Fion

After being led down the treacherous mountain path, I learn it actually makes up the back edge of Bast’s estate. He leads me inside the grand home, more like a castle made of white stone and wrought iron, and we are immediately attended by a dozen servants.

“This is Lady Fion Endellion,” he introduces me to them. “While she is under this roof, she is your mistress. You will treat her with the unwavering respect and devotion she is due as my special guest.”

“Master Shrike,” the house steward looks on me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually returned with the sleeping maiden from the tale?”

Bast looks at me with fondness and pride before answering, “The same.”

A collective gasp goes up from the servants, and I realize this notoriety of mine is quickly growing old. Will I have to endure this everywhere we go? I’d almost prefer to be back with Mirantha’s monsters; at least with them, no one cared a whit who I was. They only wanted to eat me.  

“I will take Lady Fion to greet Lord Boyd this afternoon. See to it she is properly bathed and dressed.” To me, more quietly Bast says, “If there is anything you require, be it small or great, do not hesitate to ask, and it shall be yours. All I own belongs to you already, and there is nothing I will not get for you. Be it jewels or castles or land, even a crown. If you desire it, you shall have it, my lady.”

He’s overwhelming as usual, I think, though I only smile at him.

“You have my gratitude, Master Shrike.”

He winks at me playfully and we go our separate ways to attend to our toilet. Even more than the bath I took at camp, I enjoy this bath in my own private wing of Sebastian’s castle. The wide marble tub is situated before an enormous window which overlooks the estate, and all of the amenities are the peak of luxury, from the plush blue towels to the silk robes and expensive creams, right down to the little dark chocolates I’m served as dessert after a light lunch of cucumber sandwiches.

My attendants, three cheerful young women, work hard to get all the knots out of my hair and braid it intricately in an almost lacelike pattern. Then later I am astonished when they lead me to a closet bursting with resplendent gowns in every style and color.

“Why does he own so many women’s garments?”

“Master Shrike has restocked the wardrobe every year since moving into this castle in anticipation of your arrival, Lady Endellion. You’ll find all of the gowns clean and, according to him, exactly your size.”

He has a good eye, I observe as I move amidst the gowns, and a good memory, for only glimpsing me once when he was eight-years-old. Indeed, these all look like they’ll fit me perfectly. To the attendants, I say:

“I do not know the customs of this era. Would you help me select a gown suitable for presenting myself before Lord Boyd?”

The women help me into a square necked gown of deep purple with long trailing sleeves, and over that they layer another gown of black that has no sleeves and rises only to my bust. They belt it with a long silver chain and place soft black velvet slippers on my feet. Then from a large cupboard strung with jewels of all kinds, they select a necklace with a delicately hand wrought silver circle set with a velvety amethyst jewel. A large white pearl drop dangles from the bottom of it, equal in size to the amethyst. The ladies put it around my neck and they all exclaim how beautiful I look.

They want to give me pearl earrings as well, but my ears are not pierced. They are so convinced how well they would look I almost think they’re ready to pull out the needle and pierce me this very insistent, but I am adamant in my refusal. This much decoration is enough—more than enough for my tastes.

About four o’clock Bast comes in dressed simply but with effortless elegance, also in black with black breeches and a black velvet vest worn over his gleaming white tunic. His smile when he greets me is positively radiant.

“Lady Fion,” he takes my hand to bow before me gracefully and kiss my fingers. “How are you more beautiful each time I see you?”

I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I can only blush.

“Was the wardrobe to your liking? Did everything fit alright?”

“As you see,” I spread my arms, and he nods with great satisfaction.

“You look perfect,” he says. “Well, almost perfect. If you wouldn’t mind a single addition.”

I watch with guarded curiosity as he pulls a gold ring set with a large diamond from his pocket.  

“Tell me, Fion, did they attach any particular sentiment to rings placed on certain fingers in your time?”

I blink at him. “Not that I am aware of.”

“No?” he smiles mischievously. “Let’s just see where this one fits, then,” he says, and he slips it effortlessly onto the fourth finger of my left hand. “Like it was made for you,” he declares. “But then, it was.”

I sense a strange emotion like satisfaction emanating from him, but also humor, as though this is a great joke only he knows. I blink at him suspiciously.  

“It is a generous gift. Thank you, Bast, but—”

 “You don’t like it,” he says, and his face falls with the realization.

He reads my thoughts better than I’d have guessed. “It is rather large and heavy,” I remark holding it out to view the sparkling diamond.

“You’d prefer something more understated. Like the ring you already wear,” he indicates to the ring on my first finger, a small woven daisy crown in miniature, the leaves and petals twinkling with the tiniest jewels.

“This was a gift from my mother,” I say, feeling my breast prick faintly with suppressed emotion. “There is no other piece like it in the world. But yes. Something more this style would be suitable.”

“I understand. I will try to be more mindful of your preference in the future. But for now it would please me greatly if you’d wear this ring when we go to visit my lord.”

“If that is your wish.”

“It is,” he smiles at me brilliantly.

He’s so considerate, I think as I take his arm and he leads me out to the carriage waiting in the courtyard. In this and in everything else, he has proven a conscientious gentleman. As always I am overwhelmed by him, but not put off. Indeed, I find his unwavering devotion and attentiveness incredibly appealing, not to mention flattering, though I do still wonder about his motivation.

Is it me he is infatuated with, or the sleeping maiden of legend? Because one is a human with a personality, preferences and emotions, dreams and desires. And one is a trophy.

As we ride further into Quartzmarch more and more people leave their houses to greet us with cheers and shouts of acclamation.

“Don’t sit there like a statue,” he urges me as he waves to them. “They’ve come out to greet us; it’s impolite not to greet them back.”

“I thought you said all this praise and attention was wearisome.”

“They are only expressing their love for me. Why should I resent that?”

“You’re secretly enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Does it make me such a bad person if I am? I put up with their mocking for years,” Bast’s grin trades for a faint frown as he recalls unpleasant memories. “Now that I’ve taken the witch’s castle, I’m the hero of the hour, and having you by my side in the same hour feels like the will of Valion. Your presence at my side proves to them all my devotion wasn’t in vain. They have no choice but to acknowledge me.”

“You feel vindicated.”

“I feel blessed.” Turning from the crowd, he directs the full force of his attention on me in the form of a smile so brilliant I forget everything else.  “Because I have you, Fion.”

The moment passes as quickly as it came, leaving my heart fluttering helplessly as he turns his attention back out on the crowd, waving to them and accepting their adoration with grace and nobility.

I watch him, wrapped deeply in my own thoughts. I see Bast enjoys his role as a celebrity after all. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m sure if it were me, I would grow tired of it very quickly. If I do become Bast’s wife, that’s one difference we’ll have to manage if we’re going to maintain a healthy relationship…