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[Please excuse formatting restrictions, such as indentation.] Sólene Another day was sinking into the sea. Ribbons of orange stretched across the sky, their ends retreating quickly to make room for the night. Clouds hung low and drifted lazily over the city, edges ablaze with fleeting, golden light. Sólene couldn’t help but feel hopeful that tomorrow would be different. Ugh, she groaned, snapping her book shut. She knew better than that. Crossing the room, she thrust the tome back onto the shelf. She didn’t need to read the ending again. The floor creaked gently as she moved back to the window. Shades of pale blue had already begun filling in the gaps, deepening the shadows amongst the streets and weaving an inky web below. Sólene watched as details of the day drowned in darkness and those that walked below were finally swallowed by the evening entirely. “Supper, my lady,” a voice called from the door. Sólene watched oil lamps spark to life, one by one along the canal. She wondered how much the man or woman lighting them got paid each week. Another call, this time accompanied by three light knocks. “My lady? It is time for supper, please come downstairs”. Sólene payed no mind to the sound of tapping feet that echoed under the door. A life spent bringing light to others didn’t sound so bad. “Lady Sólene,” the voice hissed, “open this door right now before I —” Sólene wrenched the door open so quickly, she almost sent the small woman on the other side toppling down the stairs. “You really have to speak up, Margot. It’s hard to hear those threats from all the way across the room.” Sólene fought to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching as she watched the waiting-maid clutching her heart with one hand and attempting to rotate her wimple back to a front facing position with the other. “You..could…have,” Margot’s head finally found its original place within the headdress, “sent me to an early grave, my lady.” “Eh…” Sólene said lazily, examining the stairs. “Perhaps seriously injured, but nothing a few weeks in the sanctuary could not fix.” Margot’s nostrils flared. “But at least then you would be getting some quality rest, so maybe…you should thank me for being so considerate.” Her words hung in the air as she watched the maid’s face turn from pale to a light shade of purple, lips taught and twisting. Sólene placed a hand on Margot’s shoulder and said quietly, “you are very welcome indeed, I should only hope to be so considerate again.” She couldn’t help but giggle as Margot’s exasperated wail followed her swiftly down the stairs. Sólene reached the landing and ducked through a veil of ornamental beads that covered the entrance to her tower. They rattled and glittered as she passed, reflecting golden light from the torches hung on either side of the passage. She stood in wait, admiring the smooth, stone walls that mirrored the dancing flames. “You aren’t getting any funnier, you know,” Margot said bluntly as she poked her head through the beaded canopy. “Are you sure?” Sólene asked. “I thought humor was in the eye of the beholder.” “You’re thinking of beauty, my lady.” “Well regardless, I find myself hilarious.” The two began moving down the hall together, their footsteps muffled on elaborate emerald and gold rugs that blanketed the floor. “Do you know what’s being served for dinner tonight?” “I overheard Marianne talking about the broth taking too much time to reduce, so I assume soup of some kind is likely,” Margot said. “If it’s the one with those cheese filled noodles, I am finding some way to save you a bowl this time,” Sólene said, closing her eyes and attempting to pull back the warm, rich memories. “Oh never you mind,” Margot said, lowering her voice, “whenever it’s something special, Marianne has a tendency to leave the kitchen unattended for a several hours after serving.” Sólene stopped the laugh before it left her mouth, and flicked her gaze over her shoulder. “I always wondered why you never asked!” She whispered. Margot’s face remained smug as they crossed the upper landing and fell while descending the marble staircase to the grand atrium. Just as Sólene made to take a right into the dining hall, Margot’s hand caught her wrist. The small woman could have been made of iron from how fast Sólene was pulled to a stop. “What?” She said, spinning around. “My lady,” Margot breathed, “fix your coverings.” Sólene felt the bottom of her stomach drop. She half pulled, half ripped the sleeves of her dress down and fastened them around her wrists. Margot checked the alignment of Sólene’s hair ornament before adjusting her headscarf so it lay loosely on top of her head and allowed dark waves of hair to spill down over her shoulders. Sólene busied herself with aligning the collar, bodice, and sash of her gown. “I’m sorry, my lady,” Margot said hurriedly, “I should have noticed sooner.” “I am glad you noticed at all,” Sólene said, panting slightly as she stepped back. With a quick glance up and down, Margot gave her a nod and the two parted ways. As she entered the dining hall, one look was all she needed to gauge the room. Thirteen set places, twelve occupied seats, and eight censorious stares. “Ah…” Sólene heard from the far end of the room, “I was beginning to wonder, if by some miraculous coincidence, we had all shown up at the wrong time. Seeing as you’ve joined us now, perhaps I am correct in my assumption, no?” “Apologies, La Mére, it wasn’t my intention to—” “It wasn’t your intention to?” “What…what I meant to say was—” “Say it to all of us, please.” “It won’t happen again,” Sólene said without a shred of softness in her voice. Nothing more than an echo of a smile crossed the elderly woman’s face at the far end of the room. La Mére sat stiffly, properly, dressed in elegant black velvet robes trimmed with gold and emerald. Her white hair was tucked into a matching escoffin lined with pearls and gilded stitching, a black veil cascading out of the back. “Ah…so long as we have your word, yes?” La Mére replied in a dulcet tone. “Now take your seat, we must imagine hunger is not reserved for you alone.” Sólene strode to the open seat at the end of the table, face burning, and sat down at the head opposite the archcleric. A few of the young women were still choking on wicked smiles, while others seemed to have retreated within their headscarves. “Now,” La Mére said with practiced grace, “As this is everyone’s time you have decided to ignore, I believe it is only fair you share with us what caused this delay. We at least deserve to know why we were disrespected, do we not?” Sólene bit down on her tongue, refusing to take her eyes from those of the archcleric across the room. “Indeed,” she said, weighing the options. “Well, if you all must know, I seem to have been lost in observation and prayer.” La Mére’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Sólene. “And with my Ascension fast approaching, I thought it was only right to see it through. Anything to increase the prospect of my ceremony, right?” A collective shift spread about the table. She was met with a combination of poorly hidden disdain, tentative admiration, and a heavy silence as the women around her gaped from one end of the table to the other. La Mére remained silent for a moment, her expression unchanged. “I see,” she stated. “Almost a fortnight away now, are we?” Sólene swallowed a little too hard, and cursed herself for it. “Yes,” was all she could get out with confidence. “Then I find it very much agreeable that you are devoting yourself to such observation,” La Mére said. “Think of how few of us get the opportunity to make such an impact on the world in the first place, yes?” Someone on Sólene’s left moved in their seat quietly. She broke eye contact with La Mére for the first time since she sat down to find the woman closest to her gazing at the back wall, a half-hearted attempt to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was the youngest out of all of them, the most recent to arrive only three weeks ago. Sólene knew little more than her name, Roya. “Precisely what I was thinking,” Sólene said, turning her attention back to La Mére. “I’m sure all the women that have come before us were equally thankful for the opportunity.” The color drained out of La Mére’s already sallow face as her loose jowls pulled tight. Sólene could see the indentations where the aged woman was gnawing on the inside of her cheeks. A line had been crossed, and they both knew it. Just as La Mére opened her mouth to respond, several stewards entered the room carrying shining silver trays loaded with warm bread, freshly chopped salad, and bowls that billowed thick steam into the air. Sólene exhaled slowly through her nose as a bead of sweat crawled down the back of her shawl and came to rest somewhere between her shoulder blades. La Mére leaned back in the ornate head chair, twisting her hands together and resting them on the table. “Thank you,” Soléne said in little more than a whisper as several plates of food were laid in front of her. The steward nodded, setting down the final bowl before backing away. She looked at the soup, a mix of thickly cut vegetables, red beans, and rolled noodles swimming in a deep amber broth. Her stomach lurched, but not of hunger.
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