4. The Maid
As Emily began learning letters from her lady, the days flew by like arrows. From morning till afternoon, while attending to her lady, she memorized the characters her lady had written out the night before in stolen moments. After mastering the alphabet in the first few days, she peered into words and discovered something shocking.
She had thought that simply reading the letters would let her read naturally. How wrong she was. The arrangement of letters on the white paper differed greatly from their actual sounds and pronunciation. Though she already spoke fluently, she had to memorize the spelling of each word anew.
Still, the motivation of reading that pink-covered book fueled her enthusiasm, and she succeeded in memorizing basic words in a relatively short time. After about two hundred words, Lady Olivier pulled a worn dictionary from the corner of the bookshelf by the desk and handed it to her.
Thicker than a typical novel, with large illustrations on every other page, it was a children's dictionary that made it easy to understand or infer meanings. Emily gazed intently at the dictionary in her hands. Holding a children's dictionary felt strangely peculiar.
She thought of the word child in her mind. Then she glanced down at her chest. Lately, her breasts had been swelling painfully like tender buds. Fine platinum hairs, the same color as her own locks, had started sprouting under her arms and down below. Some mornings after sleep, her knees ached with sharp stabs. Her appetite had grown too, and her weight was inching up. She was growing taller by the day, curves emerging where her body had once been flat.
Emily pondered these changes in her body gravely. Olivier, who had been watching with interest, told her it was natural—she was finally shedding her childhood and finding her identity as a woman. Congratulations, she said.
Emily, still clutching the children's dictionary, looked down at her chest again with a half-hearted expression. It was slightly raised now, no longer the sheer cliff it had been. So, she wasn't a child anymore.
With a strange mix of feelings, Emily carried the children's dictionary around, flipping it open now and then to trace out words laboriously. Using the illustrations, she inferred meanings from words she already knew. Since it wasn't a foreign language but one she spoke—just learning the letters—she progressed faster than expected. For truly baffling words, Olivier taught her.
She pored over the pages until the corners frayed, muttering aloud to commit them to memory. Before she knew it, winter had passed, and spring was nearly upon them.
Today, the early spring sun shone pleasantly. Gazing out the window in admiration, Olivier enjoyed tea time in the afternoon, then strolled the garden for a long while. She paced back and forth along the small path behind the overseer's quarters, then rested on a long bench under the shade of a grand garden tree.
Like any manor, the garden in the overseer's quarters had a large tree in the middle. Long benches sat beneath it for resting while taking in the garden views. Leaning back against the bench's armrest, Olivier reclined at an angle, basking in the sunlight filtering through the branches, savoring the lazy afternoon leisure. The spring breeze rustled softly.
As Olivier closed her eyes and relaxed, Emily, sitting beside her, pulled out the pink-covered novel she was now starting to read haltingly. One fact she learned only after gaining some literacy: the book's title. On the pink cover was written The Prince from the White Castle. It matched the titles of the common romance novels lining her lady's bookshelf.
Reading the book was trickier than rote memorization of words. Unlike everyday speech, the sentences followed rigid grammar structures. Without knowing grammar, full comprehension eluded her.
Emily read from the beginning, stumbling over familiar words, and sought Olivier when she hit a snag. With her lady's help, she grasped the gist of the early plot. It opened with Ferris of the White, prime minister of the great magic kingdom of Exslon, setting out to rescue a beautiful princess kidnapped by villains from a distant land.
The Ferris described in the book was identical to the white-haired man Emily had met by chance at the mine entrance. Hair, skin, and attire all pure white, with only his eyes a transparent blue—the continent's strongest mage. He lived in the heart of Exslon City, in the White Exslon Castle, seat of the magic kingdom Exslon. That was the name of the stately white castle on the cover.
"My lady."
Emily hesitated before calling her name, and Olivier opened her eyes. Sunlight highlighted the contours of her pretty face.
"...Yes?"
Her voice carried a drowsy languor from the walk.
"Is Exslon a real place?" Emily asked, pointing to the book's cover. Olivier nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded.
"Mmm. But not here—it's in the middle of the Alpine Mountains on the eastern continent. The Alpine range spans central eastern continent, encompassing Ashton, Templton, and Slaton. It's high and rugged, so few people live there; mostly large beasts and monsters. In a prominent basin amid it all sits Exslon. They say it's a stunningly beautiful city befitting a magic kingdom, but I've never been."
"Is Ferris real too?"
Emily asked, and Olivier's lips curved in a faint smile.
"Lord Ferris. Exslon has no class system, but as a nation's prime minister, he's surely nobility. That book is one of countless romances featuring him as the male lead. Half the romance novels in Leon or Reisha bookstores star Lord Ferris. He's the world's most famous and powerful mage."
Emily knew Leon was Templton's capital, but Reisha was unfamiliar. Reading her curious expression, Olivier explained: Reisha was Ashton's capital, a city with over a thousand years of history since the old Koelton Empire, the world's most prosperous and largest.
Suddenly pensive, Emily examined her left palm. Memories of that day flooded back vividly. At the mine entrance, the white mage who approached her after she escaped crushing pain and left a mark on her hand. Why?
Lost in thought, she spotted movement at the side gate of the overseer's quarters in the distance. Emily and Olivier turned silently to look.
Servants emerged carrying travel bags, stacking them neatly on the carriage roof. After three or four, they bound them tight with thick ropes, covered with a heavy cloth, and secured again.
"Finally."
Olivier spoke, eyes fixed on the carriage, a faint smile on her lips.
"...The interminable Templton Academy winter break is over."
She murmured peacefully, eyes narrowed. Her genuine relief lightened Emily's heart too. They never spoke of the guest room incident, tacitly avoiding it, but their feelings aligned. The dark cloud named Olens, weighing down the household air, was finally lifting.
"Tomorrow. The day brother leaves."
A serene smile bloomed on Olivier's lips.
"And once tonight passes, you can sleep comfortably in your own room. Three months since becoming a maid, right?"
Emily nodded. Tomorrow meant freedom from curling up on the long sofa like a shrimp. And it was the monthly holiday. She looked forward to returning home, dining with her parents. The neighbors next door were utterly loathsome, though.
Emily grimaced, thinking of them. After gazing calmly at the carriage for a while, Olivier rose abruptly, looking sleepier.
"With that weight off my mind, I'm even drowsier. I'm going in for a nap."
*
Emily locked the lady's room door firmly—warm afternoon sun slanting low—and stepped into the corridor. Seeing Olivier asleep with a peaceful expression had made her drowsy too, but tomorrow's holiday meant gifting her parents new clothes and enjoying meat dishes. Her wages had all gone to her mother Marie so far, but today she'd collect some from her.
Marie insisted even earned money shouldn't be squandered. Emily had begged for days. After prying into her spending plans, Marie agreed to hand it over before leaving work.
Emily descended to the first floor and met Marie in the storage room by the dining hall. Marie had changed from maid uniform to her usual drab gray dress, ready to leave.
"Emily, money's like water—once you start spending, it's gone. That's why Mama holds it. Save penny by penny while working, make a nest egg. Use it to help the house and save for your marriage. Got it?"
Seeing the frayed cuff of Marie's sleeve as she handed over the coin pouch, Emily decided to stop at the village shop tomorrow morning for new clothes on the way home.
"Yes, Mama. Just this once, I want to treat myself a bit. Have a nice meat dinner with Papa in the evening too."
"Alright, then. We'll do that. Mama's resting at home with you tomorrow too—Sarah was kind enough."
Marie hugged her lightly, said see you tomorrow morning, and left the overseer's quarters. Emily watched her mother's receding back from the side gate for servants a long while.
During her time as a maid here, the glimpses of her father remained healthy and kind; her mother seemed brighter and gentler than before. And Emily had escaped the detestable Mark, her appetite improved, she'd grown taller, her body changing.
Turning, she eyed the carriage parked in the corner of the side yard. Olivier's peaceful face came to mind. She too would find peace starting tomorrow.
Sharing a room had brought them closer, but Olivier's mood swings during her monthly cycles meant placating her all day—mentally exhausting. After tomorrow's fun, she'd rest in her own cozy space.
Feeling unburdened, Emily left the side gate and headed for the servants' stairs.