The family were busy entertaining guests which in turn distracted Bastien, focusing on charming them with his sickening facade. Siora could be summoned at a moment's notice, but it would take someone time to track her down. He wouldn’t though, then he’d have to explain to his father why the songstress was spouting a back eye.
The luxury of lowering her guard for a time had Siora settled, deciding to sit out on one of the rooftops of the estate to enjoy the fine day while tending her other wounds. A pot of ointment lay to one side, a few soiled rags piled next to clean ones while Siora spread a spatula across the wound along a lower leg. Another punishment for not being quick enough on her reflexes. Her other leg had favoured better, only gaining a smattering of bruising but the gash required attention.
Nearby was a secluded balcony, space for some pots of decorative plants and the chair Siora had used to reach her spot. Earlier that morning she’d managed to smuggle in a note, tucked away carefully into Leena’s apron, urging her to come find her if duties spared her. Their moments together were always like this. Stolen, quickly arranged when opportunity arose like this week's events.
When the door creaked open, Siora would let a moment pass before letting out a familiar tune their mother sang to them as children.
Leena sieved a thin layer of icing sugar over a layer of blackberries and bent down to observe her work critically, holding her breath. A lemon curd and blackberry tart was a plain thing to serve to guests perhaps – but it would be going to the table among half a dozen other delights. Straightening, she rubbed her back and begged her leave from Cook. The dear old man grumbled but let her go.
He knew what she was up to, after all. And Leena would risk significantly worse than Cook’s grumbling to see Siora.
Still a little grimy with oil and flour, she made her way to that certain balcony and lingered on the threshold, listening. Their mother’s song, so beautiful, was made ethereal by Siora’s great talent. It was too painful to hear. Leena scrambled onto the chair and made the climb up, breathing heavily by the time she could crawl across the tiles and sit beside Siora.
“Hey, you.” Leena generally tried to avoid asking about Frost – their time was too precious to spend discussing the terrible things that they couldn’t change. But she could hardly ignore the ugly wound or all the items spread out for treating it. She picked up the ointment and wafted the air toward her face, coughing at the acrid, herbaceous scent.
“Is this from our kitchens?” She set it back down, frowning at her sister for several heartbeats. Then Leena reached out to hug her shoulders.
“Are you okay– I suppose you must be if you got up here. What’s going on now? How can I help?”
Her head turned as the tiles shifted, creaking under the added weight as Leena joined her. Siora offered a small smile, relief washing over her seeing her younger sister still relatively unaccosted and looking well. Frost wouldn’t get a look in, not to their private, stolen moments. The man who robbed them of their freedom would not be the topic of their time together, despite the difficulty of him being present in nearly every aspect.
Hey, Si returned, the smile faltering some as ointment and wound met, stinging lightly. Yeah… I ran out, shoulders lifting with a sigh, Not gonna get you in troub-. She paused, chuckling a little as Leena pulled her in for a hug. It was sweet, and expected, she’d always been so willing to help and do anything to lift some of the burden Siora endured.
It had been an effort pulling herself onto the roof, but for a period the siblings could relax, nestled in the small nook overlooking everything. I’m fine, it’ll be healed in a few days, promise. Her voice reassuring, Siora leaned into her for a moment, I thought, given everyone's distracted with the guests we’d get the afternoon. He won’t call for me, not with my leg like this, it would embarrass his Lordship if I came hobbling through.
“A likely story.” Leena elbowed her sister gently in the ribs, squirming for a better look at Siora’s injury. Sure, it’d be scabbed over by then, but healed? Not unless that pot of ointment was magic. Maybe it was, at that. Still.
Stack injuries on top of each other, you risked greater damage. Would Frost give a shit – or spout some nonsense about how no, really it was damage that made you stronger?
“He’ll need me back to help with the washing up. That should give us a little while, at least.” A proper feast was a terribly long affair, even here in the middle of nowhere. Leena used to find it charming, these bizarre habits of the rich. Perhaps she’d even taken pride in it – just in contributing her skill to all that pageantry.
Then, they’d lost their parents and what little protection a pair of middle aged elven servants could give to their daughters.
Leena laid her chin on Siora’s shoulder, venting a massive sigh into her sister’s dark hair.
“Oh, tell me this isn’t it forever, Sisi. I could cook for any great Lord’s kitchen – or draw portraits of his bride and brats.” What use were these skills taught by Frost if they could not be used to escape him, in the end? Siora had more than paid for them.
“And you could sing again.” If only they could get away.
Hey, I’m the big sister, I should be the one saying that. Wincing with a grin Siora watched her sibling twist to get a better look. It’s not as bad as it looks, honestly. It was another war wound on an ever growing list she’d overcome, but yes, a few days wouldn’t have it healed completely.
Her face brightened hearing that they had far longer than anticipated. Dropping the pestle back into the jar, she’d shift the pot clear so the siblings could sit closer, letting her head fall gently onto Leena’s. That’s so much time. She’d sigh, eyes briefly falling closed to reopen again with a smile. Stay here a bit then somewhere else? Probably best to not stay put here the whole time.
Bastien wouldn’t be forever distracted, he’d check up on her eventually when there came a lull in the festivities, even if it was merely through a whisper from one of his cronies. Siora reached around her sister's shoulder, giving it a squeeze as she lamented their position. Nodding, the shine in her smile slightly faded, but held on to hope. There would come a day where they would leave, by what means and timing the young woman was uncertain, but she wouldn’t let her sibling be drawn into the bastard's games.
One day we will be far away from here. You’ll cook and paint, but for yourself. Maybe you’ll have your own stall or some noble will be your patron. Turning to her, Sisi’s smile began reaffirming, imagining the possibilities once out, free. I’ll sing and dance. Tour with some minstrels and make my name as a famous bard… without having to sell secrets or sneak around in the shadows. We’ll be normal again.
“Mmm. Sure, Sisi. But where do you want to go?” In her experience, the castle was only safe if she stayed where the other servants were within call. Frost’s mercenaries were as bad as their master for the most part. Leena thought he liked it that way, having people he could treat just like his hounds, snapping on their short leashes. Dangerous for everybody.
That kind of control couldn’t last forever, could it? But what did it matter if the sisters didn’t live to see it? There had to be a way to make someone important care. Lady Larissa, she knew, would never take a risk to help them. The true-born brother, perhaps … Siora wouldn’t be able to get close to him, with the way Bastien watched her.
Meaning Leena would have to try it if no better option presented itself. Rahse would want her to play the cards she’d been dealt, no matter his feelings. Or at least, he would say so if pressed.
She smiled at the picture Siora painted, a fantasy beyond her own imaginings. No masters at all, rather than simply better ones. Plenty of people lived that way – other elves, even – but she’d never met them, and it was hard to imagine what her life would look like.
“Is that what he’s ‘training’ you for now? Sneak around, ferret out secrets?” Leena wrinkled her nose, not necessarily surprised, but irritated. Elven servants were near-invisible as it was. Odds were Siora could be just as effective a spy if she lived exactly as Leena did and no one would need to hurt her besides.
“I guess he must mean to send you away, in the end.” The forced cheer that had been in her voice to this point faded entirely, and Leena wilted against her big sister’s side.
Everywhere. She’d tease, but quickly sobered to form a serious answer, mulling on the nobles activities and locations. They are eating, or at least entertaining inside before chowing down on their fancy steaks. The dirt ramparts shouldn’t have anyone more than a guard or two?
Bastien tread a fine line. Cruelty didn’t create a loyal following, it only poisoned others and if one of Frost's minions had the votes and means Siora would have hoped they’d have slit the shits throat long ago. Yet appearances had to be maintained and until the Lordship joined the Maker everyone was holding their breath for the axe to fall. Anxious fear fluttered through her at the grisly takeover that would no doubt happen. Bastien had little love for anyone but himself, his siblings were just legitimate pawns he could use to further themself and his aims.
No-one was safe. No-one, other than the Lordship, had the authority to challenge him.
Siora hesitated at first, but it did no good to keep Leena in the dark. Not just sneak. If I get caught he wants to be sure I don’t squeal either, but really I think he just enjoys it. Sick pig.
The weight of Leena against her caused her to sigh however, head tilting to lean atop the younger. Every city has something good and exciting as well as the awful about it the answer was easy, anywhere was better than here. But I want to be able to come ‘home’ to something somewhere. She’d shrug given their options weren't limited to the Free Marches. They would get away, but to avoid anyone overhearing too much and later whispering in the bastard's ear, she’d remained vague.
As long as you’re there and safe, that’s all that matters to me.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Leena squinted at the horizon, unable to see the earthen works from here. It would take a good chunk of their remaining time to make it there and back, twisty servant’s passages and patrols of Frost’s men to avoid. Worth it, though. Giving her sister’s shoulders one last squeeze, Leena crawled to the edge of the roof on her hands and knees. Carefully, she swung herself back down.
Her thoughts naturally fell back into that singular, well worn rut: what to do about Bastien. Siora’s unexplained injuries had been difficult enough to ignore all this time, but now … Now she knew. He did it on purpose. Because he liked it. It was never an accident.
It followed that their parents weren’t an accident, either.
If the bastard lord had appeared just then, she would have thrown him down the stairs. It shouldn’t even be hard, he wasn’t that big of a man. Instead, she cupped her elbows and ducked her head, deaf and mute to the world until they were outside. Paused in the shadows, and waited for the mud track ahead to clear of men.
“Race you.” It was a proposition that Leena would never win, but she darted ahead nonetheless. By the timer they crested the earthen walls, she was open mouthed panting for breath. Leena braced her hands on her thighs and spun around, looking back up at the fort and all its bright points of light. A dry, whistling laugh escaped her lips and trailed off into nothing. Eventually, she recovered enough to speak.
“I hardly know what to wish for– But you’d truly leave me home all the time? While you go off on adventures? No fair, Sisi.
The idea of safety was a strange one. Neither of them had felt truly safe in so long that it almost felt like a distant memory, something they had dreamed when they came. Yet here Siora was, talking about it like it was possible. Like it could be something they made for themselves if they were just patient, just careful. But Leena couldn’t see the shadow that passed across Siora’s face, a flicker of doubt, or maybe guilt - for what she was trying to do, or for what she’d done and would do to keep them both alive.
“Race you,” Leena had said, like when they were kids, when running was a way to pretend they were free. Siora hadn’t missed the way she’d charged ahead, as if pushing through the darkness could make all the things they feared fall away. It almost made her laugh, but the sound caught in her throat. The pain in her leg had her playing catch up, her mind wandering. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they failed, if Bastien caught wind of what they were planning. Their parents weren’t Bastien’s first attempt in keeping them here, trapped at the estate.
Adventures, huh? she said with a grin, closing the distance between them. I’m pretty sure you’ll get more than you bargained for. But don’t blame me when you realise how much trouble it really is. Her grin was playful, hand reaching out to ruffle her hair as they started a short walk, continuing to catch up and confide until their time waned and both returned to what duties awaited them.
