floor. I can’t do it. I’m afraid my looking would turn into gawking like mad.
She motions to a servant, who brings her a cloth napkin and retreats to the corner of the room. She dabs her mouth daintily, and all the while I can’t help thinking that her napkin, this piece of cloth she wipes her mouth with, is finer and more delicate than anything I’ve ever even touched. “You’re not the first person who has had trouble, but no mind. Your eyes... They are unusual. They do work, don’t they? Can you see quite well?”
I nod. “Well, they hurt some in the daylight,” I mumble.
“That is no mind.” She continues, “What I need is someone who can draw me my bath every day and dress me. Who can take care of my needs. Who can dine with me when I choose and carry on a conversation and be at least somewhat interesting. Obviously that rules out most of the people on this godforsaken island.” She laughs, a bitter but still delicate sound, and I feel her eyes running over me. “I’m still not convinced you are. Interesting, that is. But you’ll have to do.”
I swallow. I have no idea what I’d converse with her about. It’s doubtful she’d want me to go into detail about how to clean a craphouse.
“You’ll begin training right away. Of course, next season, your sixteenth Soft Season, you will be given Kirba’s position in the formation. Space twelve. I’ve not made much of a study of the formation, but it’s quite a valuable piece of real estate, or so I hear,” she says.
Space twelve! Space twelve! I’d always assumed that once I reached adulthood, I’d be cast into the outer ring of the formation. Space twelve is very nearly at the center. I am sure I am salivating. “But...what will become of Kirba?” I repeat, softer this time.
She laughs. “I am offering you the world, and you are inquiring about a scrap of seaweed?”
I swallow. “No, Your Majesty. I just—”
“Kirba is not your concern, but she will be placed in the formation according to her new duties, since you must know. Kirba has always been like a mother to me, and I will not neglect her.” She pauses. “One thing, though. Since you will not look me in the eye, I need to ask. Are you trustworthy?”
I open my mouth to answer in the affirmative, but she stops me. “What I mean is, you will be living in a new world now. In the castle. But of course you will travel out for various tasks, and of course for formation. You must never tell anyone outside what goes on within these walls, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say, breathless. That,
“I’m... Me?” Surely she is mistaken.
“Yes. Governesses are for babies. And I’m an adult. This is my seventeenth Hard Season. My father said I could choose one servant. And you come highly recommended.”
“Me?” I sputter. Who would recommend me? “But your governess. What will become of Kirba?”
“Look at me,” she instructs, ignoring my question. Kirba has seen more than thirty Hard Seasons and is one of the eldest on the island. Surely, though, Star will have compassion for the lady who raised her. Hearing the iciness in her voice, I’m not so sure. “My lady-in-waiting may look me in the eye, from time to time. And I need to see your eyes to know if I can trust you.”
I raise my eyes to her, slowly, and as I do, she blows a puff of air that makes the lace thing over her eyes billow out. I imagine even her breath is sweet. When she stands, I see that she is wearing a short, tight-fitting garment over her breasts, with a silky cape that descends over her hips. Open to view in a small window is the smooth white skin surrounding her perfectly round navel. Her navel! I’ve never seen another woman’s navel before, except for my own, and that only rarely, as doing so also affords me a look at my horrible, deep scars.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my eyes falling to the floor. I can’t do it. I’m afraid my looking would turn into gawking like mad.
She motions to a servant, who brings her a cloth napkin and retreats to the corner of the room. She dabs her mouth daintily, and all the while I can’t help thinking that her napkin, this piece of cloth she wipes her mouth with, is finer and more delicate than anything I’ve ever even touched. “You’re not the first person who has had trouble, but no mind. Your eyes... They are unusual. They do work, don’t they? Can you see quite well?”
I nod. “Well, they hurt some in the daylight,” I mumble.
“That is no mind.” She continues, “What I need is someone who can draw me my bath every day and dress me. Who can take care of my needs. Who can dine with me when I choose and carry on a conversation and be at least somewhat interesting. Obviously that rules out most of the people on this godforsaken island.” She laughs, a bitter but still delicate sound, and I feel her eyes running over me. “I’m still not convinced you are. Interesting, that is. But you’ll have to do.”
I swallow. I have no idea what I’d converse with her about. It’s doubtful she’d want me to go into detail about how to clean a craphouse.
“You’ll begin training right away. Of course, next season, your sixteenth Soft Season, you will be given Kirba’s position in the formation. Space twelve. I’ve not made much of a study of the formation, but it’s quite a valuable piece of real estate, or so I hear,” she says.
Space twelve! Space twelve! I’d always assumed that once I reached adulthood, I’d be cast into the outer ring of the formation. Space twelve is very nearly at the center. I am sure I am salivating. “But...what will become of Kirba?” I repeat, softer this time.
She laughs. “I am offering you the world, and you are inquiring about a scrap of seaweed?”
I swallow. “No, Your Majesty. I just—”
“Kirba is not your concern, but she will be placed in the formation according to her new duties, since you must know. Kirba has always been like a mother to me, and I will not neglect her.” She pauses. “One thing, though. Since you will not look me in the eye, I need to ask. Are you trustworthy?”
I open my mouth to answer in the affirmative, but she stops me. “What I mean is, you will be living in a new world now. In the castle. But of course you will travel out for various tasks, and of course for formation. You must never tell anyone outside what goes on within these walls, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say, breathless. That,
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