Chapter 4: Chapter 4

“Jen!” My voice echoed breathlessly down the hall as I watched her petite form bob further and further away from me. She half turned and watched me as I collapsed to the floor; the balls of my feet ached and throbbed in tandem, but were then overtaken by an almost soothing pain as the pressure was alleviated from them. I gasped and wheezed, my back to the wall just in front of a series of blue-tinted windows that bathed cool light over my crumpled form. She walked briskly toward me and stopped just within my frame of vision; against the light she was an ominous silhouetted form with hints of glowing radiance from her pale blonde hair. I looked up at her pleadingly, hoping for some hint of sympathy. My arms ached, my knees were covered in bruises, my fingers raw and sore; there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t screaming in pain and begging for a reprieve. 

“What is it that royalty does?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head downward as I took shallow breaths and tried to make the most of the short break I’d afforded myself.

“What do you mean?” I asked her apprehensively, unsure what she was hinting at. Did she know who I was?

“I know who you are,” She confirmed. “Sheena told me all when I agreed to take charge of your training. So then tell me, what ‘tis it that royalty does?”

“I…I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I don’t understand your meaning.”

“My meaning is that you sit in your mansions and you wear your fancy clothes, and you eat your fancy food, and you look down on folk like me. You act as though you’re better, as if you wouldn’t soil your hands by layin’ them on us. Then you won’t pay us a fair wage because y’say ‘Oh, tis a job anyone can do!’. But here you are, your royal highness, sure’s as the night guides by fen and fern, laid out like hogsmeat on a Beltane feast when you’re tasked with the simplest. You’ve but scrubbed a floor and cleaned the basins. What would you say to a servant in your employ if they should falter so?”

I didn’t want to answer that; I knew exactly what I would say to any servant that couldn’t perform the most basic of duties. 

“I…I would tell them to get back to work,” I relented, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment and resisting the urge to cry. It didn’t work; tears began to form at the corners of my eyes and I coughed to cover a sudden sob that overtook me. 

“Then to you,” she said. “I say tarry here a moment and collect yourself, but not too long, mind you.”

I looked up at her in surprise, my vision blurred and my lower jaw trembled. 

“Thank you,” I said at almost a whisper. 

“We are but human,” She told me. “Even one such as you. Just that you ‘ad to be knocked down a few dozen pegs to realize it.”

“You ought to have liked the stables better,” A new voice interjected; I looked up to see Elric standing to my right, red hair gleaming in the muted sunlight. “But then I suppose everyone has their calling.”

To be honest, my first instinct was to hate him, but he was making it harder and harder every time he spoke. 

“We make for the kitchens next,” Jen said, stealing a quick glance at me before looking back to Elric. “Sheena insists that she do the most of women’s work.”

“I would say that the kitchen is not women’s work,” Elric mused. Jen smiled.

“Not when you’re in it, I would say not,” She laughed.

“Be on with you then,” Elric grinned and left us in the corridor. 

“Up with you,” Jen gestured to me and I reluctantly rose from the floor, my body still aching and screaming at me for rest. “The soreness will go and you’ll be better for it.”

“I wish I could believe that,” I said softly, trying my best to hold back the tears that still wanted to erupt from my eyes. This pain was greater than anything I’d felt in my life, and I’d liked to think that I was experienced. Maybe I was wrong.

“Tell me,” She said to me as we walked. “What is it that you hoped to gain from this? Do you truly believe you’re a woman?”

“I think so,” I said, exhausted. I might have had a better statement to make had my body not been rebelling against me with every step we took. 

“Well I think you ought be sure ‘fore you put on a dress and start calling yourself Lyra!” She laughed. I blushed. “still, I think we ought to paint your face mayhap. The hair looks as well now.”

“Wouldn’t the paint just sweat off?” I recalled my sister, Robin complaining about that.

“Not if it’s done right and proper,” She said. “there’s a concoction that can seal it in.”

“I didn’t know that,” I admitted.

“I’d expect not,” She said. “But you are here to learn, aren’t you?’

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought-”

“You thought that women had it easy? You had it in your mind that women’s work was simple and soft? 

“I guess because you take to it so naturally,” I said. “You make it…look easy.”

“And now?”

“I’ve been wrong about much lately,” I found the admission hard, but she nodded in a sign of satisfaction. 

“We’ll make a woman of you yet,” She said as we turned a corner and descended a staircase. The layout of the royal palace confused me to no end. Axock’s palace was large, but it was one building and isolated from the rest of the grounds. The palace, here, at Klocby was not only massive, it was interconnected with all of the surrounding buildings behind the inner wall. You could reach any of the buildings by passing through a walkway on the second floor, but you could not do the same if you were on the third. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to it; as far as I knew there were four servant quarters, each one half the size of the palace proper and I’d only seen the women’s. There was so much happening here, which was more than evident as we passed servants and nobles alike in the hall, most of them affording me no more than a second glance. It took me some time to figure out why it was they didn’t recognize me. I was, after all, Micah Lavoric, heir to the throne of Axock, and surely any noble would be familiar with my face. It occurred to me that as we were working, Jen insisted that I keep my hair bound behind my head to keep it out of eyes, but when we walked the halls, she would reach behind and pluck out the tie. My hair, styled as it was, framed my face in such a way that I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror and Sophie had plucked away at my eyebrows to alter their shape completely. I felt like a different person when I beheld myself, and in a way it made me feel deeply satisfied though the want for more was still there. 

With every person we passed, my eyes scanned vigilantly for the girl who had handed me the note three days ago. The message still chilled me to the bone: ‘I know who you are’. Sheena had assured me that my identity would be kept secret, and of course, most people would not know a noble even if they laid eyes on them, especially if they were dressed as a commoner, so who was it that had discerned my identity? What could it mean for me? 

We turned a corner and stepped through a set of metal doors, immediately placing us inside the east kitchen. Inside there were ten girls standing at various workstations, chopping meat or vegetables; other girls worked at gas powered stoves, tending to meat or watching pots of boiling liquid. Conversation seemed quieted here, and if there were any to be heard, it was drowned out by the hiss of steam, the bubbling of pots, or the constant tap of a knife falling upon a cutting board. The second thing I noticed, apart from the noise, was the heat. The interior of the kitchen, even as large as it was, was sweltering. My brow began to sweat immediately, and I felt wetness forming below my armpits; it was difficult to breathe in here. 

“This way,” Jen instructed me. We crossed the slate floor and stopped at a copper wash basin half as deep as I was tall and split into three sections. The faucet was high and easily detachable - I’d seen these before. “You’ll want to mind the water, it gets hot.”

She showed me in an almost bored fashion how to use the spigot to wash the dishes which continually accumulated at the edge of the sink. Dinner service, she explained, was still several hours off, but the accumulation of dishes had been left from lunch as there had been no one to clean them. This, of course, left me stuck cleaning hundreds of porcelain plates, metal trays, cups, silver-plated dining utensils and various kitchen utensils that were passed to me. For some reason I found the work relaxing; one dish after another, hot water applied, moved to the clean pile on the other side of the basin. It was dull, it was repetitive, and for the first time I felt that my mind was allowed to breathe. I allowed my mind to wander over the events of the last four days. The very moment I had worked up the nerve to make the request of the Lady Jenwise, the terror I’d felt when placing the matter forth, and then the strange conflation of relief and trepidation as she had agreed to my request. So here I was, living as the girl I’d known myself to be for years, since the day I’d dared to run my hands across the fabric of Robin’s silk chemise and longed to wear it. So many years of observing myself in the mirror and feeling the horrific pain and disgust of a face that was not mine, staring back at me in silent mockery. My mind reflected on the day I had taken my balled fists to that mirror, shattering the glass and leaving my hands bloody from the knuckles to the palms. I’d hated myself so much, and in many ways I still did, but here under the care of Sheena and Jen, I felt a bit happier; could it be enough? 

My pondering was cut short by a commotion behind me, several of the girls shrieked, a few began to murmur.

“-it is in the paper then?” One of the girls shouted. “Are they finally going to tell us?”

“It matters little,” Jen said loudly over the noise of the kitchen. “What have politics to do with us? Leave it, I say.”

“Leave the fall of the Mockreet?” A girl laughed. “I know not of you, but I enjoy being able to wash the dishes without that…thing over there pretending to be a-”

“That is enough!” Jen suddenly shrieked. “If you say such a thing again I will speak to Sheena on your behalf!”

“‘Tis a silly thing to say,” Another girl pointed out. “So long as the….as long as she remains silent and tends to her tasks, who are we to raise a fuss?”

The arguing continued and I half-turned to see what the commotion was about; all I could see, however, was the group turning inward and arguing with one another. I heard curses uttered, a names being called, but most importantly, I noticed the food laying loose on the table behind me. My stomach growled as I regarded a pile of vegetables and while their backs were turned, I snatched a small red tomato and dropped it into my apron pocket. 

Eventually the noise died down and everyone returned to their stations, leaving me to wonder exactly what had happened with Hybra, once again, and of course receiving no suitable answers. I wanted to ask, but the sound of my own voice was beginning to disgust me and I doubted any of them wanted to hear from me anyway. Eventually, I found myself walking with Jen again, back toward our own dining hall.

“Who cleans up after dinner service?” I asked her. She looked at me, puzzled.

“The night crew, of course,” She said. 

The night crew. Of course; there were four servant’s quarters, but did that mean two of them were dedicated to night workers? I had never thought about it, back in Axock; I’d somehow always believed there was only one group of servants and that they’d worked all day and night. It suddenly occurred to me how stupid that thought was. 

We crossed another steel-glass bridge at a brisk pace, this one overlooking the southern-most section of the palace grounds. Beyond the glass I could see the jutting towers of Klocby palace with its slate roof and cathedral style architecture. As we passed the bridge, we emerged into an octagonal space that split off into seven different directions; Jen chose the third passage, but immediately stopped as High Lady Jenwise emerged from straight ahead. 

“Over here,” Jen hissed, snatching my arm and drawing me beside her. She indicated that I should place my hands behind my back. We stood side by side as the High Lady passed through the space with two male guards, each wearing a crisp blue, high collared uniform, and a rifle slung over their left shoulder. 

“Good morrow, High Lady,” Jen said smoothly as the High Lady passed. She stopped and turned to us, giving me no more than a cursory glance, but moving toward Jen. 

“Jenise,” She acknowledge. “All goes well, I presume?” 

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen said. “Are you well?”

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“Indeed I am, I must be off though, business to attend to.”

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen took the edges of her skirt and dipped her knees slightly in a move that I’d seen many servant girls perform but I still had no idea what it was supposed to signify. 

“Has my father sent word, High Lady?” I asked suddenly. She paused and then looked at me with annoyance; I saw the color drain from Jen’s face. 

“Teach your charge when to speak and when to remain silent,” The High Lady said curtly.

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen said hurriedly as the High Lady made her way to the adjacent corridor. 

“What was that about?” I asked Jen as soon as the octagon was empty. I’d expected an answer, but instead, Jen turned toward me, raised her hand, and landed an open palm slap across my face. I yelped and stumbled backward at the impact, falling to the floor and dropping to all fours as the taste of blood filled my mouth and my vision began to swim. 

“And to think I believed you were making progress,” She scoffed. I managed to turn myself over and drop to the floor, palms behind me to support my weight as I looked up at her through watery eyes. 

“All I did was speak to her!” I protested. “I don’t understand!”

“You have far to go,” She told me. “but worry not, you have two years left on your sentence. Walk behind me.”

That was right, I remembered as I climbed to my feet and followed her, this time keeping pace behind her instead of at her side. I was a mere three days into a two year sentence. I wondered if I could survive it. Physically intact, I surely would be, but what would my mind be? More importantly, who would I be?

We reached the dining hall, and as expected, it was filled with other servants, all chatting, laughing, and eating. The dinner service for us, as Jen had once explained, was more laid back than breakfast or lunch; on this we could take our time as there was no work to return to afterward. From here, I supposed, the night shift would take over. Still hungry, I looked over to our kitchen area where food was being dished out and dropped onto trays; it looked like potatoes and beefmeat. My stomach rumbled. 

“Lyra,” Kayla’s voice interrupted my fantasizing. She had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but she did tend to do that. “Sheena would speak to you.”

“Thank the goddess,” Jen muttered and wandered away from me. 

“Come,” Kayla gestured out through the double doors and toward the hallway where we took several turns and ascended a staircase until we stood in a darkened hallway with wood paneling, illuminated only by weak glow-globes set into translucent green shades. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as I grew more nervous with every passing moment. 

“Be silent,” Kayla instructed me. Eventually we reached a door on the left hand side, leading to what appeared to be a bedroom chamber combined with an office. This was clearly on one of the outer walls of the building; a large casement window stood behind a smaller wooden desk, similar to the way in which the Lady Jenwise’s office had been established. Bookshelves lined the walls containing hefty leather-bound volumes, all accompanied by several large chairs and a coffee table. To the right could be seen a small cot that looked fairly uncomfortable to sleep on, but was covered in pillows nonetheless. 

I immediately recognized Sheena standing with her back to us, looking out the window over the courtyard. 

“Lyra,” She said, smiling briefly as she turned around. “How are you settling in?”

“It’s um…it’s okay,” I nodded, still feeling the sting of Jen’s palm against my cheek. 

“Good to hear,” She nodded. “Empty your pockets.”

“What?” I looked to her with confusion as she stared daggers at me. 

“Your apron pocket,” She said to me. “Empty it.”

Nervously, I reached my fingers toward the pocket and then, in my hand, I held the tiny tomato that I’d taken from the kitchen. My heart pounded; though I was entirely unsure of what was happening. Sheena looked to the tomato and then looked to me. I suddenly felt Kayla hovering behind me, causing my already mounting anxiety to shoot through the roof. 

“Tell me, Lyra,” She bit her lip and stepped forward, moving around the desk. “When you were a noble, back at your father’s palace in Axock, what might you have done should you catch a servant in the act of thievery?”

My eyes widened, my mouth dropped a little as my skin tensed. 

“You don’t want to answer that?” Kayla asked from behind me.

“Of course she doesn’t,” Sheena confirmed. “She’s partial to having both her hands.”

“Mind you don’t soil the rug,” Kayla said, moving closer to me. 

“Come here,” Sheena gestured toward the desk and for the first time I noticed the long, black object in her hand. I immediately recoiled, stepping backward, fully intending to run toward the door when Kayla roughly grabbed my shoulders and pushed me forward, toward the desk. 

“No!” I cried out, struggling against Kayla’s iron grip as she continued to push; her fingernails dug into my skin. “No no no, please! Sheena, please!”

I was sobbing now, crying, shrieking, even begging. Things that I would never have considered doing a few days ago. Begging was beneath me, crying was beneath me, but now, everything seemed to run together as I abandoned my dignity and cried for mercy.

“Please!” I begged. “I was hungry, I’m sorry!”

“How many servants were hungry when you ordered the same sentence?” She demanded loudly. “Oh, I’ve heard the stories. Your father is brutal, and you take right after him. Which hand did you use to steal? Answer!”

“I- I…” I tried to answer but I suddenly found myself unable to form words as Kayla forced my hands down onto the desk, holding my wrists in place firmly even as I struggled against her. She was strong; I was helpless. This was going to happen. 

“Very well,” She said quickly. “I will choose. You are right handed, no? Perhaps you don’t need your left.”

“No!” I wailed. “Sheena, no!”

“You will address me as First Girl,” She growled. “Today you will learn respect. You ought get used to it, after today, you believe you father will take you back? A cripple? This is where you are, this is where you will stay.”

She was right; my father would never welcome me home, not as a cripple. I squirmed hard against Kayla’s grip but it was no use; it felt as if my wrists were held to the table by a supernatural force and it was guiding me swiftly toward the impeding mutilation as my tears pooled on the surface of the desk. Then it happened; a white hot pain seared through my right hand as Sheena brought it down, putting the full force of her weight into the swing. I howled as pain exploded and became my reality, writhing and shaking, sobbing and screaming. Then, suddenly, the pain dulled; it still hurt, but it was merely a sharp throb. I cracked my eyes, just a bit, opening them wider as I saw that my hand was still attached. Sheena dropped the switch onto the desk. It hadn’t been a knife after all. What was happening?

Dead silence followed as Kayla continued to hold my wrists against the desk, using the weight of her body to keep me bent over. Only my sobs could be heard, echoing off of the wood paneling. Finally, Sheena spoke.

“There was a girl,” She said. “Her name was Plum, do you remember her?”

I shook my head, still too shocked to speak.

“You ought. She was hungry too. Your father had food withheld from her for three days. The reason? She forgot to curtsey. How fair do you think that is? She stole a piece of bread, a small piece from what I understand. Your father ordered you to decide upon the sentence. Can you remember what decision you made?”

She didn’t have to tell me. I remembered. She noted the recognition on my face and continued.

“Do you know what became of her? Of course you don’t, why would such matters bother you? A noble? She was cast out, bloody stump and all. She died, begging for bread in the streets. A fitting end, from your point of view.”

The full horror and shame was beginning to set in. My eyes burned and my body trembled. I had done that. Me. It was me. 

“When you came here, I told you that you needn’t be afraid.” She continued. “I told you that my protection extends to you. I meant what I said, Lyra, and I want you to understand that I am extending mercy where none is due. You committed atrocities in the Lavoric name, but I am giving you clemency because I know that you are not your father’s son. I have watched you, and I acknowledge that you can learn, that you can be different, and that you are young so there is time enough. Do you understand?”

“Yes First Girl,” I said, resigned to whatever fate she had in store for me. 

“From this day forth, to the end of your sentence, you will lean into the role that you have chosen for yourself. You will cleanse yourself of these ideas of nobility, you will forget your male identity. You will be Lyra, as you have so chosen. Am I understood?”

“Yes First Girl,” I winced as Kayla released my wrists, allowing me to drop to the floor with the two of them hovering over me. 

“Now come, sit with me,” Sheena ordered. 

I obediently climbed to my feet and followed her to a sofa, where she gestured for me to sit. As I took to the seat, she wrapped her arms around me and held my face to her chest. I broke out into continual sobs as she rubbed her hands across my back. 

“Calm now,” She said. “Tomorrow will be better.”

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