Shadow of the Sun

I sit dreamily in the bath, breathing in steamy air scented with lilac and cherry blossom. The hot water reddens my skin and makes me feel lightheaded, but does wonders for relaxing my muscles. I'm completely limp; my head lolls, my back slouches, and my limbs float up and away from the bath's porcelain seat, bobbing from time to time as if pulled by an invisible tide. I've been here...forever, now that I think about it. Since I came into existence, and presumably until I am no more. One would imagine the water would grow cold over the course of forever, and yet it hasn't. I decide to ask someone at the academy about that as soon as I get out of the bath, which will never happen and so I immediately forget the idea. Before I can latch on to a new one, though, my head gives in to gravity's whims and lolls over to the right. The new position is somewhat shocking at first, being so radically different, but I soon come to like it as much as if not more than lolling over to the left. Being over here stretches new muscles and redirects my senses, allowing the room's distant hissing and rasping sounds to come into focus as whispered words:

"...the changes...recovering...few days at least..."

"...threatening our...too tenuous for...are enough?..."

"Yes."

My slack and dripping wet body is lifted upward by a hand beneath each armpit, as limbs stronger than I imagined possible defy the rules of my reality and pull me from the water. This changes

everything

; I can hardly keep

pace

with the new possibilities around me. In this brave new world I've been dragged to, anything can happen--I feel cool air hitting parts of me that until now have only known bathwater and gentle pressure from an entirely new substance (some kind of fabric?) as it absorbs droplets from my skin and banishes my chill. I find myself drawn to the Great Powerful Limbs and their kind offerings, doubly so once they swaddle me in the mystery fabric and cradle me against a warm body. The rhythm of their motion is a blessing; it's a sign they have chosen

me

! They have offered me warmth, comfort, and an entirely new world, asking for nothing in return. I love them. How could I not, when they've shown such selfless generosity? From above, a sweet low melody sounds, rumbling against my ears.

"Can you hear me?"

I struggle to recognize the sounds for several seconds, considering what they might signify, until I'm struck by the answer:

words

! Yes, I can hear the words, O Great Powerful Limbs! I try bursting into joyous movement at the discovery, but only my eyelids respond, fluttering briefly. The rest of my body remains still.

"Ah, good. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Another test to prove my faith. Or worth. Or something else. Regardless, it's one I won't fail. My eyes open wide, only to be met with painfully overwhelming brightness that forces them to shut again. I can tell the Limbs aren't satisfied with this, as they grip me tighter--not with crushing rage, but with a reassuring squeeze of encouragement. They believe in me, and their belief inspires me to try again. Slowly but surely, degree by degree I crack my eyes open until I'm able to triumphantly gaze at the Limbs themselves, at their owner, at...

...at Miss Helena.

"Aha! Do you see that? That little spark of recognition? She's in there," Lady Francine declares from outside my vision. Countless memories rush toward me, jamming into the doorway of my conscious mind and getting stuck. Yet glimpses still make it through: I see Eshe, the lounge, a kiss, teary eyes, teacups, a string of saliva, a handshake, Her Majesty's ritual room, and then...the bright white heat of molten ideals and beliefs. Dancing sparks of joy and fury locked in an uneven duet. A rain of passion pouring over a blood-soaked canvas.

"Finally." Miss Helena looks exhausted; dark circles lurk under Her emerald eyes, and worry creases Her brow. I want to hug Her, ease Her concerns, and reassure Her of my love, but the most I can do is blink repeatedly. "Don't fret, Vera. You'll regain movement over the next few days." My attempt at a grateful stare is thwarted by the room going in and out of focus seemingly at random. Miss Francine approaches, her hair a flaxen smudge in the corner of my sight.

"'Vera'?"

"It seemed appropriate."

"The same but less?" A subtle note of distaste creeps into Miss Francine's voice.

"Not less. Cuter. More affectionate. Simpler, perhaps, but only just so." Simpler sounds nice, especially with how complicated my life has gotten recently. I can't actually remember how or why my life got complicated, but I know Miss Helena would only make things simpler if it had. She's kind and considerate that way.

"Of course, Your Majesty." The royal spymaster sighs. "Will she still have some fire in her?"

There's a beat of silence before Miss Helena speaks.

"She will be

fine

."

I want to thank her for caring so profoundly, but "Mmmnnaa..." is all my vocal cords offer after significant coaxing on my part.

"Hush. Listen closely, okay?"

I blink my eager affirmation.

"I have business to attend to for much of the day. Unfortunately, the delicate nature of said business means you cannot attend. In the meantime, you'll be with Celeste and Lyla. I want you on your best behavior, understood?" More blinking. "Excellent. I'll see you this evening." Miss Helena passes me over to her ladies-in-waiting and brusquely departs with Francine. The sudden nature of Her absence is unpleasant, like developing an emotional itch, but I focus my efforts on behaving well to soothe the distress. Not that I'm really doing much behaving at all; Celeste and Lyla make my movements for me, carrying me to the royal wardrobe, removing my towel, and positioning me on my back.

"I finally cornered Max yesterday." Lyla smirks. "He told me the knight had an

insatiable

appetite. Worked their way through half of the bathhouse before they left." Each servant grabs one of my shoulders, pulling me into a sitting position. My head slumps forward.

"That's what, two per day? I've seen old barons manage twice that." Celeste grabs a bunch of cool-colored silk scarves and begins tying them around my wrists and ankles.

"Not like this. They did the 'passionate lover' thing

every

time. Really played up the knight angle too, apparently." Lyla pulls my hair back into a high ponytail.

"That does sound hot."

"Doesn't it?"

Something about their discussion disquiets me. I glimpsed memories of Eshe earlier, images of the strapping figure with bronze skin and a mop of short dark curls, but I don't remember what they meant. For whatever reason, hearing about their sexual exploits with others sends pain stabbing through my heart. Not the sort of pain Miss Helena or Miss Francine puts me through to help me improve, but the deep-down kind that predates their noble efforts. The sort of pain one finds anchored to their sense of self, stuck underneath it so tightly that one ceases differentiating between the two. Pain powerful enough to burn off some of the fog in my head, allowing a more familiar kind of thought to enter:

Eshe didn't want me. I must have done something wrong, must have been somehow insufficient, and they pushed me aside in favor of bathhouse servants.

I expect my distress to escalate at the realization, for the sense of inadequacy to make me hide within a darker, angrier corner of myself. But instead, a foreign sense of relief blooms to dull the edges of my sorrow. A gentle pressure in the back of my mind redirects my attention: I'll be fine without Eshe--Miss Helena loves me! She's the only one who ever will, and the only lover I'll ever need.

"D'you think they'll ever come back?" The servants reposition, with Celeste grabbing my shoulders and Lyla my hips. I realize the scarves are the extent of my clothing for the day, and my eyes widen.

"Hah! You'd like that, wouldn't you? But I really can't say--their visit seemed hard on Her Majesty, but not entirely negative. You lonely girls will have to pray on their return. Three, two, one..." they lift me into the air. "Gods, she's light. Surprises me every time." I've no choice but to stare at Celeste's corset as they move me, my peripheral vision showing our journey out of the royal chambers to some unknown destination. I almost wish I didn't have my newfound lucidity for the trip--guards, couriers, and clerks steal curious glances at my naked body as it's paraded through the palace, and I don't even have the muscle control to squirm or tilt away for some tiny measure of modesty. Any slim pretense as to my role in the palace is altogether cut, and my only recourse is blushing furiously and shutting my eyes tight. Miss Helena wants this. I trust Miss Helena. Therefore, this must be what's best.

The ladies-in-waiting stop. I open my eyes and see Sir Yonah, Arlunn's most dashing and incompetent knight. We have little history; I tried bribing him once, but he was too dumb to understand, thinking it was a genuine gift. He casts lewd glances my way with absolutely no subtlety.

"Hmm, here I thought it was morning, and yet I'm presented with such shining stars!" Yonah makes a grand gesture of kissing Lyla and Celeste on each cheek. "Some knights may praise the sun, but I cannot if Sol attempts to block such beauty as this."

"Good morning, Sir Yonah."

"Good morning, Sir!" The two greetings couldn't be more different--Celeste's is dry and disinterested, while Lyla's is sultry and drawn out.

"Good morning, my stars. Say, I think moving furniture is rather beneath your station!" He chuckles at his own joke, then leans down and tugs my nipples. My breath catches and my ass clenches. "Oh, it's Veronica! My apologies."

Lyla giggles. "Don't tease Vera, Sir! She's had a rough few days."

"Vera, hm? Well, I can only imagine. All part of her next big scheme, no doubt!" Yohan's hand smacks against my pussy and asshole with a resounding crack, igniting tingling pain that quickly becomes glowing heat. Another older, more familiar kind of thought enters my mind:

I should have killed him. I never had a reason to, but right now, I truly regret never having had him drawn and quartered. Preferably in public.

"What's the game this time, 'Vera'? Widening those holes until you can smuggle in a 'friendly' regiment? Converting guards to your cause with daily fellatio? Mm...I'm sure they love you, down on your knees with your little mouth full. Because then they don't have to listen to you whine!" He cackles, and from Lyla's shaking arms I know she's holding her own laugh back as well. I give him a glare spiteful enough to light fires.

How dare he! Doesn't he know who I am? I am...Vera? Is that right?

As his words sink in, the fog returns and the heat drains from my expression to my sex. What if he pulled me off to the side and face-fucked me right now? Left me barely twitching in some distant corner, unable to stop the spit and cum from leaking out the corner of my mouth? Fuck, he's as low as one can

get

in the court, and I'm still barely fit to be a temporary sheathe for his cock. What I wouldn't give for the chance. My gaze submissively drops to his feet, I start salivating, and a passing draft is cool against my now-slick folds. I hope he breaks me.

"Unfortunately, Sir Yohan, we are expected elsewhere. Good day to you." Celeste rides the line between deference and contempt with the expertise of a career servant. I take a deep, shuddering breath as we leave him behind, caught entirely unaware by my own thoughts. What the fuck? Why did...is this what Miss Helena intends for me? Groveling at the feet of insects for rough sex? No. No, definitely not. She respects me too much for that, loves me too much to sentence me to such a fate. I am her lover, bound to her with the fabric of reality, and the passion she gifted me with is powerful enough to backfire at times. That's all.

"Bye Yohan!"

"Goodbye, girls! Goodbye, sofa!" The dolt doesn't know how lucky I am. When his family line is nothing but dust, I'll still be perfectly content in Miss Helena's arms.

"Lyla, can you go on ahead and ready our little nook?" The servant nods, transferring me fully into Celeste's arms and skipping off after Sir Yohan. Not a very dutiful girl, it seems. Or perhaps she just knows I can't complain about her conduct any time soon. Celeste kneels down and pretends to adjust my scarves.

"Don't give him any mind, Veronica. Man's got extra testicles where his brain should be," she whispers. I look at her appreciatively. The servant is reaching the end of her youth, and as such carries herself with more dignity and self-respect than Lyla and her peers. She has fair, freckled skin and often a wry quarter-smile on her face when she believes nobody's watching. Kindness radiates in her brown eyes. I never noticed that before. "You can't talk, right?"

Doing nothing is my answer.

"Okay. How about one blink for yes, two for no? Can you do that?"

Blink.

"Good." Celeste stands again, hoisting me up with her. "We've got the day free; I thought you might enjoy some time in the gardens."

Blink.

"Lovely. Would you like a coat? Her Majesty said to keep you this way, but I figured we might be able to skirt that particular rule if we took you outside."

I blink hard, the corner of my lip twitching upward.

Celeste smiles, pushing a strand of hair out of my face. "I thought so. Palace is full of old leches anyway if you ask me." She grabs a long, thick coat in the vestibule before the royal gardens, wrapping my entire body in its warm embrace. I let out a big sigh as it banishes my nudity. I'd managed similarly skimpy outfits before, but wearing one while completely frozen brought on an entirely new level of vulnerability--one I couldn't stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Miss Helena would understand. She only wanted me naked because it was best for me anyways. Yet it...wasn't? The logic makes no sense, but a comforting presence in my psyche firmly tells me to ignore the contradiction.

Celeste holds me tighter in my bridal carry and exits to the royal gardens. The ample sun and high stone walls do wonders to block the cold autumn breeze, leaving us comfortable to wander among the rows of flowerbeds and fruit trees at our own leisure. She sets the pace, only occasionally stopping to ask if I'm comfortable. My favorites are--

"Chrysanthemums." Alice picked one of the pink flowers out of the veranda's planter and offered it to me.

"Kur-sanna-mum." I scrunched up my face. "What do they mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "They don't 'mean' anything. They're flowers."

"But Miss Annalise said--"

"--I know what the finishing school says, but they don't know what they're talking about. You know better than to listen to their nonsense." Alice crossed her arms.

"Is that so."

We both started at Mother's sudden appearance behind us. She was in another one of her nightgowns, this one dark red with a matching shawl. I watched nervously as she walked closer, the thin loose fabric concealing her narrow, almost gnarled body. Mother liked saying she used to be beautiful, but childbirth had stripped away her health and curves. I didn't really know what that meant.

"I was joking, Mother." Alice instinctively took a half step in front of me, and I eagerly slid behind her. But despite the teenager's bluster, Mother easily ignored her and focused on me.

"Vera."

Did...is that what Mother used to call me?

She was using the special voice, the soft one normally reserved for apologies and bribes. "Your sister is lying to you."

"That's not--"

Mother knelt down, wincing in pain at the motion. "Chrysanthemums symbolize triumph over the cycle of life." She put a hand on my shoulder. I stared at her with wide eyes, still uncertain of her intentions. "To bloom in autumn is to face imminent wintry death, yet the chrysanthemum does so with spectacular beauty. Even as its fellow flowers are devastated by harsh winds and frosts, it feeds on their corpses and refuses to bow." The image of roots digging into the earth and eating dead bodies sent chills down my spine, and I grabbed Alice's skirt.

"You're scaring her."

"I'm telling her the truth. You could have yourself--this is all in your studies. Unless, of course, you've been slacking in your schoolwork?" It wasn't a question; Alice was beyond slacking at this point, and we all knew it. She didn't even bother responding to the barb. "I thought so."

My sister peeled my hand away and stepped forward to confront my now-standing Mother, successfully goaded. I knew what was coming next, and so I busied myself with my new flower, gazing at the rings of petals and drifting away.

"...completely useless! Only fit for a pampered little..."

"...built our home, girl. Our fortune. Don't mistake your lack of work ethic for..."

The kris-anta-mum smelled like grass, not perfume or sweetness like the other flowers. It felt soft against my face, though; I liked that.

"...do you even bother? None of them like or respect you, you know that, right? You may as well..."

"...come to expect selfishness from you, Alice, but so long as you're in my home..."

I wandered away slowly but surely, humming an aimless tune.

"...ambushing us out here, wandering around the manor like some miserable spirit..."

"...over dramatic. I'm merely enjoying a walk in my own home, and I will not be talked to..."

"...UGH! I HATE you!"

I didn't have to look up to know what was going on; the crunch of boots on gravel and my past experiences told me Alice was storming off toward the main road of the noble quarter. Off to wherever she went, doing whatever she did. I had tried to join her once, but she said I was too young.

"Vera! Come here." Mother offered a hand, and I wandered back as if magnetically drawn toward it. "I'll not have both my daughters abandoning me."

I wrapped my fingers around her cold and bony ones. We stood on the veranda for a while that way, with Mother clenching her jaw and staring at the path while I twirled my flower and swayed gently. She often got like this after fighting with Alice, wanting me by her side while she was distant and quiet. I didn't understand but knew better than to ask why.

"The chrysanthemum is often funerary. It symbolizes celebrating a life well-lived, rather than mourning its end. That's what I was trying to say." She sighed. "Before your sister interrupted." Her energy and presence were rapidly diminishing as if she was shrinking right before my very eyes. It was an odd thing to imagine, her getting smaller and smaller. What if she got so small I couldn't find her? Alice might like that, but I didn't think I would.

"Mother?"

"Hmm?" She looked away from the path down at me, releasing some of the tension in her neck and shoulders.

"Does it really eat dead bodies?" I offered the flower to her. She took it and tucked it in her hair with the practiced grace of someone who'd been courted a thousand times.

"Only when it has to."

The memory fades as quickly as it arrived, leaving me slightly dazed and staring into space. Once again, the expected emotional reaction doesn't come, blotted out by a surge of affection and gratitude for Miss Helena. Celeste doesn't even notice; dazed and spaced out isn't exactly a change from my normal demeanor, and so she continues bringing me down the narrow path of the gardens.

"There you are! I must have checked half the palace for you." Lyla ran over to us, now donning a coat similar to mine and panting. "Sorry I took so long."