Feather & Blood

Chapter Ten

Joslyn watched Laurence in amazement as potatoes, carrots and squash floated in the air around him. All were sliced at once by an invisible knife and dropped into the cast iron pot boiling away in front of him. Of course he insisted she try not to help. She was his guest after all and it would be rude to have her cooking. She resisted, feeling nothing more than a freeloader there, but there was no way she could win against the grand mage himself. The cast iron lid lifted off the table and gently came down to rest on top of the pot.

"There. Now while that cooks, let's find you some better clothes," Laurence smiled softly.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't have anything that will fit me," Joslyn shook her head. "I'll just mend these if you can show me where you keep your needles."

He stared at her blankly, "I have no needles."

"Of course you don't," she closed her eyes in defeat.

"But don't be silly. Elle keeps some of her clothes here. You can wear hers," he insisted as he walked out of the kitchen. "Come have a look!"

She sighed and reluctantly followed him out, "I couldn't wear hers!"

"And why not?" he pushed, leading the way past dining towards the west wing. "She is not needing them right now. And seeing how she left them here, they're not even her favourites!"

"I would..." Joslyn trailed off. I would taint them, is what she wanted to say. That is certainly what they would've said back in her village. "I would dirty them."

Laurence paused in front of the bedroom door and turned back to Joslyn, "What are you talking about? Everyone dirties their clothes by wearing them. And they're doing nothing just sitting in her closet."

Laurence opened the door and pushed it open for Joslyn. She leaned over nervously to peek through the doorway. The bedroom was large and spacious, seemingly as big as the house she grew up in. In the middle of the room was a large, king-sized bed with an ornate wooden bedframe and the softest, most luxurious white linen on top. There were more pillows than she could count, which left her wondering what anyone does with so many pillows. To the side she saw a mahogany dresser and wardrobe.

"Take your time having a look. I will go draw you a bath in the meantime. The bathroom is just at the end of the hall," Laurence gestured broadly down the hall with his hand.

Joslyn shook her head in protest, "I can draw my own bath."

"Are you sure? I didn't think your village had plumbing," Laurence commented.

"I'll work it out!" she insisted.

Laurence sighed, "Joslyn, it's no trouble..."

"I'm not broken!" she yelled. "Stop trying to do everything for me! I can do things myself!"

"I didn't mean to imply you were," he frowned. "You are a guest in my home, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, then sure, by all means, draw your own bath."

Before Joslyn could say another word, Laurence turned and walked away, heading back towards the kitchen. Joslyn watched him leave, feeling a pain in her heart she couldn't explain. Feeling out of place, she stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, but it didn't help her. In that large bedroom with the finest linens and highest quality furniture, she felt even more out of place. How she wished for her tiny bedroom back in Hawthorne again, with its stone-cold floor and coarse woollen blankets. It didn't make any sense to her. Not when she spent years wishing for a better life. How could she possibly prefer that to this? Her eyes drifted to the wardrobe to the side, remembering that they held Elle's clothes. She wondered if they would smell like her too. Curious, she walked over and opened the door slowly, unsure what to expect inside. To her surprise five outfits hung in the wardrobe. Seeing them there on their own, they seemed so plain and ordinary. Were they really Elle's? She picked up the hanger of a green dress and brought it close to her face. She could just barely smell the faint smell of jasmine, the same scent Elle wore. She closed her eyes and imagined Elle standing in front of her as she was just two nights ago. The more she focused on the memory, the more she could see Elle wearing the green dress.