Chapter Two: Soft Things Break

Two days had passed since Elora’s return, yet Wrena was still disturbed. It would’ve been hard to explain if anyone took the time to talk with her, but no one, not even Rylla whom she knew saw the same thing, had brought it up. Two nights she had laid in her chambers staring up at the ceiling wondering if she was really as sound as she assumed. People don’t vanish, not in real life. Perhaps in stories read to children at night to heed them of all the malice in the world to look out for. 

A chill traveled around her shoulders, even in the sunny courtyard where her mother was holding the Queen’s receiving hour that day. She fell out of her thoughts and looked around her surroundings. She stood to the left and two steps behind her mother. She held her hands together in front of her. Her legs were locked, and as she bent her knees she could feel the cold rush of blood return to her feet. Lioraen was speaking to Countess Arlina, but even as the Countess turned her expectant eyes towards Wrena, it still took her mother also looking back for her to realize she must’ve missed a question. 

“I apologize, my mind has been a bit full today. Could you repeat what you said?” Wrena asked gently. 

The Countess hid her annoyance just a tad less than she had intended. “I asked you if you had met my son before, the Viscount Llath?” 

“Oh, I, uhm….” Wrena took a step forward and cranked her neck to look over her mother to see the young man, his lips pressed together as if he was more embarrassed to be there than she was to be caught not paying attention. He looked…familiar. Honestly, all nobles that walked through these halls looked the same. She had learned from this mistake long ago though. If she had met a noble and she was supposed to remember them, they tended to shy away, blush, perhaps stutter. With Viscount Lath’s lips being drawn in tighter as the silence went on, she had her answer. “Oh yes, we have met. It is always a pleasure Viscount.” Wrena bowed how she was taught and stood back up to see his lips were out again, but the redness wasn’t. The silence told the truth, but no one said it. 

“Thank you, your highness.” Viscount Llath said with a coat of absurdity that Wrena might’ve enjoyed if it was in a less public environment. She looked back at the Countess who did not look pleased. 

Her hands tightened as she fought the urge to explain herself. She wanted to apologize profusely, explain that she didn’t spend a lot of time in the castle. She could name those she worked with at the soup kitchen or orphanage, but nobles were somewhat lacking interest for her. Even then she felt the need to bite her tongue, that didn’t sound appropriate either. 

When she started to mentally question if she was a nice person, she heard her mother speak up. “Please excuse my eldest daughter, Countess. She is a servant of her people and thus entertains many in her day to day business.” 

“Of course,” Countess Arlina with a flat tone. “I do hope that we make a better impression on you Queen Wrena so that we stick in your memory.” 

Wrena winced at her title being used. Queen seemed so adult, so much like her mother. She wasn’t the Queen, that was Lioraen’s job, but as the family dynamic grew and more and more land was taken and sectioned off, they were always looking for more clever ways to rank the people with titles. Lioraen gave up the title of Queen very early in Wrena’s life and took upon High Queen. She could go on for a long time about the Queen title being given to her really did nothing but confuse everyone, but no one listened to just the “Queen”. Now when she heard others use it, it almost felt like a slur word. She was sure Countess Arlina would like to call her much more than ‘Queen’ for forgetting her son. 

“My dear, the notion that my daughter would recall a minor noble as a viscount is…charmingly optimistic.” Lioraen stepped in again, and this time it was Wrena’s turn to blush. The Countess’ face opened in shock at her mother’s words. Any hope the countess had of marrying her son off to the royal family was promptly shut down. “Do enjoy the rest of your stay. I trust you will find the accommodations….suited to your station.” 

Lioraen turned to the left and began to walk right where Wrena was standing stunned, but a hand grabbed her and placed her again where she was supposed to be; to her mother’s left, two steps back. Once she was placed she turned to her right to see Selayne, her lady-in-waiting, quiet as ever. Her hands overlapped each other in front of her after she was sure Wrena was back in position. She didn’t look at Wrena, but kept her head down, her intricate black braided bun pointed straight to the sky. Wrena tried to walk the same, but everything felt wrong, all she knew was she should not look back at the Countess or her son. 

“Your Majesty.” An older voice rang out ahead of them. 

Selayne held her arm out quickly to stop Wrena from walking into her mother, who had found her next guest to entertain. “Admiral Saeryn, a pleasure to see you on land. How long were you traveling for this time?” Liorean asked. It didn’t pass Wrena that her mother could do what she could not. Liorean was the epitome of a socialite. She remembered everyone and everything. 

Admiral Saeryn wore his naval uniform, something he was obviously uncomfortable wearing. Wrena had seen her mother and the admiral converse from time to time. Usually about special shipments her mother was interested in, but she had realized a while ago, she never actually said what the shipments were. 

“I heard she’s ill.” Wrena’s ears perked at a group of young ladies conversing in a group. They were younger than she, and soon realized who they were talking about and why. “I am hoping Her Majesty will allow me to visit Elora, I miss talking with her.” One of them said. 

“Did you write when she was away?” another asked. 

“Yes, but she never wrote back.” Elora’s friend sighed. 

She was debating whether to stay quiet and go back to her thoughts or try to get some more information subtly from these ladies when there was a loud crash. She turned to see the tray of hors d‘oeuvres splayed across the courtyard. A silver tray still trying to find its balance on the flat floor. Beyond it was a small girl, dressed in a servant’s outfit, but it looked more like a bag on her. Her hair was short, brushed but not more than a minute spent on it. She stayed on her hands and knees, brown hair covering her face. 

“Why you clumsy little brat!” came the hoarse voice of the head servant. An old, stout woman who stomped her way over to the young child. The girl started to scuttle on her knees to try and pick up all the food that had spilled, but once her superior got to her, her head whipped up;  her hair being grabbed and pulled back. “Look at this! A disaster fit for a tavern wench, not a servant of the royal household! You will clean it! Properly! And then you will report to the kitchens for retraining. I will not have the High Queen’s gathering marred by your carelessness.” The woman shook the girls head back and forth, which made Wrena dig her fingers into her palm. She looked back at her mother, who had not even looked in the direction of the disaster and she tightened her jaw. 

The head servant gave one more yank to the girls head before she let go, threw her hands up and stomped back to the kitchens. The servant girl still stayed on her knees, looking down at the floor, her hair more wild than it had been only a few moments before. She slowly reached out to the spilled food and grabbed them one by one. 

All the nobles around her went back to their conversations, some even so close to her that the girl hesitated to grab the food right behind their feet. There were plenty of murmurs going around that had disgust in their tone or ended with a chuckle as they looked at the servant. Even Lioraen had turned away from the crash and began her talk with Saeryn once more. She stood there rather baffled. 

 Wrena knew what she wanted to do, but she knew it wasn’t going to look good to the nobles and especially her mother. She felt almost a physical push to go over to the girl, but her etiquette held her back. She finally shook her head and let out a large sigh before she took a step away from her mother. 

“Your Highness…don’t.” Selayne said in her quiet voice, but it wasn’t enough for Wrena to walk away. Eyes followed her as she walked closer to the servant girl. She stopped at the farthest cream puff on the floor, bent down and picked it up. She stood and walked to the next and collected it, then another and another until her hands were full of the delicious treats no one would indulge in. She then knelt down by the girl, holding the tray shakingly and put the food on her side of the tray before taking it from her. 

“It’s alright, accidents happen.” Wrena smiled at her. “I cannot count the times I’ve fallen, especially in these shoes.” 

The servant girl looked at her not with gratitude, but with shock;  the conversations had ceased as all those who were there to speak with the high queen now looked at her daughter cleaning up a mess. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you. I won’t…I’ll be careful, thank you.” the girl mumbled as she stood and took the tray. 

“Wrena.” Lioraen had left her conversation and had swept in to see the scene her oldest daughter had caused. The High Queen looked at the servant with her demanding eyes and the girl backed up and bowed roughly before walking as fast as she dared to the kitchens. Lioraen’s view went back to her daughter on the floor. “You are not here to break protocol.”

Selayne shuffled beside her and took her elbow to pull her up. With a dress meant for court Wrena grudgingly took the help, even though she did not feel like accepting anyone’s help at that moment. She stood, just a few inches taller than her mother, who somehow still made her look up to her. “Kindness must be measured.” Lioraen spoke quietly this time, though not silently. Wrena looked up at her mother’s face to see what almost looked like regret. 

 Lioraen then gestured to the front of her gown, where a rogue cream puff she had missed had smeared over the beautiful dark green fabric. “Selayne, please take the queen back to her quarters to get cleaned up. Perhaps if you act fast enough the dress can be saved.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Selayne said and yanked Wrena away from her mother. She didn’t look at the nobles who stood there, watching the fallen queen do anything less than royal. 

Once back in her quarters Selayne demanded she take a bath even though she had already had one earlier in the morning. The dress was promptly taken off of her and it was in the arms of a seamstress before the water was even ready in the tub. Wrena took her humiliating bath and dried off, putting a much simpler dress on. One she could move in, yet not get scolded for wearing the trousers she wore into town when she was free of royal obligations. Those were becoming too far and few between for her liking. She was getting “old” to suitors, but she still had her title. She wondered how long she could keep from being a wife. There were much more exciting things to be, she believed. 

Once she was dressed, there was a swift knock on the door and once the two grand doors were opened by her handmaidens she was met by her mother once again. This time Seylayne was dismissed along with her other servants. Whatever her mother had to say to her she wanted to say in confidence. It was nerve wracking. 

Her mother crossed the room and closed the door to her wash room. Softly. That was how her mother preferred things. Quiet corrections. “Wrena.” 

She turned. High Queen Lioraen stood near the doorway, her posture untouched by the hours of receiving guests. Not a strand of black hair out of place. Not a breath out of rhythm. Wrena dipped her head slightly. “Mother.” 

Lioraen’s gaze moved past her, briefly, to where the door to the hallway, as if she were checking to make sure they were actually alone. “You left your place.” It wasn’t a question. 

Wrena straightened. “The child was being punished unfairly.” 

“Unfairly,” Lioraen repeated, as if testing the word for weight. 

“She dropped a tray,” Wrena continued, quieter now. “It startled a few guests, but it was nothing that warranted,”

“It warranted correction.” 

Wrena’s jaw tightened. “She was frightened.” 

“Yes.” The agreement landed harder than the disagreement would have. 

Wrena blinked. “The you saw it.” 

“I see many things.” Lioraen took a few steps closer, her voice lowering; not to soften, but to contain. “You are not wrong, Wrena.” Relief flickered; brief and dangerous. Then, “But you are not free.” 

The words settled between them, heavier than any reprimand. Wrena’s fingers curled slightly as her sides. “I only meant to help.” 

“And you did,” Lioraen said. “In full view of the court. In contradiction of those responsible for maintaining order.” 

Wrena hesitated. “Order should not come at the cost of,” 

“It always does.” Silence. Not sharp. Not loud. Just…final. Lioraen studied her for a moment, not unkindly. “Kindness is not a weakness,” she said, “but it is not neutral. It shifts balance. It draws attention. It invites consequence.” 

Wrena swallowed. “Then what am I meant to do? Stand beside you and watch it happen?” 

Lioraen’s expression didn’t change. “You are meant to understand where you stand.” Another step closer now. “Compassion, when given without measure, becomes disruption. And disruption, in a court like this, does not fall on those with power.” Her gaze flicked, just briefly, toward the door Seylayne had exited through. “It falls on those without it.” 

Wrena felt that land. Deep. 

“If you wish to be kind,” Lioraen continued, softer now, “you must also be careful. Quiet. Intentional.” she paused. “Otherwise, you do not protect them. You expose them.” 

That was the wound. Wrena’s voice dropped. “So I should so nothing.” 

“I did not say that.” Lioraen reached out then, briefly adjusting the fold of Wrena’s sleeve, a small, almost maternal gesture. “You must learn how to give without being seen to give.” She met Wrena’s eyes. “That is how you make it last.” 

As Lioraen left Selayna entered briskly. “It is time to dinner.” She spoke and again went to lift Wrena by her elbow. 

“I can walk Sel.” Wrena growled. She walked to the door as her companion opened it and waiting for her to close it before they walked down the hall and three flights of stairs. Wrena on the left a step ahead. 

As they crossed the now empty courtroom Wrena felt a tug on her that slowed down her pace. Selayna matched, but her hand landed on her arm. Wrena looked at her annoyed. “Go ahead of me and make sure Elmara doesn’t take the seat in front of the window.” 

“I am your companion, Wrena, leaving you is not what companions do.” Selayna corrected. “And I am not a fool, Your Highness, I know why you want me to leave, and I advise against it.” 

Wrena still felt the tug. She had to see if the girl was alright. “Well then, if you are truly my companion, then you will follow and make sure we are not seen.” She turned toward the courtyard and started walking at a fast pace than she was used to. She did not hear any more objections from her lady-in-waiting, but assumed she was right behind her. As they crossed the yard and got to the kitchen doors, Selayna reappeared and opened the door for her. Wrena peered in to see no motion. She could hear dishes clanging, but they were far off, somewhere not at this specific kitchen. She walked quietly around the large counters and to the back where the dressing rooms were. Wrena grabbed the door handle before Selayna could and opened the door slowly. 

Sitting on a bench bending over slowly putting on a ragged shoe was the small girl. She turned as she saw movement and once she saw Wrena, her face turned to fear. She turned her head both ways before she turned to stand, though she wobbled, keeping weight off of one foot. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I won’t…I’ll be more careful…” 

Wrena stopped where she stood as the realization came at her at full force. She was afraid of her. She watched the girl balance and shake nervously. She looked back at Selayna who looked upset herself. 

Wrena took a few more steps and sat on the bench in front of the girl. “Please sit.” She told her. The small girl hobbled her way back to the bench and sat uncomfortably. “What is your name?” 

“I….my name is…Tarin.” She hesitantly said, as if she was scared to name herself. 

“Hi Tarin.” Wrena said with a smiled. “You’re not in trouble with me.” 

Tarin looked at her hesitantly. 

“Is there something wrong with your shoe?” Wrena asked. 

Tarin took a moment to look back at her foot. “My ankle is swollen. I must’ve twisted it when I fell.” 

Wrena held her hand out. “May I see?” 

“Oh….” Tarin paused. She could see the small girl trying to determine what was the worst option. She finally agreed and lifted her leg up on the bench. 

Wrena looked at it closely. Her ankle was ridden with red bruises, it looked thick and in pain. “I do not think your foot will fit comfortably in your shoe for a day or two.” She then looked in one of the many pockets in her dress and and pulled out a small white square of fabric. She unfolded it until it was a large square and then placed it around her ankle gently, wrapping it in the best bandage she could, thanking herself for the time she had spent helping at the city infirmary. She looked up at Tarin who was looking away from what was happening, almost as if she wasn’t there anymore, but somewhere else. 

As she tucked the end of the bandage into itself she smiled. “That will at least help keep it straight as you walk.” Don’t try to put that shoe on it until tomorrow.” 

Tarin looked at her work and gave a small smile that turned into a frown. “I didn’t mean to be seen.” 

Wrena’s smile faltered as well. She looked at her handiwork, at something she had pride with, but it wasn’t enough for Tarin. She sat there thinking about all the options she had to help out the small servant girl, but the truth was, even this bandage made with her handkerchief might be more of a risk to her than helpful. She didn’t solve what was really important. She couldn’t take away the fear, she couldn’t help Tarin the way she wanted. 

But she helped, and that had to count for something. 

“Your Highness, we will be noticeably late to dinner if we do not depart soon.” Selayna told her from her position at the door where she had not left. 

Wrena looked back at Tarin and gave a small, sad smile. “Please take care of yourself.” 

“Yes, Your Highness, thank you.” Tarin replied and stood, still wobbling, but she walked away, down the opposite way of the kitchens, to the servants quarters. She hoped Tarin would be able to rest, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Her ankle would be swollen and in pain a lot longer than it should be, because she had to keep serving. She had to keep up, or there would be more consequences. With even the wrap on her ankle, her small servant friend would still hurt, whether she was there or not.