A light goes off in my head. Potentially, they could be even better than a maid.
“They will ensure that your fairness increases every day from now until your nuptials.”
Hopefully, my fertility, as well. I nod my head at the women, who do not so much as smile. They look at me with mistrusting eyes.
“As future consort to the Elf King, it will be your privilege to choose your dressmaker. They will be tasked with creating your dresses for as long as you live in the palace’s halls, and we have selected the finest gown makers, both within Shvathemar and beyond,” Thorne says.
Immediately, I try to feel out which one I might be able to endear myself to, but Thorne is already impatient.
“Enough of that,” he says to me. “Remember, these women are meant to serve you—the only person here on your side is me. Friends and traitors, my dear.”
My cheeks heat, partially from his plain, abrupt way of speaking in front of these women that I am trying to gauge, and partially out of shame.
I glare at him, but instead of falling for his harsh words, I first approach the ladies-in-waiting. I know from my reading that such women are meant to come from very important families in any court. It would be an honor to serve in such close proximity to the crown, as access to greatness or power can be just as beneficial as holding it.
They might be very well connected. They would have access to resources.
They watch me like statues with moving eyes, but I don’t let my smile fall. I am not a master of political games, but I consider myself someone who understands, more or less, the nature of beings.
“My name is Arlet,” I say, trying to keep my tone even. They all look at me with measured expressions, as if waiting for more. Is that proper? “Humans do not have established systems of surnames as your people do, but where I come from, I was considered a lady in the court,” I continue.
Still nothing.Hostia.
“I am a weaver by trade, but I have come to learn a great deal about history through my teaching position.” I pause. “Do…any of you have other positions? May I know your families perhaps?”
I remembered how intimidating the women from the Sisterhood had been when they first came to Enduvida. They introduced themselves with their first kill, but I knew that each of them had come from different places within the elven class system. I know that women aren’t treated very well here, as in many systems where the pride of a society is a man and his power.
The one in the middle speaks up first. She’s got the deepest skin tone of the three, though very light compared to the melanin found in human colonies. Long, light-brown locks spill from her scalp in silky waves. Small braids keep her hair out of her perfectly angled face, with high cheekbones, a curved button nose, and wide lips with a pointed cupid’s bow.
“My name is Merlina. I come from the Alnory family,” she says. There’s something in her voice, an obvious distaste, though whetherfor me or the situation, I am not sure. As a prospect for trust, she’s not my first choice. “I do not have a husband, but hope to marry well. With the help of the crown, of course.”
I give her a tight smile. So that’s what she was promised to be here. Is it the same for the others? I can use that in my favor.
“All the men in my family have achieved the highest status within the royal archer ranks. We have served the crown as the greatest tactical minds for over a millennium,” she continues, more obviously annoyed that I didn’t give a better reaction to her family name.
Damn, another mistake.
“That is impressive.” I nod, trying to appear more impressed. “It is an honor to meet you. You work with cosmetics?”
She looks down at the pots in her hands, still annoyed. “Yes. I am proficient.”
“What other talents do you have?” I press.
Thorne’s disapproving throat clearing in the background cuts her off, and the woman to the left of her speaks. She’s got blond hair and is much shorter than the other two.
“I am Eslina, from the Oakfeather family,” she says without elaborating.
The name is familiar, as are bits and pieces of her face. Glyni, one of the elves who served Mrath, the one who guided us around the Enclave as well as fought alongside my people in the conflict with the giants, had the last name of Oakfeather.
If I remember correctly, Glyni killed her father to be initiated into the Sisterhood. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but Thorne likely knows the same information as me. In fact, I can feel his eyes on my face even now as we speak.
She’s quiet. Guarded. I can’t tell if she would be the right choice either.
“It is good to meet you,” I say, and then turn to the final woman.
“I am Kiala,” she says. She also has light blond hair, but this time with brown eyes, not unlike my own. “I am of the Fereleaf line. I am accomplished in the usual tasks.”
Oh, she seems very nice by elven standards.