Leslie Moore - Griffin's Daughter

Jelena had good reason to fear her cousin. She bent down quickly and scooped the bundle back up into her arms. “It’s just dirty laundry. I’m planning to wash it myself tomorrow.”

“ You’re lying, girl. Give me that!”

Before Jelena could react, Thessalina had seized the bundle and pulled it from her arms. She dropped it to the ground, then bent down and with a few jerks, untied the knot to expose the pilfered food. “What are you doing with this stuff? You stole this food, didn’t you? Answer me!” Like a lioness stalking its prey, Thessalina unfolded her long limbs into an attack stance, poised to pounce.

The air was heavy with danger, and Jelena knew that she would need to think very fast in order to avoid catastrophe. “I didn’t steal anything,” she said, sidling slowly backwards. “I’m just taking some provisions for my journey to Veii. I…I was told that it might be a good idea to have some of my own food, that’s all. Veii is a long way from Amsara.”

“ Huh! It’s not that far. D’you really think that Duke Sebastianus isn’t going to feed you? He paid good money for you, didn’t he? Though the gods only know why he’d want a tink like you.” Jelena could feel her cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. She was thankful for the cover of darkness, for it hid her eyes from her cousin. If Thessalina could have seen the hate that smoldered there, she would have beaten Jelena for sure. She clenched her hands into fists and prayed that the blue fire would continue to remain dormant. If Thessalina were to discover that she possessed magical abilities…

Thessalina prodded the half-opened bundle with one boot tip. Even in the dim starlight, Jelena could see the ugly expression of contempt twisting the other woman’s face. “I still don’t believe you, but I’m too tired to deal with it right now,” she said. “You’d better get to your room, and stay there until morning. If I catch you sneaking around here again tonight, I’ll beat you senseless, and I promise you won’t have my silly brother to come to your rescue.”

Jelena’s body shook with helpless anger as she bent down to gather up the food and re-tie the apron corners securely. Thessalina turned and pushed open the heavy keep door. The flickering firelight from the hearth within briefly limned Thessalina’s form with a red glow, turning her shape into something demonic. As the door swung shut on her cousin, Jelena lifted her finger in an obscene gesture, knowing that she crouched just out of range of the slice of light spilling from the doorway, and thus was shielded from any consequences of her small act of defiance.

For as long as Jelena could remember, Thessalina’s animosity towards her had been consistent and unrelenting, and because of her lowly status, there had been little she could do to deflect it or protect herself from it. As she started off again towards the servants’ quarters, the food bundle hugged tight against her breasts, she swore that tonight would be the last time she would stand and take any kind of abuse from anyone.

If I can’t find my father, or if I do and he doesn’t want me, I’ll go off and find a cave somewhere and live alone. I don’t care, just as long as I can choose how to run my own life.

I’m done being a slave!

There was not much to pack. She had very few possessions-the ivory combs that had been her mother’s, her father’s ring, a small bone-handled knife, a finely made leather pouch that had been a gift from Magnes. Almost all of her meager wardrobe would be left behind, for Jelena fled Amsara this night disguised as a boy. Magnes had provided the tunic, jerkin, leggings, and boots. He’d also found her an old leather cap that she could wear, but only if she sheared off much of her mane beforehand.

Claudia sat on the edge of her bed, watching Jelena and weeping silently as the snick snick of the shears filled the little room with the sound of finality, of the inevitability of separation and loss.

Jelena clipped one last lock, then laid aside the shears and brushed the loose hair from her head. Critically, she examined her raggedly cropped coils in the tiny piece of mirror. She swallowed hard as the reflection of a stranger stared back at her, a young woman with almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and bluntly pointed ears. She felt like she was seeing herself-not looking at, but truly seeing -for the first time.

Will I look like an elf to my father’s people, or a human, she wondered, or will they look at me like almost everyone at Amsara does, with contempt because I am neither?

“ All o’ yer beautiful hair, all over the floor!” Claudia sobbed, wringing her hands in grief.

Jelena smiled gently. “You have complained my whole life about how difficult my hair is to deal with. Well, now it’ll be much easier. See?” She pulled the cap over her head with a small flourish. “How do I look?”

“ Like my baby who’s about to leave me forever,” Claudia replied tearfully. Jelena sat beside her foster mother and allowed Claudia to enfold her against the ample cushion of her bosom. Neither of them spoke for many moments. There was just too much to say, and yet nothing to be said. Both of them knew that this was the way things had to be.

Finally, Claudia pushed Jelena away and dried her eyes on the sleeve of her chemise. “You’d better get goin’. Yer cousin’s waitin’ on ye.”

Jelena nodded silently, and rose to gather up her things.

“ Oh! I’d plumb fergot!” Claudia exclaimed. She reached into a fold of her apron and drew out the strand of blue Kara glass beads that Jelena had worn to the ill-fated Sansa feast. She pressed the necklace into Jelena’s hands.

“ Heartmother, I couldn’t possibly…These were a gift to you from the duchess!” Jelena protested.

She tried to return the necklace, but Claudia’s hands fluttered away like fat, featherless birds. “No, no, child. I want you t’ have ‘em. Besides, what’s an old woman like me goin’ t’do with such things, eh?”

“ I’ll treasure them, always,” Jelena whispered, her voice hoarse with tears. She tucked the necklace into her bag where it settled down amongst the few other small things that she could call her own.

Claudia went to the door and held it open.

“ I love you,” Jelena said.

“ I love you, too, child. Be happy.”

Jelena exited swiftly, not daring to look back, afraid that if she did, she would be unable to leave. The sound of the door shutting behind her seemed to boom and echo within the narrow confines of the stairwell, more like a great stone crashing into place, instead of a humble wood door closing on a small room in which an old woman sat alone, crying for her lost child.

Jelena’s heart was breaking as she made for the kitchen garden, half blinded by her own tears. When she reached its fragrant confines, redolent of rosemary, thyme, and jasmine, she dropped the bundled apron and leaned, weak-kneed, against the outer kitchen wall and gave free rein to her grief.

Magnes found her there, sobbing inconsolably beneath the stars that glittered like cold ice embedded in darkest velvet. “I don’t know why I feel so…so horrible!” she cried. “I should be delirious with happiness because I’m finally getting out of this awful place, but I’m not!” She buried her face in her cousin’s shoulder.

“ You have ample reason to grieve, Jelena. You are leaving behind the woman who raised you, who loved you and called you ‘daughter,’ and you may never lay eyes upon her again. Of course you should be sad. We are about to walk a road that is completely unknown to us, but whatever lies ahead, whether it be good or ill, we’ll face it together.” Magnes slipped his hand under Jelena’s chin and tilted her face upwards. “Courage, Cousin. We’d better get going. The night’s a’wasting, and we need to be well away before sun up.”