Silly Fancies
27th of Ash, Year 118 of the Age of Steel
27th of Ash, Year 118 of the Age of Steel
The maddening music started again and Astræa forced her body to move. The Val’Aværyan had specifically requested for her dance lesson to be done in her private quarters. So there they were standing in the middle of the sitting with most of the furniture pushed to the walls. Claudia was counting in the background, but the young woman could barely hear the instructor over the music. One, she held out her arms in front of her. Two, she extended her leg and took a light step. Three, she twirled on the tip of her toes.
Pain shot up from her right calf, making her whole body tense. The awkward shift in weight made her tip over and she yelped as she fell onto her backside. Now, the impact made both of her legs start to throb. The starborn had to grit her teeth to stop herself from crying out in pain. Astræa thought she would have been fine when she saw that the bleeding had stopped this morning. Obviously, she was wrong.
The Re’hyaen woman’s eyes widened at the starborn girl who was now sitting on the ground. “Are you alright, domina?” The instructor immediately surged over and started to reach for her legs but Astræa slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch me! I’m fine.”
Claudia forced a smile, even when the annoyance was bright in her eyes. To her, the girl had been distracted during their whole lesson and barely even listened to her instructions. She slowly stood up and bowed stiffly. “Alright, we’ll take a little break. Once you feel better then-”
“Just get the hell out!”
“As you wish, domina,” the dance instructor replied tersely, finding her way out quickly. As the door closed behind her, the young woman caught her teacher mumbling, “What a brat.”
Astræa had the strongest urge to reach for the crystal ornament placed on the table near her and throw it at the door for that comment, but she held herself back. A stunt like that would only get her more attention and would get all the servants to her room. That was the last thing she wanted.
Once she could hear the footsteps walking away, the girl slowly lifted her skirt. Astræa could only wince when she saw the state of her calves. The angry red welts stretching across her skin had only grown more prominent compared to last night. On the spots where her mother had hit her multiple times, the wooden switch had broken her skin. All the dancing seemed to have reopened those wounds.
If she was at home, the young woman would have asked one of the servants to get her some gauze and ointment - but not here. If Astræa asked for medicine in her father’s house, they would start asking her if she was hurt and then she would have to explain and she didn’t want that. The best she could do was probably just stop the lesson and let her legs be. Hopefully, Eudora wouldn’t get wind of it and decide to punish her further.
Using the nearest table as support, Astræa hoisted herself up with a hiss. For a moment she wondered if she should just lie down on the bed, but then she remembered something. The starborn pulled off her hair tie as she walked out onto the balcony, letting her pale hair fall to her waist. She had heard earlier that Vrædyn would be hosting some senators out there. Fortunately for her, her balcony gave her an unimpeded view of the rest of the estate. She placed her hands on the stone banister as she leaned out, trying to scan the scene below her.
It didn’t take long for her to catch sight of the cluster of people walking through the paths. They haven’t wandered far from the main building. They were certainly close enough for Astræa to pick out her brother in a split second and noticed that he was looking particularly dashing today in his golden finery. She couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but one day her heart just started racing whenever she looked at him. He was easily the most striking man she had ever seen. While everyone in the royal family was exquisite, the fact that her brother was a moonborn made him stand out even more. So, with nothing else better to do, the girl could not help herself watching him from afar.
At some point, Vrædyn must have felt the weight of her unwavering gaze because the prince suddenly looked up. Their eyes met and he gave her a gentle smile. Astræa felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as her heart jumped. Without even thinking, she ducked behind the balustrade to hide. Pain flared on her legs as her wounded skin strained against the abrupt movement. It took only a few seconds for her to realize how she made herself look even more ridiculous. Why on earth did she do that?
The girl wasn’t done chastising herself in her head when she suddenly heard a voice: “Your Resplendence, what are you doing sitting on the floor like that?”
Her eyes flew open and she was greeted by the sight of a familiar, wrinkled face. It was Biola, the old human servant who had worked in this house for as long as Astræa could remember. Her black hair was chopped precisely at shoulder length and despite her age, her bronze skin glowed under the sunlight. She had always been the nosy kind, the sort of woman who liked to take care of people when no one wanted her to. She was also the few people in this house who had paid close enough attention to discover the bruises the starborn usually hid.
“I was… I was-” Astræa looked around hurriedly. “I thought I dropped my hairpin.” She made a show of patting her head until her hand brushed against the ornament, a golden accessory molded into the shape of a moon and a star - a gift from Vrædyn for her last birthday. “Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.” She knew that it was unconvincing, so Astræa leaped to her feet and turned her back on the woman, refusing to meet the other woman’s eyes.
Once she spotted Vrædyn in the gardens again, he was already walking away and chuckling with his guests. She rarely had any chance to interact with him and the one time she did, she made a fool of herself. He must’ve thought her antics were comical and childish.
“You’re not doing yourself any good mooning at him like that all day, domina,” the old maid said as she walked up beside her, following the line of her gaze. “You’re not a child anymore.”
“I know that,” Astræa replied snappishly, feeling the embarrassment rising to her ears. She knew what she wanted was silly. She might be living in this lavish house, eating their food, but she was only a Val’Aværyan at the end of the day. Not yet a royal - and considering her father’s opinion of her, there was a chance she might never become one. “I just…” Just what? The young woman didn’t even know what she was hoping for.
Biola chuckled as she walked back into the room. She raised a hand to gesture at her. “Come here, girl. Let me treat your leg.”
The starborn girl straightened and blinked in surprise, reluctantly following her to the bedroom. “How did you-”
She scoffed as if she was offended that Astræa even tried to question her. “You’ve been sporting a limp since you stepped foot in this house and you kept wincing when you climbed the stairs earlier this morning.”
Astræa pressed her lips together begrudgingly but said nothing as she climbed onto the bed, letting herself fall onto her stomach so that Biola would have easy access to her wounds. She grabbed a pillow and placed it under her chin, hugging it with both arms.
“When are you finally going to tell your father about this?” It wasn’t the first time Biola asked. In fact, the old human had been asking the same thing for years. The bed shifted slightly as she sat down beside her and lifted the back of her skirt.
Astræa’s reply was always the same. She started shaking her head as she turned to look at the servant crouching down to dab the ointment. “Never, probably. I don’t think he’ll care.” A part of her was also scared to find out if her father was already aware of it and approved of her mother’s method.
Biola clicked her tongue in her disagreement. “Your brother, then. I don’t think he will be pleased to know his sister is being beaten in her own home.”
The girl shook her head again before hissing as she felt the cool salve on her skin. “He’s been busy. I barely even see him these days. He probably doesn’t have the time to deal with things like this.” Besides, what would happen if she did tell on her mother? Let’s say Vrædyn did care and wanted to do something about it. Her mother would probably be furious if she received any reprimand or punishment. That would just result in a harsher beating for her later. “I barely even feel it and in two days, once she decides I’ve learned my lesson, she’ll call in a healer to make sure it won’t scar.”
“You stubborn girl,” the older woman chided softly but said nothing else. They were both silent as Biola continued to treat her wounds. It was obvious that she always wanted Astræa to report her mother’s mistreatment, but even after years had passed she still kept the secret for her.
She must have drifted off to sleep at some point because the next thing she knew, Biola was almost finished wrapping her legs with the gauze. While Astræa was grateful, there was an uncomfortable feeling inside her chest. Shouldn’t her mother be the one who was taking of her so lovingly? How could someone with no blood relation with her care more about her wellbeing?
“Alright, you’re all set,” the servant finally announced, looking proud of her work. “Now, I always believe that the best medicine is something sweet. Do you want some coconut pancakes or baklava?”
Astræa grinned as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. “What about both?”
“As you command, domina.”
