Penryn already knew she was not going to offer anything more than the dress already exposed, but this woman could hardly know that.
“A wise selection, thank you,” Penryn complimented, meaning it. It was remarkably comfortable, freeing in a way she had not expected, the material soft against clean skin, although even now she felt incredibly weary. If the bed was not currently overtaken with clothing, she would well see making use of it, slipping into a deep and unrelenting sleep. Surely things could wait until the morrow...
But it was in use, and so she took to a plush chair before the fire, tucking her legs up in her skirt.
She did not know what was expected of her, if silence and separation were necessary, or if she could ease into some sort of friendliness without overstepping.
“Have you a name?” she enquired, safe enough to ask someone not bearing the signet.
A quick intake of breath and she looked over at the woman in alarm, wondering if she had breached a code of conduct already. She knew some of this people’s ways, but those texts had been old and much might have changed. “Am I wrong to ask?”
“Of course not!” the woman assured her, crushing an article of cloth to her breast, her eyes glancing very briefly to meet Penryn’s. “I just never imagined you asking me such a thing. To want to know me personally.”
Penryn frowned. For all that had been drilled into her through her studies, little had been said how the common land-folk might view her. She was promised safety during her stay, that her needs would be met, that she should have no fear as she tended to her tasks, but that answered little of the broader perspective.
“Well, I should like to know if you are keen to tell me,” Penryn pressed, feeling awkward simply by having to give such encouragement.
“Mara, my lady,” she answered hastily with a strange bob of her body, as if one of her legs had suddenly crumpled only to be caught and supported by the other before she rose again to full height. It was enough for Penryn’s eyes to widen and ever so briefly to wonder if she needed to rush forward to catch her before she plummeted to the floor.
“Mara,” Penryn repeated when she was certain help was not required.
The woman’s blush deepened and Penryn wondered if using it was a mistake, if it gave such a level of mortification.
Before she could make any further enquiries, the sound of footsteps accompanied by an odd rattling was heard through the thick door of the chamber. Mara abandoned her post by the bed and the artful taming of the mound of clothing, going to the door and opening it without even first asking if it was all right to do so.
Perhaps Penryn should be cross, but she had lived in such circumstances to know that despite appearances, and likely any assurances she would be given should she raise the issue to Henrik, the chamber was not truly hers. They would claim it so, but if they felt she needed a healer, a healer would be given entrance. The same with any other decision that would be foisted upon her.
It was quite apparent by the lack of bolt upon that particular door.
But the rattle revealed a young girl, eyes on the metalwork in front of her. It was a large dome of etched silver, the tray itself of the same colour, the span seeming too large for her to manage, yet she did so. She bent at the waist before righting herself, and if the gesture was some sort of deference to Penryn, she had not looked in the room well enough as it was directed more to the wall than the Lightkeep.
“On the table, Respie,” Mara directed, and the girl startled when she saw Penryn already seated beside it, her eyes widening briefly before shuffling closer, the distinct rattle of the tray increasing in volume.
She was trembling and terrified, and Penryn wondered how she could possibly cut such an imposing figure in a too-long dress and naked arms. But evidently, she did.
The girl did as she was bid, the tray fitting so neatly on the round table beside Penryn’s seat that she idly considered if either had been made specifically to accommodate the other. Respie took hold of the silver dome, closer inspection showing the etching to include twines of fruit still on the vine, the thorns interspersed rising from the metal itself, and she almost wanted to touch it, to see if they were as prominent as they appeared, but Respie clutched the dome close to her chest and backed away, eyes on the floor.
Penryn had almost forgotten what such food looked like, so used had she become to dried fruits and forages. Potatoes, mashed and a puddle of butter streaming in the middle, a thick slice of meat beside it, ample sauce drizzled over, thick rolls in intricate braiding waiting to be dipped and savoured.
There was a goblet with a pitcher of clean water beside, a smaller cup with something akin to cider, if a quick sniff proved true.
It was a feast, and her belly rumbled merely to look at it.
“Are you needing anything else?” Mara asked her, giving an exasperated look toward Respie, perhaps thinking that the girl should have asked it herself.
Odd, when Penryn knew full well just how nervous Mara was in her presence as well.
Odder still that tears were pooling in Penryn’s eyes, wanting more than anything to share this with the one she loved best.
“No, it looks very fine. Thank you, Respie,” she added, trying to get control of her emotions before she alarmed any of those watching her.
Respie made one of those strange, collapsing movements that Mara had done, this one so awkwardly completed it was enough for Mara to reach out and catch
