"May I get up now?" Lucy asks. "No, Little Mistress. Physician Liu prescribed a week of bed rest so your body may recover" Selena answers. "May I have a jar of linseed oil?" Lucy asks. "Ah, does Little Mistress want to start hair treatments?" Selena asks, handing Lucy a bowl of chicken soup. Lucy dips her spoon in it, and sighs. Are you trying to fatten me up for slaughter, or what? I wonder if the old woman in her gingerbread house will shove me into her oven.
"Do you have the patience to sit for hair treatments?" Selena asks, wrinkling her forehead. Lucy almost chokes on her spoon, a bit of broth escaping her lips. "Wha. . . " Lucy says. Whom you take me for? I can sit through Titanic without twitching, of course, some beauty treatments won't be able to break me. "May I just have the oil?" Lucy says, instead of blurting out her thoughts. I might have the patience; it's a waste of my time.
"If you desire," Selena says, a beat later. Aw! Your puzzled look is so cute! Times like this reminded Lucy that Selena was only 14 years old. An age of love, tests, and crushes. "Selena, will you marry?" Lucy asks. Selena never considered boys or marriage, but her age was near that age for this realm. Will her happiness be buried because of me? "Ah, of course. As your bondmaid, it's my duty to bear heirs so your children have their own soul-bound maids, and valets." Selena answers. "Whom will you marry?" Lucy asks. Does she have a betrothal?
Selena tucks her hands into her sleeves. "It's custom for a Mistress to choose who I will lay with upon your bridal night," Selena says. Lucy tilts her head. "Lay with?" Lucy asks mischievously. Selena coughs, red tinting her cheeks beneath her veil. "Yes, Little Mistress. I will follow your arrangements when you choose to have me bred, or choose a husband for me" Selena answers.
Lucy feels Selena's emotions slip through the bond. Nervousness, anticipation, hope, and a hint of longing. Lucy shakes her head. Woah, what heavy mix! Seems, she feels strongly about her marriage. "What type of man would you like to marry?" Lucy asks, then pauses a delicate frown forming. "What does breeding mean?" Lucy looks up at Selena. Surely not. . .
Selena's smile doesn't hint at her eagerness or nervousness. "If little mistress doesn't wish me to marry, it's your right to choose to send men to my bed until I fall pregnant," Selena explains. Not a hint of anger, fear, or disgust came from Selena. She felt only a hint of nervousness and disappointment at the thought.
That's. . . That's fucked up!
"No, I will choose a good husband for you" Lucy decides. This realm is so backward. Thankfully I was born as a young miss. Lucy shudders. Being unable to make even a simple choice would kill her. "Little Mistress, are you cold?" Selena asks. "I'll fetch a quilt," Selena says.
Lucy looks at her back, complex shadows in her eyes. Selena truly believes that it's only proper for me to be able to do that to her. She doesn't even feel uneasy. What if I turned out a spoiled, nasty brat? What if she went to a malicious, hateful child instead of me? How can Selena trust her fate to others so contently?
Lucy set her bowl aside, her throat tight. Such trust. Why does Selena trust me so?
"First Miss has arrived. Shall I bring her in, Third Miss?" A maid asks. First Sister? "Yes, bring her in," Lucy says, sliding off the day bed. I have to welcome her. I wonder how she's been doing. Her ceremony is soon, right?
The air vibrates; Selena's mental scent surrounding her again. "Little Mistress, lie down!" Selena orders. Lucy hesitates mid-step. "Be obedient!" Selena says, picking Lucy up and setting back on the bed. Selena covers her with the quilt and gives the maid a stern glance. "Third Miss is on bed rest. Go to the post, accept 15 lashes for your negligence."
"Ah! Selena, I was the one who got up. It's not her fault" Lucy hurriedly says. Selena just pats her head. "Don't fuss, Little Mistress. It's the proper punishment for endangering your health" Selena says. But… But it's really not her fault, ah!
Lucy bites her lip, as the maid just bows. "Yes, Miss Selena," she says respectfully. I just can't get used to this.