The Hents House

The Fire Arc

~
Word count: 3624
Note: this arc takes place mid-way through the book, and approximately three weeks after chapter five
Question: seriously what do you think of Dawson I'm curious
~

Shaking out my still damp hands from washing clothes, I dragged myself up the stairs, exhaustion creasing my brow. The past few nights had been sleepless, caught up in words and and snippets of conversation, of racing thoughts that kept me awake long after all the other girls had slipped peacefully into rest. The creak of the door opened and I froze, the sight Melle lacing up her boots, her hair hanging loose about her shoulders, give me enough reason to pause. I stood in the doorway to our room, eyebrows furrowed as I looked at her. "So you're going again? I thought you were done."

She didn't even bother to look up at me, just kept on lacing her boots. "Of course. Tonight's our last chance, and they'll be shipping out tomorrow once the daylight comes in."

I came into the room and sat on the edge of my bed, my eyes glancing past the still open door, to the hallway outside. The other girls would linger downstairs for a while more, finishing their afternoon tasks. Their absence gave us a small moment of strenuous privacy, until someone else decided to come up here just as I had.

"And you really expect him to come by the house and sweep you away? That he'll actually dedicate enough to you to make your his wife?" I swirled my finger along the bedspread, listening to Melle move about the room.

"Course not." Her voice was terse as she replied. "But I might as well get another night out of him." There were no sounds following this statement. Melle had gone completely silent.

I looked up and saw her whole body shaking. Sliding off the bed I walked up to Melle and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. "I guess," she hiccupped, digging her fingertips into my dress. "I guess I figured out he didn't mean any of his promises about a week ago. If he had actually wanted me, or loved me, he could have just came in and married me. We could been together at any time, because that's what we're supposed to do. We're supposed to become their doting, obedient little wives. And instead he decided it would be easier to pay almost triple just to have me for four nights."

I rubbed at her back, trying to instill what little comfort I could offer her. "I'm sorry," I whispered, struggling to find more words, something meaningful to give her. But what more could I say in this moment? What little knowledge did I have, in my lesser years, thar Melle wouldn't already possess. "I'm so sorry."

She hung there against me, sobbing, her whole body shaking from the weight of all her grief, and I held her.

When Melle had finally spent her tears, she leaned away from my hold, swiping at the wetness that still lingered on her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she murmured, eyes downcast. "That was unseemly."

I rubbed her shoulder, searching for something, anything to say. Finally, I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm always here."

She looked up at me, eyes puffy and red but at least she was smiling. "I know," she sighed. "You'll always be here and I'll always be here and we will both always be here. Just… stuck here." Melle took a deep breath and straightened herself. "I'll be going now. Don't bother lying to the other girls about where I am tonight. I'll tell Mam Dorce when I come back, anyways."

And with that, she left me, standing alone in our room. The candle in the windowsill flickered lazily, shining in the glass of the window and throwing my reflection back at me. I turned away, heart in my throat as I sat on my bed.

Was she right? Would I always be stuck here, in this house, on this moon? Would I turn out like Kidget, with such a sad, regretful air about me? She had been here for years and years, and one did not become the Eldest through a mere passage of rank. She would have had to have been here for years, watching men pass her by only to choose the others in the room, every time.