Chapter 15

Gwendolyn was still in her bath when a loud knock came at the door. She had hesitated to ring the bell when she decided to take a bath. After all, she had the ‘running water’ that Gavral had shown her. But after a time, she decided to follow his instructions, and a servant had brought up woven fabrics.

“Towels, for you to dry yourself with,” the young woman had told Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn had already been marveling at the luxury she now found herself in when the woman had handed her a similar type of fabric shaped into a sort of dress that opened at the front and tied with a smaller strip of fabric. “And a robe,” the young girl, who looked no older than Gwendolyn, had said, before adding, “and what scents would you like?”

Of course, Gwendolyn hadn’t known what that meant. She had to ask and was confused and delighted to learn that in the Palace, they could dry flowers or press them to make oils, which they used to create luxurious baths. She had chosen a bath that smelled like pine trees and forests.

So, when the sharp knock came to Gwendolyn’s door, she started. She was relaxing, perhaps even dozing off in the vapor that rose up around her and in the dim candlelight. Despite the lengthy time she had spent in the bath, the water had remained warm somehow, and Gwendolyn was fascinated by it. She had never had a truly hot bath, always having to bathe after the rest of the family, when there was precious little water left and it was tepid at most.

Gwendolyn stood in the bath and reached for her towel, but just as she did so, the same young girl from before peeked her head around the corner.

“Oh, madam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” the young girl squeaked, withdrawing immediately from the sight of Gwendolyn’s naked body glistening in the candlelight.

Embarrassed, Gwendolyn grabbed the towel and hastily wrapped it around herself before stepping out of the basin. Then she used the towel to wipe away the excess moisture, chuckling to herself at the genius of the design as she did so. When she felt she had sufficiently dried, she grabbed the robe from the chair nearby and secured it around her waist before she exited the washroom and saw the young girl cowering by the door.

Before Gwendolyn had a chance to speak, the girl said, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell my mum I didn’t’ follow the protocol—” the young girl was jabbering wildly.

Gwendolyn put up a hand to stop her, and the girl fell immediately silent. With as much kindness as she could, Gwendolyn said, “it’s quite all right. I don’t even know what the protocol is. I’m new here.” Gwendolyn sank into a nearby couch, one made from some rich, silky fabric in a blue the color of twilight. “Sit,” Gwendolyn said, patting the couch.

“N-no, I mean, ma’am, I can’t… we aren’t allowed to sit on the Palace furniture,” mumbled the girl.

“It’s okay, I’d like you to, please,” Gwendolyn said encouragingly. After a long moment, in which the girl’s eyes ricocheted between the couch and Gwendolyn, she sat down. She sat on just a corner, most of her body hanging off into the air, as if at any moment the couch may disappear and leave her to fall.

“What’s your name?” Gwendolyn asked her.

“Pegella,” the girl replied quietly.

“How old are you, Pegella?”

“I’ll be sixteen next month,” the girl replied.

“What is it you didn’t want me to tell anyone?” Gwendolyn asked her kindly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Is just that I didn’t knock before I went int’ the bathroom,” the girl said. The more she spoke the more Gwendolyn realized she had a strange way of speaking. Gwendolyn had never left The Floating Valley, so she didn’t know if it was some accent or if it was an impediment to the young woman’s speech, but either way she leaned a little closer to better hear and understand.

“Why don’t you tell me what you should have done?”

“Well, I should have announced mysef,” Pegella said. Gwendolyn noticed that her odd way of speaking seemed to get worse as the girl got more nervous, resulting in strange, dropped sounds from her words.

Gwendolyn took the girl’s hand. “Pegella, look at me,” she said. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything, okay? I promise.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Pegella.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m Gwendolyn.”

“No, I can’t… they’d beat me if they knew…” the girl started to mumble again.

“Who would?”

“M’ parents.” Pegella said, sounding nervous again. “Th-th-they work h-h-here in the castle an-and they are very strict. I could never call you Gw-gw-gw-gw--” the girl struggled to get the name out, but Gwendolyn simply waited, nodding encouragingly at her. “Gwendolyn,” Pegella finally said. “I just couldn’t. A Lady like you, and beautiful, and a guest of the Ki-King,” Pegella shook her head.

“I’m no Lady, Pegella,” laughed Gwendolyn. “Until two weeks ago, I was a lonely farmer’s daughter who had never left her village. You’re probably far more cultured than I. You live in Ardelen!”

Pegella was looking at Gwendolyn with utter disbelief. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“Pegella, I’m new to this city. I don’t really need much in the way of service, but I could use a friend. Surely if your parents are so accustomed to serving demanding Lords and Ladies, they wouldn’t want you to refuse me?”

Pegella looked off into the distance for a moment, then nodded. She met Gwendolyn’s gaze and held it for the first time. “Okay,” she said, sounding less nervous. “Gw-Gwendolyn.”

“Now, if it makes you feel better, you can treat me like you would any other guest of the King outside these rooms. But whenever you happen to just be helping me, please just think of me as a friend, okay?”

“I’ll tr-tr-try,” the girl replied. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

“Great,” Gwendolyn said excitedly. “So, what is it you were knocking for?”

“Oh!” Pegella exclaimed, jumping up. “I br-br-brought you a dr-dress, for tonight’s dinner!”

“A dress?” Gwendolyn mused aloud, looking at the bag Pegella had brought in. “Where did you get a dress from? How much does it cost?” Gwendolyn eyed her bag, which she had dropped in a corner, trying to remember how much money she had left.

“Oh, n-no, it’s from the Pr-Prince,” said Pegella, sounding more confident as she pulled the gown from its bag. Holding it up for Gwendolyn, Pegella seemed more confident. Her role as attendant to the King’s guest seemed one she was comfortable in.

“The Prince?” Gwendolyn said in awe, reaching out a hand to gently touch the thin silk sheath. It was a delicate pink color, embroidered with flowers using a thread that sparkled, somehow. Gwendolyn had never seen anything like it.

“Yes, he sent for it from m-my mother, sh-she’s one of the castle seamstresses.” Pegella then added, a tinge of pride to her voice, “she is the Prince’s favorite seamstress, he always asks for her.”

“But why?” she asked.

“There’s a note,” Pegella replied, pulling a waxed sealed, rolled piece of paper. She handed it to Gwendolyn, who opened it eagerly.

Gwendolyn,

I’m grateful to you for returning my brother’s dragon to me. Solithi was his best friend, and I feel that having her here helps me keep a small part of him alive. My dragon, Liella, was also happy to have her sister back. I understand you’ll be joining my family for dinner. I thought you might need something to wear.

Prince Aparen Maitala, 1st Duke of Ardelensee, Keeper of the Sky

And, Liella

Gwendolyn stared at the paper for a moment, the flowery letters captivating her for some reason. “How kind,” she said. Then she passed the note to Pegella, reaching out to touch the lovely pink dress once again.

Pegella stared down at the note, but Gwendolyn noticed that her eyes didn’t move over the surface of the paper.

“Can you read?” she asked.

“A little,” Pegella replied. “I can read m-my own name. I-I can r-read instructions from the Palace and the g-g-g-guests.”

“But not anything beyond that?”

“I h-have a Book of the G-Gods,” Pegella said, shyness creeping back into her voice.

“Do you want to learn?” Gwendolyn asked.

“I-I don’t have anyone to t-t-teach me.”

“I taught myself, sort of. I left school at age eleven to work on my family’s farm, but I kept sneaking off to read. I could show you how I did it if you want.”

Pegella looked a little pale. “M-maybe?” she said, uncertainty in her voice.

“Well,” Gwendolyn said kindly, able to tell Pegella wanted to get off the topic, “if you ever decide you want to try, just let me know. I’m happy to help.”

With that, she turned back to the dress. “So, Pegella,” she said, drawing the young servant’s attention away from the note, “can you help me get dressed for dinner?”