Chapter 49

 

This chapter has been copied from the original and may contain typos and grammatical errors.

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“How could you do it again!?” Seneca’s voice shot through the open window. Gloria could hear him even outside. She thought she would get some peace out here, but apparently she wasn’t far enough away from the house.

“I blocked you at the corner, you aren't supposed to be able to get me!” he continued to yell.

Meditating wasn't getting her anywhere. She couldn’t focus enough to feel anything with Seneca screeching like a banshee. She hadn’t been able to feel much of anything, but she thought for a moment two days ago that she had been able to feel a worm in the dirt for a second, but worms are so shifty to begin with that they weren’t easy to detect even before the equipment.

Standing up from her little stool, she brushed herself off and went to look at her little plants. They had only been here for four days, so her little plants weren’t more than little hopes. She took out her watering can and poured some water on them. “Grow, little buds, for the sun is shining. Bloom, little ones, for we wish to say hello.” she whispered softly over and over to herself. It was something that her mother had taught her as a small child, and later she would call her little bud once in a while. In that moment, Gloria missed her mom and hoped that she wasn’t worrying about her too much. Besides nearly dying, being beaten, and then nearly dying again, there was only so much grief a mother should have to know about, and Gloria hoped that she would never learn about any of it.

“Grow, little buds, for the sun is shining. Bloom, little ones, for we wish to say hello…” she mumbled.

Seneca slammed the door of the house as he left. He did this every time that Henry won a few matches of chess. “Perfect Henry…” he grumbled. He turned his attention to Gloria who was paying him no mind. He saw her lips moving and approached. “I hope you’re not enchanting the plants. How do they even grow on top of each other like that? Some sort of magic?” he jabbed.

“No, just water. When the plants on top don’t need the water I give them, the water falls to the next level. It uses less water this way.” Gloria answered plainly. Better to not make him suspicious or to provoke him, even if his presence wasn’t the most pleasant.

“And the words you were saying?” he asked. “You’re not poisoning them or- something, are you?” he asked.

“Why would I do that? I want to eat them too. I was simply encouraging them to grow. No magic included.” She said with a little smile.

He raised an eyebrow, and looked at the dirt that hadn’t sprouted much yet. “You’re wearing different clothes you didn’t have previously. Where did you get them?” he asked, skeptical.

“They were in storage. They were a bit big to start, but I altered them and made them fit.”

“That’s odd. I don’t recognise them. My mother wouldn’t be caught wearing them.” he said.

“Is your mother the only woman to have lived here in the past?” Gloria asked.

“She should be. Unless we had squatters.” he said.

“That’s probably the likely story. I must say though, I like having the range of motion again. And shorter skirts. Easier to do work.” She stretched.

Seneca’s nose turned a shade of red. “It’s rather indecent for a woman of your age to be wearing something like that. Only a child should be showing their legs at that length. I don’t see what’s wrong with wearing more appropriate clothing.” he said as he averted his eyes.

“Have you tried wearing stays, petticoats, boots, stockings, a chemise, a blouse, and an apron? It’s heavy, it’s hot, and I can’t touch the floor. Not good for gardening. Not the best for living, either, though the stays gave me wonderful back support.” she commented. “I’d like to see you try and wear a full outfit like that all day.”

“It’ll never, ever happen.” he emphasized. “I suppose that if a man can wear trousers, and there’s no one else around, then it doesn't matter much. It’s not like I didn’t pull you out of the river in your shift or anything. Gosh, that stuck to you like wet paper to flagstones.” he laughed, but Gloria also saw that he turned a deeper shade of red.

“If you would kindly try and forget that memory, that would be appreciated. Though I would like to once again thank you for saving my life twice. I would have been toast for sure if you hadn’t helped both times.”

“Despite my devilishly good looks, I’m no angel.” He wanted to say more, push her farther away and make her not like him. “I did it for purely selfish reasons.”

Gloria arched her eyebrow. “Oh? And what are those?”

He had to think quickly to cover his lie. “It’s not everyday I get to find the girl from my dreams jumping into a river. The figure of a woman jumping into a river in her night clothes made me quite… excited.” he let the last word roll out of his mouth to make her uncomfortable, but instead she stood her ground.

Her face hardened. “Well, that shouldn't be an issue now that you have another squeeze. I also know that you and Krista are quite, how to put it, entangled? How cramped was that carriage?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure at what point the conversation had become a fight, but she wasn’t going to lose to this freshly-not-a-virgin.

His face lost the color it had acquired. “That’s none of your business.” his mouth became a line. “But how did you know?”

“I- I woke up in the middle of the night, and I saw out the window. You two should be a bit more discrete, the carriage has wheels and springs. Quite a bit of bounce.” She tapped him on the shoulder as she walked past him. This island was big enough to practice her yoga somewhere else where she didn’t have to be in earshot of his whining and aggression.

The water here was cold and deep with a churning tide. It was no good for swimming, but Henry was able to catch some fish once in a while, which he cooked quite well. It was always a good dinner when there was fresh fish seasoned just right.

Gloria rolled out a towel to do her yoga on near the beach and as she got centered to start she heard footsteps coming nearer. She saw Henry coming with his fishing pole, and he seemed startled that she was there, as if he hadn’t been watching where he was going and only just noticed her.

She raised her eyebrow and he grimaced in embarrassment for a moment, then motioned that he would fish elsewhere. She rolled her eyes and went back to stretching her body. She hadn’t felt this free in a while, though the limit of her powers still felt odd. Could she do her stretches without her powers? She had never done them separately, but she didn’t see why her powers would affect her physical abilities.

She still felt like she was missing a part of herself. She used to use the exercises to channel her powers, but with them gone she felt like there was no use to do the exercise. She looked out at the water and wished to feel a sense of purpose. She knew that coming here was just a waiting game to keep her and Seneca safe, but did it have to feel so dull? Tomorrow she would search the storage again and see what she could find to entertain herself.

Evening rolled around and dinner was delicious. Henry had fried the fish to perfection and he had used some of the potatoes to make an appealing side. Gloria thought that she could hold onto Henry for her whole life if he cooked this good every night.

But then she thought of Blake. Her Blake. The Blake who was probably in prison somewhere and would be dead by the end of the month. And these people saw nothing wrong with that.

Seneca looked like his food had turned sour and he shoveled another mouthful of food in. Gloria finished up and stood to leave. It was late, and she was tired of a day of minimal activity. She would really need to find a way to spend her time more.

She walked up to her tiny room and got changed for bed, letting her hair down and getting into the cool cotton dress. She didn’t think it was originally meant for sleeping, but it was light and seemed a good mixture of the Islands and the Mainland; It was just scandalous enough to be from the islands, but decorated in a Mainland way.

She tried laying in bed, tried to stop thinking about Seneca and Blake and Henry. Why were there so many men? Where were all the women around here? Why did everyone want the ends to their own means and no one else's?

A book would be better company than her own thoughts. She set her feet on the cold floor and grabbed a lantern. There was a stack of books on the main floor that she could choose from, and she hoped that it wasn’t all political history.

The stairs creaked, but as the boys’ room was further away from them than hers, she hoped they wouldn’t be woken.

Though as she neared the bottom of the stairs, she found that she only needed to worry half the amount. Henry was sitting next to the fire with a book of his own, looking tired but content. He looked up at her, smiled a bit, then looked back at his book.

Gloria stood still for a moment, feeling like she was intruding. Gloria couldn’t really tell what book he was reading, the fire was casting light on the pages, not the cover. Was it a good one? What kind of books did he read?

She still wasn’t moving, and he looked up at her. “Did you need something?” he asked with a quiet, deep voice. It was tender, like the night four days ago when he told her to keep her head up. He had been kind to her, telling her that the whatever memories she had of her life on the Islands, they were real and her feelings then had been true, no matter the outcome. No matter the cost. A bittersweet assurement.

“I came down for a book. I can’t sleep.” she answered.

“There are a few good ones. I heard that you were reading like crazy when you were in… that room.” he called it. Because ‘cell’ had a connotation to it. Either he felt bad about her treatment, or he didn’t want her to associate him with it.

“Yeah, like one and a half each day. They were surprisingly good.” she smiled and approached him and the stack of books.

Seneca’s face came to her face and she realized she didn’t know what day in the lunar cycle they were in. It was cloudy on the Mainland more than it usually was on the Islands, making it hard to tell what she should expect.

“I- there’s something I want to talk to you about.” she addressed.

His eyes continued to scroll the page for a moment as he tilted his nose towards her. “Just a second…” he grabbed a scrap piece of paper and marked his page, then closed the book. “What’s on your mind?”

She sat down on the bench opposite him and exhaled. “I’m confused about Seneca. He doesn't make any sense. One conversation he can be repentant, emotional, sincere, and the next he acts like we’re enemies. He’ll be sensitive, then act like I’m a poisonous snake.”

Henry leaned back and looked at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. “Seneca is unique in every way. He’s the heir to the throne, and he knows it. He has always known it. Since he could understand speech, his mother would walk around with him on her hip and say ‘My son, you are going to be king.’ His mother pushed him on it constantly.

“He was trained in everything but allowed to do nothing. We dueled, but I couldn’t use a sharp sword lest he be maimed. He was included in all of the politics, but not allowed to make any decisions. When he stood up for your life earlier this week, that was a rare occurrence. And to have the queen listen is even more of a surprise. She doesn’t relent once she’s set her mind, and you’ve seen how brutal she can be.”

He took a breath, and Gloria jumped in. “But the sudden change in attitude? He can be so… sharp. Abrasive.”

Henry rubbed his face, trying to erase the tiredness that had settled there. Gloria heard his stubble brush against his hands. He thought for four heartbeats, then tried his best to explain: “I always thought he was a selfish boy- until he jumped into that river to save you. He despises witches; the Church teaches that powers are unnatural and we’ve all been raised to respect the Church, so it’s no wonder he feels that way. But he saved you. Interrupting a trial is punishable, royalty or not, so he risked quite a bit by aiding you.

“And he continued, too. He bought you clothes, a comfortable bed, and while I know the equipment is uncomfortable and is restricting you, if you didn’t have it, people would be more afraid of you than they already are and you would be dead for sure.”

“I’d like to see them try…” she muttered.

“But he can’t care about you, or anyone that’s outside the resistance. He’s been lectured several times that attachment is leverageable, and so he doesn’t make bonds. He’s been taught to value his own life more than anyone else’s because he is the only one who could be king, he is the only one who matters.”

“But Lady Krista, he’s obviously entangled there. She’s his fiance.” Gloria observed.

“Lady Krista is one of the resistance’s prime allies. She isn’t that attached to Seneca, nor he to her. The queen and Krista keep it that way. It’s one of the reasons she only comes once a year. They figure that the two of them should have a relationship, but not have the emotions that come with it. Not yet.”

Gloria remembered why she actually woke up that night, laying on Seneca’s bed. As restricted as her powers were, she could feel the emotions from Seneca, emotions she hadn’t felt in a while, not since she was spending the night with Blake. Waking to those feelings, those urges, it felt like she was possessed and her feelings weren’t her own. Either that, or she had to stop sleeping in another man’s bed…

“Seneca, he’s different around you. Besides the possibility of Lady Krista, I didn’t think he would ever show kindness to anyone. You don’t need powers to do miracles, you’re breaking his armor.”

What does it matter? Blake is dead anyway. The thought popped into her head. You’ll never see him again.

“What’re you reading?” Gloria asked, trying to not let herself drown in the thoughts.

“The Man Who Slays Monsters, a rather straightforward title.” he raised his book as if it were a glass of fine wine.

“Would, would you read to me?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not very good for before bed, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I want to get out of my head, and you have a nice voice.” she rested her head down on the bench.

“Very well.” he cracked open the book and the binding gave a satisfying crinkle that you get with old books with dry, well used spines.

A new chapter! This took longer to make myself write than I thought it would, but I think any progress is worth it. You may remember that back before Gloria came to the Mainland that I said I don’t like writing build up, and this is what I feel like this chunk of the story is. So I kinda have to wade through it. Gotta place the dominos before I can knock them all down.

As always, please comment if you feel the desire to, and stay healthy, happy, and inspired!

Bloopers!

I gave Gloria a cat, just because now that I'm in Brindleton Bay there are cats and dogs everywhere, and I figured a cat is less work than a dog. Hopefully. Her name is Taco, and she was adopted from one of the households that keeps spawning cats

Also, don't worry about shiny eyes anymore in the screenshots, some of them were taken before I figured out there was a way to update them and have them not be shiny. Oh, it feels so good to have my pretty eyes back again.