“I am glad they got here first,” Adreet said as she tucked the last of her thread away in the simple bag at her feet. “That means that the maidservants have been able to begin working on the cleaning.”
“I only hope Delmar came too. I am not looking forward to all the tending that these lands are going to need.” Errol frowned at the underbrush crowding the cart.
“Candra will help you.”
“I know, but the task is beginning to look a bit daunting,” Errol replied eyeing the appearing cottage with suspicion.
I found myself disagreeing with him rather strongly. The cottage looked perfect to me. Ivy and a flowering vine rioted up the walls on either side of the double main door. The peeling stones were sturdy looking, despite their need of a whitewash. The windows appeared watertight with sturdy shutters for the storm season. Nestled in a bed of wild flowers and brush, I thought the entire setting quaint and refreshing after the cool pomp of the High King’s palazzo. I turned to tell Errol so, when suddenly my eyes fell upon the most beautiful sight.
A great willow, ancient by the height of its stature, stood to the left of the house. Branches and long tresses of leaves stirred slightly in the breeze and my memories of the afternoon in the High King’s garden rose to the surface.
“Are there more willows like that one?” I asked.
Errol looked up at the great tree and then turned to smile at me. “A great many more, child. This property is what they call a willow farm. The High King’s willow trees came from here as seedlings years ago. There are willow trees all over the property. Now it is more devoted to vegetables and a great pond area to the west full to overflowing with pussywillows and rushes. I am sure Adreet will have you busily harvesting some of both as soon as she has the household under control. Won’t you, dear?” he asked as the wagon stopped before the front door.
Whatever Adreet was going to say in response was drowned out by a sudden clashing of raised voices from within the house. The doors burst open and a girl of perhaps eleven came running out, red hair streaming behind her and hand clutching something. Upon seeing us, she swiftly whisked the object behind her back and plastered an innocent look on her face.
“That is my comb,” a second child yelled as she ran from the house. She was older than the red head. Half of her rich auburn hair fell down her back, while the other half was pinned up nicely. “Mother, please tell Candra to give me back the comb. I am in the middle of putting up my hair.”
“You are too young to be doing your hair that way,” a third girl protested in a tone of supreme knowledge. “Besides, the combs are mine and you did not ask to play with them.” Unlike her sisters, she moved with a dignified grace. I knew immediately that this was Galatea, the one prone to posing. Not just because she looked to be my age, but because I could see why she would be slightly vain. She was everything I wished to be, slender, but filling out into womanhood, with a classically beautiful face and obviously gorgeous hair that stayed perfectly in place.
I was thin. My curly hair never stayed in place and in humidity, it frizzed. My face wasn’t ugly, but it was dominated by my nose which was slightly too long for the accepted concept of beauty.
“But you told me I could borrow them yesterday,” Eloine protested.
“This isn’t yesterday,” Galatea pointed out.
“But I didn’t want to use them yesterday. I want to use them today.”
“Girls,” Adreet interjected. Her mellow voice cut through the exchange. All three girls turned to look at their mother, who was getting down from the wagon. “Eloine and Candra, give the combs to your sister.”
“But mother...” Eloine began. Candra, however, walked over to her oldest sister and presented her with a sweaty comb.
Adreet turned and simply raised a hand. Eloine’s mouth shut. “I said give your sister her comb, El. I want no discussion.”
With visible reluctance, Eloine removed the comb from her hair and handed it over to Galatea.
“Now that your issue is resolved, I would like to introduce you to the new temporary member of the family.”
“You mean Ilias isn’t coming?” Candra broke in, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Ilias is busy,” Errol commented from the back of the wagon where he was unloading the luggage with the help of the driver. “He might visit us later, but it won’t be for a while.”
“Girls, this is Donellea Ilar, but I believe she would be content with you calling her Zezilia.”
“Please call me Zez,” I offered as I saluted them formally.
“Oh, you have been to court,” Galatea gushed. “I am Galatea and you simply must tell me everything about being presented.” She smiled brightly at me.
“Me too,” Eloine added.
Candra just studied me with serious green eyes. While the strangely colored eyes looked odd on her father, they looked exotically perfect in her sweet face. I smiled at her in what I hoped to be a friendly way. Based on her mother’s description, I believed that she and I would have the most in common.
“Her name is Candra,” Eloine offered as she stepped forward. “I am Eloine.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” I responded politely.
“Mother, can she stay in my room?” Eloine asked eagerly.
“No,” Galatea interrupted, “She will be staying with me. After all, we are the same age.”
“She is having her own room.” Errol set the last box down on the ground with a thump. “Now, all of you carry something in.”
“But Momma,” Galatea whined in a very unattractive way.
“It isn’t you mother’s decision, girls. It is mine. I say she has her own room and that is
