Chapter 42: Chapter 42

Indenuel picked up his wine glass and drained the rest of it. Tolomon gave him a concerned look, but he ignored him.

“It’ll be alright. In less than a year, you will find out why.” Ana smiled at him. “The first year is indeed the hardest, but you’ll be reunited soon.”

“You don’t think she’ll just continue to hide her secrets?” Indenuel asked, not looking at Ana.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. A mother’s love is complicated. I’m certain she has an interesting story to tell, though,” Ana said.

Indenuel smiled, again marveling at how she turned the conversation to make it easier to bear. “I certainly hope so.” Besides, there was little Lucia could do once he questioned her about Garen.

“So, Martin, how did you become a High Elder?” Indenuel asked before taking another bite of pasta.

“I took over after High Elder Leon,” Martin said.

“Oh. Right.” It was a strange moment to realize the stories he’d heard in his village were true, that Martin had probably met Leon, and that the stories he’d heard of history weren’t that long ago.

“Both Cristoval and Navir were keeping an eye on me, as I was moving ranks through the Priests. They figured I would replace Leon eventually, but they both thought they would pass on before that point. It is quite unfortunate what happened to Leon.”

“You specifically requested them to strip you of your royal titles in order to study to become a High Elder, did you not?” Adosina asked.

“I did, yes,” Martin said.

“Seems like quite the foolhardy decision to have those titles taken from you. It’s a good thing it was in the pursuit of something you love,” Adosina said.

Martin’s smile was tight. “I did not have them removed until I was certain it would work. It was a gamble, yes, but if I were to, say, have my titles stripped specifically to be in a lower class, that would really make me a fool.”

Indenuel glanced between Martin and Adosina, confused.

“Oh, come now, Father. The lower class can’t be that bad, can it Indenuel? Tolomon?” Adosina asked, ice in her tone as she stared Martin down.

Tolomon and Indenuel exchanged glances. Tolomon didn’t look like he was going to volunteer any information. Indenuel felt his heart sinking. Despite the luxury, despite the uncomfortableness, and despite feeling like a fish trying to learn how to walk, he didn’t want to go back to his lower class.

“Now, Ami, you must tell me your secret,” Ana said, turning to Sara. “Did you enhance any of these spices with your powers? They work so well together.”

“Yes, yes,” Sara said. “It has taken decades of study and practice. And my kitchen staff I would trust with my life.”

Tolomon whispered something to Rosa, and she tried hard not to laugh as she looked at him, whispering something back. Tolomon chuckled as he took another bite of pasta. Indenuel had no idea what to make of that. Clearly a joke shared between friends, right? Again, his eyes fell on Inessa before he forced himself to look away. With everyone treating him so nice and like an equal, it was sad to realize that the same courtesy was not given to her. All of them he considered some of the nicest, generous, and most welcoming people he had ever met, and they acted as though Inessa wasn’t there. He wanted to have her join the conversation, but it might be beyond Ana’s skill to quell the awkward feeling. Martin and his family found it easier to ignore her existence, and Inessa was obeying far too well, hardly making a sound.

Inessa wiped her mouth with a napkin before she stood and gave a curtsey. “May I be excused, Martin?”

He didn’t look at her. “Of course, Inessa.”

She nodded before giving a small curtsey in Indenuel’s direction. “It was an honor to share dinner with you, Warrior Indenuel.”

Indenuel’s hands got incredibly sweaty. He gave what he hoped was a small bow. “Yes, um, I did as well. An honor. With you. And the family. An honor. You.”

Tolomon was about to drink his wine when he pursed his lips together to hold back a laugh. It didn’t stop him from giving quite the grin. Indenuel purposefully did not look at Inessa as she made her way out of the dining hall, instead staring Tolomon down. His grin receded before he gave Indenuel a warning look. The look was obvious. Martin was right there. He tried to be subtle, but he’d been unable to stop staring at her throughout dinner. That couldn’t have passed Martin’s notice.

Indenuel’s heartbeat quickened as her quiet footfalls disappeared down the hall. He hoped Martin would assume it was social awkwardness, adjusting to his new role. Not… not that he harbored feelings for a sixty-two-year-old man’s concubine. A concubine who was his age.

The silence lasted for an eternity. No one, not even Ana, said a word. The only sound was the forks against the plates.

Tolomon set his drink back down. “This is an incredible meal, Sara.”

“Absolutely,” Indenuel said, jumping onto the topic like a rope to safety.

“A work of genius, I’d say,” Ana said.

Martin held up a glass of wine. “I cannot shower you with enough praise for this.”

Sara smiled. “I am so happy you all enjoyed it.”

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“I can feel myself gaining more weight with every bite I eat,” Indenuel said, doing everything in his power not to fall back on an old habit of shoveling the food in his mouth.

“How wonderful! I shall have the servants give you a second helping!” Sara said with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, that’s not what I intended, I just-” Indenuel was cut off as his mostly empty plate was replaced with another that had even more on it. He stopped talking and resigned himself to his fate as Tolomon gave it a test and a nod of approval. He picked up his fork again, smiling at Sara. “I thank you for your generosity.”

Sara simply beamed.

***

Once Inessa entered her room, she excused her servants. The three servants left with a small curtsey. The concubine dresses were easy to get out of, and she didn’t need any help. In the four and a half years she had been a High Elder’s concubine, she had never gotten used to servants. Maybe because when she was small, she was envious of the job of a servant girl in a huge house. It seemed glamourous and honorable, and something she could do, until her female body started growing. Then Jina had other ideas.

Inessa got into a simpler dress. There were certain rules of when she could wear the concubine dress. It was more ceremonial than anything. She used to love walking through town at night with her other concubine sisters, with no one realizing who they were as they shopped and ate. She missed the instant companionship that came with having other women placed in the same situation as her. Being with Martin, being the only concubine here, it was harder. There was no one to talk to, there wasn’t the nights of gossiping, venting, or comparing stories that only concubines could share. She was alone.

Inessa grabbed her basket and put her shoes in there before fastening her light cloak over herself and walking toward the window. She nimbly climbed down the tree before taking her shoes out of the basket and buckling them on. Once she was done, she put the hood up to cover her face. She didn’t want anyone to see her.

Not that they usually do, Inessa thought as she headed toward the gate.

Martin’s house was far more convenient than the other High Elders. His was only a few streets from the wall. Inessa kept her head down. It was Santollia City, so the weather was always comfortably warm in the evening time, but she did it more to cover her face. She didn’t want to be recognized and was also fully aware she had many striking features that would turn heads, and tonight she didn’t want to be remembered.

Once she reached the wall, she took off her shoes again before hiding them in a bush nearby. She sensed the guards, making their rounds and she waited until they were gone. She didn’t use her powers, as the guards would be alerted by it. Growing up she had learned how to sneak through a town without needing her tree talking gift. It was wiser to pretend she didn’t have a gift at all. The guards were far too focused on sensing someone using their gift that they would ignore the occasional rustle of a dress close by.

She tossed the basket over the wall. Her bare feet found the imperfections in the wall, and she started to climb. For a while, it was this skill that gave her family food some days. Now it was a different set of skills.

Inessa climbed down the other side and landed in the dirt. All things considered; she was quite lucky the High Elders let her go on walks through the city. Granted, they didn’t know it was outside the city, or else they would have ordered a guard to go with her, but she had been obedient in all her other duties that they didn’t suspect her in this one thing.

Inessa walked carefully toward a tree that had a bundle of sticks and leaves over it that masked well with the other foliage around the tree. It was away from the guards’ line of sight. She moved a few branches to see her small garden of poppies, dug deep enough in the ground for them to grow, but not poke out of the stick shelter. Having them so close to the tree helped them gain the nutrients they needed, as they were blocked from the sun most of the time. She touched the ground, enhancing her powers, urging the poppies to grow.

They will suspect soon, she felt the tree next to her little garden say. She had asked the tree to keep them growing, but that also meant she got the tree’s thoughts about the whole matter the entire time she was there.

It’s been years, Inessa allowed the tree to understand. I do my duty in everything else.

This man is the last, no?

Inessa closed her eyes, ignoring the tree as she worked on one particular poppy, filling it with enhanced power to do what she needed it to do. She filled it with the understanding of her body and how to blend in perfectly with the rest of her. It could not deviate at all, or else it would be found. Inessa’s powers of tree talking were not strong, except in this one thing she’d been taught since she was a child.

Inessa had practically lived in Jina’s brothel growing up. She learned to live a double life from a young age. She was the sweet, innocent girl who begged on the street because her mother, Jina, didn’t have any form of employment. The sweet girl who had no idea how anything in the world worked, especially in matters of a sexual nature because she was too innocent for such things. And then there was the girl who grew up in the secret brothel. The brothel stayed a secret because Jina obeyed the law of consent, only employing girls fourteen and older to work there. She would have been shut down by the church if anyone younger was brought in. But Inessa learned, listening to the stories passed around, exactly what it took to get pregnant. The kind of education she’d never receive at the pricy, high-society schools.

At age nine one of the women took Inessa under her wing to teach her the magical poppy root powder to keep herself from getting pregnant. Inessa was the only tree talker in her large family, and she wasn’t keen on making it any larger. It took a few years to master, but the woman was so proud of her. By that point, Jina refused to use Inessa in the brothel. She was proving to be a head turner, far more than her older sister, and Jina had other expectations. If Inessa was to be a concubine for a High Elder, she needed to remain pure. Jina didn’t know the other woman taught her about the poppy root, and it was better that way. Inessa never learned the woman’s name before she moved on to a different town, but it was her that gave her the tools to play this dangerous game with the High Elders for so long.

The riches they give? The status you enjoy? You will go home disgraced if you keep this pretense that you are barren.

I don’t care. Inessa wasn’t in the mood to get in a philosophical discussion of choices with a tree. She dug up five poppies, shredding them of their petals and placed the root on a rock, smashing it with another one. As she crushed it, she pushed more power into it, making sure it was potent enough to reject the sperm as the liquid was forced out of the way by her gift, leaving a fine powder.

The tree played memories back to her, memories she allowed the tree to have so they would understand. Memories of the cruelties of Jina.

You want to return to her?

Inessa moved on to another poppy. My mother wasn’t like that all the time.

They think you are barren.

Even the tree started to lecture her. She ignored it. If she didn’t need to return out here for a few more months, that would be ideal. Inessa crushed a few more poppy roots before placing her hand on the ground, willing the other poppies to keep growing as the petals absorbed back into the ground. She had to keep up the supply. Poppies were banned in the city for this very reason.

I am worried for you.

I’m not.

Inessa returned sticks and leaves to cover the poppies before she straightened, grabbed her basket, and turned back toward the city. She needed to go to the orchard to keep up her alibi.

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