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Lady Death's Diary: Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2021-02-01 18:55:14 +0000 UTCI found Lady Delphine in the gardens the next morning in accordance with her whispered invitation, though not before first unearthing every tidbit I could on the sorceress. Unfortunately, this amounted to a great deal of nothing.
Theo’s eyes had sparkled wickedly before he’d launched into a tall-tale about mages who bathed in the blood of girls recently turned fourteen. Father had harrumphed and warned me not to bring up “that woman” in Loren’s presence, causing me to conclude that the rumors about Lady Delphine and King Eldin’s relationship were true.
While I’d never paid much attention to the servants’ superstitions before, I now listened raptly. However, their testimonies, while less fantastical than that of my brother, ultimately proved too biased to be reliable. (“Why on Aelium has His Grace allowed that witch to stay here?” Cook had raged when I’d popped down to the kitchens for information and Theo’s promised chocolate cake.) Kothens harbored a bone-deep animosity towards magic, mostly due to the repercussions they had suffered in the aftermath of the Northern Uprising. Whose fault was it if not the mages’ that taxes had been so high these past three generations? If only the mages hadn’t revolted, prices would be more reasonable, jobs would pay more, and it might even rain more frequently in summer. Or so the logic went.
Never mind that my own great-grandfather had employed the now-disbanded Sorcerers Guild to fight in his rebellion. Or that the abolishment of a substantial sector of magic-related jobs had done more harm to Kothe’s economy than the Crown’s increased taxation. Or that rising naval tensions between Anterdon and Fengal made the Drimalan Sea too perilous for our merchant fleet to trade with continents outside of Aelium. Magic was an easier scapegoat than the convoluted relations between foreign nations and their subsequent impact on the cost of grain. Resenting nobility invited trouble—safer to blame a group that could no longer retaliate.
These were issues that I could address—could fix—once I ascended the throne. For now, my focus needed to remain on staying alive, not on abolishing a century’s worth of prejudice. I’d stayed up late last night writing down the transcripts of my first sixth deaths and adding the seventh. The squint-eyed guard with a pig-snout of a nose and heavy fists, I took vicious delight describing in particularly unflattering adjectives. The resultant journal wasn’t thick but it contained enough clues about my past lives to help me avoid repeating their ends. Theoretically.
If I did die, at least it wouldn’t be in the exact same way.
My sleep-deprived, dry eyes created a fuzzy halo around Lady Delphine’s silhouette, making her seem even more otherworldly as she plucked the petals off rosebushes and pocketed them within the folds of her robe. I cleared my throat to draw her attention.
She straightened and turned towards me. Her hands relaxed, and a fistful of petals fluttered to the ground.
I pointed at pink pile near her feet. “For a spell?”
She laughed, loud and hearty. Outside, away from the nobility’s censure and the servants’ suspicion, her smile no longer stopped at her eyes.
“Not at all,” she said. “Rose petals are lovely in a hot bath, and these were nearly ready to fall off.”
I would have to disabuse Theo of his fantasies involving mages and maiden’s blood later. Lady Delphine flicked off a petal stuck to her sleeve before motioning me closer.
I complied warily, keeping an arm’s length between us. The sorceress’ promise that she could help me “take control of my destiny” rang increasingly ominous to my fatigued mind. Our encounter yesterday had been unprecedented: I’d never indulged my desire to avoid Loren before, and thus never given Lady Delphine opportunity to approach me in any previous lives. Now, however, my planned future hinged upon her response to my request. I took a deep breath to brace myself for the conversation ahead, but she spoke before I could begin.
“You wish me to explain what I meant last evening. About your destiny.”
Her insight took me aback. Not that she had guessed the reason behind my curiosity (I was relatively sure that her cryptic demeanor was cultivated) but by the specificity of her statement. Had she used magic to read my mind? My suspicion must have registered on my face, because Lady Delphine laughed again.
“Logic, not sorcery, I assure you,” she said. “Why else would you come to the gardens this early despite your obvious exhaustion? Ask your question.”
Despite having practiced my proposition in front of my bedroom mirror, I felt tongue-tied under the weight of her full attention. I swallowed thickly. “You spoke of options. Of controlling my fate.”
She nodded but remained vexingly silent. Lady Delphine obviously wasn’t someone who could be finessed into accidental disclosure. Fine, then. I’d be blunt and observe her reaction. After all, I was only fourteen. She’d forgive some abruptness.
“Explain,” I ordered.
Rather than seem offended by my audacity at issuing the command, the sorceress smirked. Her voice lowered to a purr. “Manners, now, Lady Vitrula. You came seeking a favor, did you not?”
I met her penetrating green gaze despite an overwhelming compulsion to stare abashedly at my own feet. Vestiges of the old me, the first me. Current me refused to be intimidated by someone who gleaned malicious pleasure from speaking in riddles.
“I want to learn magic,” I said. “I want you to teach me.”
Lady Delphine clapped her hands and let out a small squeal of delight. The tension between us broke at her open giddiness.
“Oh, I knew you had potential!” she exclaimed. “You must have sensed it too. Like calls to like, as they say.”
I squinted, confused by her sudden switch in demeanor. “I am capable of learning then?”
“I said as much yesterday, didn’t I?” She spoke slowly, as if explaining rudimentary mathematics to a child. “Ethereal threads absolutely pourfrom you. With proper training, you could become quite powerful.”
My smile back was subdued. On the one hand, she’d agreed to my request. Learning magic would be an indispensable advantage in my quest to reach eighteen, especially if it turned out that I possessed an aptitude and Lady Delphine wasn’t simply sensing magical residue from whatever curse caused me to relive my years. But somewhere deep inside, in an ignored hollow of my heart where I shoved all my unlikely dreams, a small hope shriveled and died. Nothing about Lady Delphine’s reaction gave any indication that she knew about my condition. I squared my shoulders and firmly squelched the futile sorrow that arose over yet another dead end. The good news: Lady Delphine likely wasn’t in league my past and future murderer.
“You’ll agree to take me on as a pupil?” I confirmed.
If the rest of my timeline remained consistent, Loren would propose within the next two weeks, after which I would return with him to Bellcrest. Lady Delphine resided at the palace, so arranging lessons would be a simple matter of scheduling.
“But of course. I’ll see to it that His Majesty provides you an apprentice’s permit.” A crease formed between her auburn brows. “Provided Duke Rhys agrees.”
“Leave my father to me.” I brushed aside her concerns with a wave of my hand and more bravado than was warranted. “You’re certain that King Eldin won’t object? It could be controversial for you to tutor me in sorcery given . . .” I paused, reminding myself that my engagement to Loren had not yet been finalized, “. . . my close ties to the royal family.”
She comprehended my meaning. “His Majesty has long wished that the people of Verdan might become more receptive of magic, as they were before the Uprising.” She bit her lip as if conflicted, and refrained from saying more.
In my past lives, King Eldin and I had never discussed magic. Our conversations throughout the years had mostly consisted of him proposing hypothetical political conundrums for me to solve. He’d probably suspected that I would end up doing most of Verdan’s governing on behalf of his son.
Regardless of how Lady Delphine intended to convince the King, the first step in my newest survival scheme was complete. I’d learn magic, defend myself against assassins, treachery, and the ineptitude of my family, and live contentedly ever after as Queen of Verdan.
*****
“No.”
It was Father’s twelfth rejection in as many days. I’d reasoned, negotiated, and outright begged that he grant me permission to train under Lady Delphine. I’d promised to use my powers to advance his interests in Court, intimated that his refusal would make an enemy of the sorceress herself, and finally threatened to inform the local magistrate about a certain group of Fengali smugglers and their tariff-free brandy. I had followed him into the parlor as he retrieved one of said illegal bottles from his safe, my pestering having apparently driven him to drink.
“Do you know how long it took my grandfather to cleanse our family’s reputation after his father’s alliance with mages?” He spat the last word as if it were a curse. I refrained from pointing out that the Crown had likely taken more exception to his great-grandfather’s decision to lead an armed rebellion in the first place than his choice in magically gifted allies.
Both cajolery and blackmail had failed, but I had one last option. I took a deep breath, lifted my chin to a suitably haughty angle, and said in the most imperious tone I could muster, “If you don’t allow me to study under Lady Delphine, I’ll refuse to marry Prince Loren.”
Father paused in front of the parlor door he’d intended to exit. His eyes narrowed to silver slits.
“Go to your chambers,” he said, “and change into your new gown before His Highness arrives.”
“No.” Now it was my turn to refuse. “Either you agree to my apprenticeship, or I reject Prince Loren’s proposal this evening.”
It was a lie, of course. Every instinct I possessed screamed against the threat. I needed to marry Loren. My life depended upon it. Not just my own—to refuse the engagement was to guarantee Kothe’s next uprising. My father and great-grandfather had that much in common. How many people would die if he called my bluff? If he decided, again, that it was easier to declare civil war to gain power than to corral a wayward daughter?
No. Regardless of Father’s final verdict, I’d go through with the engagement. I only prayed that I was a practiced enough liar to convince him otherwise.
“I will disown you.” Rather than rant or yell, Father lowered his voice. I felt suddenly grateful for this autumn’s early cold snap, as my shawl concealed the hairs of dread that pricked my arms at his menacing whisper.
“You won’t.” Father had never ejected me from the house in any of my past lives, not even when he had believed me insane. Whether to avoid scandal or from his own warped sense of familial duty, the Duke of Kothe would not cut off his daughter. Abandon her to die, yes. Get her executed for treason, certainly. But he had never denied me my birthright.
“If you do disown me,” I added, “I will go live with Uncle Alistair.” I’d never met my uncle, who’d taken over my mother’s position as a diplomat in Anterdon after her death. He couldn’t be away from his work long enough to visit, but had offered both Theo and me a standing invitation to spend the summer with him. At very least, he might see me situated at a boarding school.
Father’s nostrils flared, and his thin upper lip twitched as if longing to contort into a lion’s snarl. But he was the Duke of Kothe. As such, he refrained from any and all unseemly displays of emotion, be it anger or affection.
“You would refuse Verdan’s throne and flee to a desert backwater?” he asked. “All because you wish to become a witch? I thought you beyond such childish fancies.”
“It’s not a fancy,” I snapped. “Nor childish. Need I remind you how Mother really died?”
He stiffened.
“As you pointed out, Anterdon is a desert. Yet you claimed that her carriage was forced off the road by a flood.”
The apple of his throat jerked upwards, but he still didn’t respond.
I barreled onwards, “That summer, Anterdon was in the middle of a seasons-long drought. I can show you our accounts—their merchants only stopped trading with us for fresh water two seasons after Mother’s death, when the drought ended. So please, Father, explain how her horses lost their footing in a rainstorm.”
He thumped down onto the nearby settee with an uncharacteristic lack of grace and wiped his hand across his face as if attempting to scrub it clean from emotion.
“How long have you known?”
“That politics are dangerous? Forever.” I sat down beside him, unsure how to respond to his vulnerability. How did one go about consoling a stone statue? My hand stretched towards his shoulder before retreating to my lap. “The truth of Mother’s death, I only realized after her funeral. I asked my governess to teach me everything about Anterdon, and the story you told Theo and me didn’t make sense.”
In reality, my own numerous assassinations had illuminated the circumstances behind my mother’s “accident.” Until my second death, I’d considered her passing to be a freak misfortune despite its illogical circumstance. Then I’d learned that the most malicious force in the world was not fate, but other people.
“Does your brother know?”
“I didn’t think it would help to tell him.”
When Father raised his face from his hands, his ducal mask had slid back into place. “You wish to learn magic in order to defend yourself.”
I nodded. That much, at least, was true.
“If I allow you to study under the Court Sorceress, you will comply with the betrothal?”
“I swear.”
“So be it.” He stood and glanced at the clock on the mantle. “His Highness will return shortly.” His silver gaze, as cold as the snow piling up against the window pane outside, scrutinized me from head to toe. My damask dress was cut with the empire waistline of last year’s fashion but otherwise showed little wear. “You’re presentable if not impressive. Wait here, and I’ll send in Prince Loren when he arrives.”
Father left, and Loren soon entered the parlor in his place. His color was high from having been outside. Most likely, he’d borrowed a horse from our stables and taken one last gallop as a free man before shackling his future to mine. A promise that I intended to make him keep this time. Perhaps Lady Delphine could teach me how to brew a love potion.
Then again, did I truly want Loren to love me? His constant presence was no longer something I craved—indeed, the very prospect of endless hours spent listening to him drone on about hunting gave me a migraine. Better to harden his heart against Letty, if magic could do such a thing. Most texts on sorcery had been banned from public ownership after the Uprising, so my knowledge was limited to accounts from history books and my own experience living under a curse.
Still, there was potential to somehow bewitching Loren. I filed the idea away to reexamine at a later time when my intended target wasn’t kneeling before me, snow from his tailcoats melting into a puddle on the silk carpet.
“Lady Vitrula,” said Loren, “over the course of these past two weeks, I have come to admire you immensely. Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”
We’d barely conversed for more than ten minutes during any of his daily visits, and I was seized by a reckless impulse to inquire exactly what it was about me that he admired so. My meek disposition? My elegant chin? My ability to balance six books upon my head whilst maintaining flawless posture? I suspected he would agree with whatever ridiculous virtue I put forth; such questions hadn’t been included in his script on how to propose. But this moment was too important to jeopardize. I smiled down at Loren serenely, the embodiment of the perfect lady.
“Nothing would please me more, Your Highness.”
Comments
Jo O'Connor
One of my worst nightmares 😅
Fish
honestly, tru, i too would be jaded if i had to go through puberty 7 times only to be back at age 14
