'This is your room. Not much' Iuna sniffed' but plenty for a slave.' She looked pointedly at Ythnel then pushed past her. On the other side of the hall, they stopped before a closed door. Iuna opened it to reveal another bedroom. Dolls sat upon a chest at the foot of a four-poster bed. The floor was covered with several matching rugs. An elaborate vanity stood near a large window in one wall that looked out into the courtyard.
'This is my room. Slaves are not allowed in here without my permission.' Iuna stepped into her room and turned back to Ythnel. 'And that concludes the tour.' She slammed the door shut.
It had been a long day, and Ythnel was glad to finally be in her room. She moved about in silence, unpacking her things. The emotional turmoil of the day manifested itself in a physical draining of energy, and sleep beckoned. Ythnel sat on the bed, fighting the temptation. It would be so easy just to lie back and close her eyes, to forgo the evening prayer for much needed rest. She wasn't at the manor anymore. No one would know.
I would know, her conscience scolded. And Loviatar would know.
Ythnel picked herself up and undressed. She took the whip from around her neck and knelt on the floor, her back to the door. The words of the evening prayer began to form in her mind, but she could not focus. Iuna's petulant face shattered Ythnel's concentration every time she closed her eyes. The spoiled brat infuriated her. Yet there was something about the girl that reminded Ythnel of herself. And there was the fact that her mother had been a Loviatan. Perhaps Ythnel's being here was a part of some greater purpose. Perhaps the Maiden of Pain had plans for the young girl.
First things first, she told herself. You've been hired to train this girl how to be a lady. Focus on and accomplish that before you start imagining you're here on some divinely ordained mission.
She sighed. It was an arduous task set before her, regardless. She would not be able to do it alone.
'Oh, Loviatar, the Willing Whip, I pray for the strength and wisdom to discipline this child. Let me help her, as I was helped.'
Ythnel sat quietly for a moment, looking inward for that center of peace and order. A weight lifted from her heart, and she knew her supplication had been answered. With a calmed mind, she quietly began the chant of the evening prayer, letting the rhythm sooth and refresh her. She raised the whip.
A creak from the floorboards outside her door jerked Ythnel's attention away from the prayer.
'I thought we agreed to knock first, Master Saelis.' She remained crouched, her head bowed while she waited for an answer. None came. 'Master Saelis?' This time she rose. As she did, Ythnel heard the patter of little feet running away.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Ythnel made her way downstairs, she found Prisus and Iuna already seated at the table eating morningfeast. A place was set on Prisus's left, opposite Iuna. Assuming it was for her, Ythnel slid into the empty seat.
'Good morning, Ythnel,' Prisus said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. 'We wondered if you were going to show.' A middle-aged woman in an apron appeared with a plate of steaming sausage and two eggs, which she set before Ythnel. 'I don't believe you've met Libia, our cook, yet.' Libia gave a small curtsy before disappearing back into the kitchen.
'I apologize for my tardiness, Master Saelis. It seems I overslept. I will submit to whatever penance you see fit.' There was no regret in
Ythnel's voice. It had been an honest mistake. She knew the importance of discipline, though, and did not fear punishment. Even a minor transgression like this received some sort of flogging back at the manor.
Prisus waved her off as he lifted a glass of water to his lips.
'Perhaps if you did not stay up all night casting spells, you would be able to get up with the rest of us,' Iuna chided.
Water sprayed from Prisus's mouth
'What?' Prisus yelled, all color draining from his face. He turned to Ythnel. 'Is this true?' Without waiting for a response, he turned back to Iuna. 'I don't care,' he continued, 'I do not want such things spoken in this house. Ever! Am I understood?' Iuna nodded sullenly.
'I was not casting spells, Master Saelis,' Ythnel said evenly. She looked straight at Iuna, but the girl would not meet her gaze. 'I pray every morning and evening as part of my daily devotion to Loviatar.'
'Be that as it may' Prisus paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, 'why don't we all just forget about the whole affair? I'm going to be in my study for most of the morning. I suggest you two finish morningfeast and begin Iuna's lesson.' He excused himself and left.
Ythnel and Iuna continued their meal in silence. Ythnel efficiently cut up her sausage and ate each piece with a bite of egg. Iuna lethargically stirred her food with a fork for a few moments then sighed. Pushing her unfinished plate away, she got up from the table. Ythnel stabbed the last piece of sausage with her fork and shoved it in her mouth. She used the napkin to wipe off her face and followed Iuna. They climbed the stairs, Iuna seemingly unaware of Ythnel's presence behind her. At the top, Iuna surprised Ythnel and instead of continuing down the hall to the parlor next to Ythnel's quarters, turned to the right and walked straight to her bedroom, closing the door.
'Iuna?' Ythnel called through the door. 'You heard your father. We should begin your studies.' She waited, but there was no reply. 'Iuna open this door.'
Sudden anger at Iuna's disrespect welled up inside Ythnel. She wanted to fling the door open, charge in, and spank the girl. Undisciplined punishment teaches nothing, Ythnel told herself, pushing the emotion back. The vacuum was quickly filled with uncertainty. She felt as if she stood on the edge of a precipice as doubt fought with years of indoctrination. Her mind knew Iuna needed to be taught her place, but Ythnel's heart hesitated, questioning if it was her responsibility, if corporal punishment was the correct solution.
This is the reason I'm here, she mentally affirmed. Pain brings strength of spirit.
Ythnel opened the door and stepped inside. Iuna stood there, facing her with her arms crossed.
'I did not give you permission,' she said defiantly.
'I don't need your permission. I am not a slave. Your father has employed my services to help raise you,' Ythnel said sternly. 'Now it is time to end this game.'
Iuna's eyes blazed, and her arms went rigid at her sides, her hands balled into fists. 'How dare you! You are not my mother, you pile of troll dung!'
Something stirred in the back of Ythnel's mind. A memory rushed back, sweeping her away.
Ythnel slumped at her desk, her head resting on her folded arms. Her stomach had been hurting since the morning, when she had discovered some blood in her undergarments. Sister Larulene, Mistress of Initiates, had told her it was a sign she was entering womanhood. It had done little to comfort her, and she was in a foul mood. All she wanted to do was go back to her room and curl up in bed. Instead, she sat in class, listening to Sister Yenael describing dwarf anatomy.
'Who can tell me the five most sensitive spots on a male dwarf?' the sister asked. The following silence was soon broken by the click of boot heels approaching on the hard stone floor. Ythnel slowly lifted her head to find Sister Yenael looming over her. 'Answer the question, Initiate.'
'I don't know,' Ythnel sighed.
'Are we not feeling well?' Sister Yenael asked, her voice full of compassion. Ythnel nodded. 'I don't care! Answer the question.' The sister brought her fist down with a crash on the desk. Ythnel jerked upright in her seat.
'I said I don't know. Look, those two are raising their hands. Why don't you go ask them?' She glared are the sister.
Sister Yenael's eyes narrowed, and the two became locked in a battle of wills. From the corner of her vision, Ythnel saw something fly at her. She turned toward it instinctively but was not fast enough. She was struck across the cheek by the sister's hand. The blow knocked her out of her seat, bursts of light filling her vision. She started to cry as Sister Yenael walked back to the front of the class.
Iuna sat on the floor, rubbing her right cheek. Ythnel held her hand poised for a backswing.
'You.. you hit me,' the girl sobbed in disbelief.
