Parisa sat hunched over a blank piece of parchment. A pencil lies beside it and her eyes dart between the utensil and the paper. Ever since she'd spoken in the eastern language a few days ago, a curiosity had been nibbling away at the back of her mind. Would she be able to write in it, too?
She hadn't dared attempt to for two reasons. One, if anyone other than the two lords were to see it, she wasn't sure how'd she'd explain it away. Perhaps Cordelia and Xavier wouldn't be too difficult, but if anyone else did, Goddess knows what would happen. The second was, what if she couldn't? There was a type of disappointment that would sit heavily in her if it turned out she wasn't able to.
Parisa picked up the pencil and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. The voice had been gone for the past day and her dreams had been memory free. The girl wasn't sure if that was good or bad, though part of her did miss seeing the life of Su-ho. It was blissfully simple, and, after what the voice had said about answers becoming clear when she remembered everything, Parisa thought it might be a good idea to start writing the memories down. Perhaps she could piece things together and figure out why she was having memories and why the voice in her mind even existed.
More than once, Parisa figured she was just an oddity or insane. As time marched on, though, and she neither grew more mad nor did the voice vanish, that fear weaned and a new question emerged. What if there was a specific reason she was remembering? The girl never thought herself special in any sense of the word. She was born to a poor family in a small village on the outskirts of her kingdom near a war ravaged border. Her parents hadn't cared for her and her body was probably more tainted than a brothel whore, not that she'd ever met one, but at least they saw the wages they pulled in with their body.
She had nothing to her name. Up until a couple of weeks ago, she couldn't even read or write. Parisa thought it almost laughable that something like this would make her special, and yet…
She placed the tip of the pencil on the parchment and bit down on her bottom lip. She'd struggled to write in the common tongue. Would this be the same?
Parisa thought about her first memory she had of Su-ho: waking up in a bedroom to the call of a lovely feminine voice that had belonged to her mother. There was the smell of breakfast cooking, such heavenly scents.
Before she knew it, she'd had five sentences written about the memory, all in the eastern language. The handwriting wasn't the best, but it was legible and it was hers. Parisa choked on a sound that was between a laugh and a sob. She covered her mouth with her hands as she stared at the words. This made everything so much more real. She could write of being able to read as simply strange. The speaking could have been a fluke from all the reading. Somehow, though, these words and the memory that they told held meaning. They were the proof that Parisa never knew she needed. It grounded her in a way that she had never felt before.
Parisa picked the pencil back up and continued writing until the entire piece of parchment, front and back, was filled with her words and memories as Su-ho. She grabbed for another and filled that one, too. Five pieces later, all covered in her writing, she finally set the pencil down and slumped in her chair as if it took all her strength to write.
Parisa stared at her words before looking out the window at the darkened world beyond. The sun had long since set. She'd had her dinner about an hour before she'd started writing and, while she didn't know how much time had passed, it was enough that her stomach grumbled. Parisa frowned and stood, flinching at the pain from her feet. She'd been walking more the past few days, and the pain had grown more and more dull. Her feet were finally healing. She made her way over to the pitcher beside her bed, hoping water might stave off the hunger until the morning. Only, the pitcher was empty, and she pursed her lips at the sight.
- Cordelia must have forgotten about it.
Parisa tossed a look towards the door and a brilliantly mad idea flitted through her mind. She thought it simply from the adrenaline that had coursed through her veins after writing so much, but maybe she could find something to snack on in the kitchen. Of course, the idea was insane. If anyone caught her, there wasn't a doubt in her mind the punishment would be far worse than the previous. Worse, it wouldn't work if there was a guard at her door and Parisa had no plans to go through her window again. Not with her feet in the state they were in. The cold might help with swelling, but she didn't want the dampness to bring infection. Cordelia was always attentive to make sure her feet were warm, dry, and well taken care of since the punishment, paying extra attention to them after her baths.
The girl made her way to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. She held her breath as she listened for any type of sound. This wasn't Xavier's shift. She'd memorized his.
No sound came from beyond and she opened the door, peeking through the sliver and finding the hallway empty. She looked both ways before slipping into the hallway, her heart thudding in her ears. Her chest rose and fell as a smile born of anxiety and adrenaline twisted her lips. Before she could second guess herself, she made for the kitchen, find the hallways dark and abandoned. Moonlight streamed through the windows, making the snow outside appear as a silver river.
She made it to the kitchen without trouble and tiptoed into the darkened space. Her eyes had already adapted to the low lighting, and she found it easy enough to navigate around the space. She had a craving for bread and warm milk with honey, something that Cordelia had brought her the first few days she'd come to the estate. The bread, milk, and honey were easy enough to find, but Parisa had no idea how to heat up the milk and honey. She'd never worked a stove before. Her eyes moved over the surface and she set her milk on one of the spots she'd seen the chefs use for cooking.
"How hard can it be?" she wondered as she looked around for how to light it. As she was looking under a counter, a stifled laugh came from behind her. The girl froze at the sound, her stomach sinking as the approaching footsteps grew louder.
- I'm going to be whipped. They'll break my hands or cut off my fingers. The baroness will torture me and toss me out in the snow with nothing, maybe not even clothes.
She wondered if she could salvage this. Maybe if it were a simple maid, she could beg for forgiveness. If she was lucky, they wouldn't tell on her. She knew most of the maids thought themselves better than her. If she lowered herself, it might appeal to that part of them. Parisa nodded at her plan, her body already trembling at the thought of what awaited her.
"I-I apologize," she said, her voice trembling with her body. She turned, ignoring the pain that flared to life in her feet at the sudden movement. Her forehead hit the hard floor. "Please don't tell the baroness. I-I'll do anything. Please overlook this just this once."
The footsteps halted, and she squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the tears that threatened to be unleashed. The person didn't respond and, with every second that passed of continued silence, she knew her fate was sealed.
"I was only thirsty," she tried to plead her case, but promptly shut her mouth when the footsteps grew closer. She flinched when they passed by her body and stopped at the stove behind her.
"Were you trying to warm milk?" A deep and calm voice asked. She recognized that voice, had heard it twice now. Parisa lifted her head and dared to peek behind her, though the curtain of silver hair.
Lord Alexei stood over the stove, getting a flame started. He moved around the kitchen with an elegance that shook her core. He grabbed some sort of pot and poured milk into it before placing it over the flame. She stayed still on the floor the entire time until his grey eyes landed on her. He cocked his head to the side.
"Do you intend to drink your milk there, too?" The question ignited flames under her skin and she scrambled to stand, gripping her hands into her nightgown. This was worse than she could have thought. If lord Alexei, the baron's esteemed guest, made a complaint, surely she would be killed.
"I apologize, my lord, for this unseemly sight." she tripped over her words, unable to stop her shaking body.
"You can take a seat at the table there in the corner." he said, and she shook her head.
"I need to return to my room."
Alexei's face gave nothing away until there, for just a moment, Parisa thought she saw the hint of a grin before he turned back towards the heating milk.
"It would be a shame to let this go to waist." was all he said. Parisa moved to the table and took a seat. Silence rang between them and Parisa's thoughts turned over, one after another. Was this a set-up to get her into more trouble? Was he sincere in his current actions? What was he thinking?
She peeked at him, though his back was still to her. She pressed her lips into a tight line and hunched her shoulders.
"Here," he said, his voice soft. Parisa jerked. She hadn't heard him move in the least. Her eyes looked from him to the mug of steaming milk that now sat in front of her. There was also bread, already sliced on a wooden board. "I added honey to it, since I saw it out." Alexei slid into the chair opposite her, his eyes never wavering from her face. Meanwhile, she couldn't pull her gaze from the mug. Her hands were still curled into her nightgown. "I won't tell anyone."
Parisa lifted her eyes to lord Alexei, grey clashing with dark brown. There was something unsettlingly familiar about them. She frowned. "Why?"
- Does he want something?
Her cheeks heated more. Maybe he did, and that thought alone brought a crashing wave of disappointment. Some part of her had thought the lord better.
- All men are the same.
"I don't see what business it is of theirs." The answer was so simple. She gulped.
"Y-you don't want anything?" her voice was small as she asked and she braced herself when he opened his mouth to answer.
"Hmm," he hummed. The lord picked up a slice of bread, studying it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. His eyes flicked back to Parisa's, and the smile came back. Her heart stuttered in her chest. "Some light conversation would be nice."
Her mouth hung open at the response. Conversation? That's it? She couldn't believe it, but she wanted to. She wanted to so badly that she uncurled her fingers, the nightgown long since wrinkled, and cupped the warm sides of the mug. Parisa didn't have to look to know the lord's smile had grown.
"What would you like to talk about, my lord?" she asked before taking a small sip of the honey milk. Her muscles instantly loosened, and she relaxed into the chair.
"Why are you awake so late?"
Parisa met his gaze as she answered. "I was hungry and the water pitcher in my room was empty." she studied his features and the open way he sat in his seat, his muscles loose. The air around him was welcoming and laid back. She dared to ask, "And you, my lord?"
Alexei finished off his slice of bread and grabbed another. "My days are rather noisy, filled with endless interactions and conversations. I wanted some quiet and alone time."
Parisa couldn't help it. She lifted a brow. "And you want light conversation now?"
The response amused lord Alexei. She could see it in the twinkle of his grey eyes. Her lower stomach clenched, and she had to look away.
"This conversation is different." he said and left it at that. She didn't see how it was any different. Conversation was still conversation, but she didn't press him on the matter. Instead, she reached for a slice of the bread. Silence wrapped around them as she nibbled on her slice. Once gone, the food and honey milk combination must have increased her courage because she asked,
"What brings you to the Astri estate, my lord?"
Alexei seemed momentarily taken aback at her question, as if he hadn't expected her to speak up at all unless he was the one who spoke. He collected himself fast enough.
"I'm here to check-up on the Astri family and make sure they're doing well."
Parisa's brows pulled together. She didn't know why anyone would need to make sure this family is doing well. They were ripe with wealth and extravagance. The lord seemed to have read the confusion and thought clearly on her face. He chuckled.
"I must say, though, I'm not partial for the cold." he said, his gaze shifting to the windows behind her. She turned and looked out of them, her eyes greeted by the beauty of the snow.
"Do you like the snow?" she asked, looking back at him. His eyes were still on the windows, though he didn't seem like he was at all present in the moment.
"The snow is gorgeous." he said. "It's the cold that doesn't agree with me. I much prefer warmer climates."
"I agree." Parisa said before she could think. Alexei focused on her, a brow raised.
"Have you done much traveling?"
She shook her head. "But I've lived in the cold for so long, I think it would be nice to not have to worry about it for a change."
Lord Alexei didn't seem to have a response to that and silence settled over them once again. She glanced at him, only to find his eyes focused on the window once more. She let him have that silence, not in the least put off by it. Rather, it was comforting being in the presence of someone without needing anything else. It was much like when she sat with Cordelia in her room. So, Parisa relaxed, drank her honey milk, and watched the beauty of the snow beyond the window with the lord.