Act 2 Chapter 94
JAYLAH
Jaylah's gaze followed the temporarily dismissed servant overseer as he waltzed to the base of her throne. His face was still colored in a sickly pallor from the poison, but he was out of bed and fully functional faster than she expected.
"You may speak," she said as he lowered his head in a bow. The bald circle on the crown of his head shone.
"As you may have heard, Your Majesty, I was struck by a sudden illness not long ago that prevented me from doing my job. I presume a temporary overseer was put in my place. I stand here before you to humbly request that I am reinstated, as I have been nursed back to full health."
"How lucky." Jaylah's gaze was only on Antinoch, who had escorted the overseer into the room. She was professional enough to never show anything on her face, but Jaylah saw her white knuckles. The way her eyes refused to meet the older man's. As Jaylah's personal aide, Antinoch normally held her high rank with an air of cool self-assurance, but she now looked as though she was the overseer's subordinate. And she was not.
"Please leave the room," Jaylah told him. "I must deliberate."
Disgruntled, the overseer stepped outside with the two soldiers guarding the door. Jaylah swung one leg over the other, leaning back in her throne. "What did he do to you?"
"Oh." Antinoch actually seemed to be at a loss for words. "I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty. I have never had a problem with Mr. Petreas before."
Jaylah tilted her head with incredulity. "Antinoch. You may tell me."
Antinoch was quiet for a long time, not meeting Jaylah's stare. "There was a time in which I did not smile enough when serving a diplomat from Etharia. Mr. Petreas told me I exhibited a 'sullen mood,' though I swear it was not my intention. When I told him as much, he backhanded me across the face. It was only once in all my years of living under his leadership."
Her lips tightened meaningfully, as though physically restraining the words from gushing forth. "There is more," Jaylah realized.
"When I first came to live in the palace at fourteen, the other girls warned me to pull my uniform skirt all the way down, because Mr. Petreas always said, 'I am running a palace, not a brothel.' There were times when...when I came down after a long day of work and my uniform must have been askew. Mr. Petreas then...brushed against me in an inappropriate way. I suppose it was his form of teaching me not to do it again." She shook her head, a hand to her temple. "It only happened a few times when I was younger. I became more professional. And I know it's not bad compared with assaults other women in the world have suffered—"
"Has anyone reported Petreas for this behavior?"
"I tried. The other girls told me it was no use, but I wanted justice. I brought it to his superior...your father. Nothing came of my complaint."
Jaylah's blood boiled. Of course her father had not done anything, because he did not care. Likely he saw nothing wrong with the situation, just a powerful man keeping his subordinates in line. Cruel men protected cruel men so that their own oppressive actions would never be questioned.
"I assume you and the other servants would be more comfortable with a female overseer."
Antinoch gave a nod.
"Then it will be done. And whatever justice you wish to be bestowed on Petreas will be carried out."
Antinoch's shoulders barely jolted back in surprise; that had not been what she had expected Jaylah to say. Was Antinoch's opinion of her so low that she thought Jaylah would ignore her too?
"I...I want him gone." Antinoch held her chin higher. "I want him so disgraced that he will never be put in another situation of power."
The overseer was permitted back into the throne room, his face eager. He fully expected to have his job back, and was doing a terrible job of masking his false assurance.
"You are through here," Jaylah said. "Please pack your things and leave."
"W...what?" Petreas's dark eyes bounced between Jaylah and Antinoch as if he did not understand a joke.
Antinoch's gaze was flat. "You heard her."
Petreas looked back to Jaylah, mouth parted. She saw the struggle in him, the desire to fight against her decision but the certainty that he could not. It was an odd realization that the only thing keeping him from doing to her what he had done to Antinoch was the crown on her head. He hated her, she could tell. Having someone hate her yet having to submit to her was a rush of power that startled Jaylah. She would much rather it be an isolating thing than a beneficial one.
As he turned to leave, still stunned, Jaylah smiled kindly at him. She was becoming her mother's daughter after all.
♕ ♕ ♕ ♕ ♕
"It's too loose at her waist. Cinch it in."
"But then the chest will be too tight."
"Sacrifices must be made for beauty," Jaylah said as her mother would have. Still, a breath was knocked from her as the dressmakers cinched her waist in tighter. Her stomach felt as if it was pressed against her spine.
The two women continued to flit around her as she stood on the pedestal, making adjustments, pinning the thin layers of silky fabric. Their hands worked softly against her, deathly terrified of sticking her with a pin. Of doing anything she would not agree wholeheartedly with.
At last, they were done. "Let her see herself," Klymene said from the side. She and Saria, who was there to help dress and undress Jaylah, had awe shining in their eyes. A warm sensation that Jaylah was not accustomed to filled the base of her chest.
The dressmakers stood back, allowing Jaylah to walk carefully to the looking-glass on the wall. She was sure not to trod on any of the fabric trailing behind. And when she took herself in... She held her chin high. She may hardly be able to breathe thanks to the integration of the cinched corset, courtesy of the latest Paragonian fashion, but she was a sight to behold.
The white skirt was unfinished, as were the sleeves, but she knew this was the legendary wedding dress she desired. People would speak about its delicate train for weeks afterward. She straightened. The corset did make her cleavage look particularly appealing, as did the cinched waist for the curves of her hips.
And then...her gaze dropped to her stomach, made inhumanly small by the cut of the dress. It would never be that tiny again. This dress would be her transition from a Queen to a prospective mother.
Though she always knew it would be expected of her, something in the pit of her stomach felt heavy and sick. Ever since she was a child, she idolized her father. The way he was not weighed down by the things her mother was. The way he was free to do whatever he wished, and it was granted to him because everyone thought he deserved it. She wanted to have that power. Alone. He had not shared it with her mother, so why should she have to share it with her husband?
Adrik would dim her greatness. It was the rational truth, and yet she had never dwelled on it before. He would take her power from her and give her none in return, because although she outranked him in every way, she was still a woman. She was the one with a womb, the one expected to give up her dreams, her authority, her body, her life.
Jaylah did not even know if she even wanted children. But it was not her choice to make.
"Oh, Jaylah, you look beautiful," Klymene breathed, coming up behind her in the looking-glass. Even her beauty was overshadowed by the dress. "Your mother would be so proud."
Jaylah smiled a bit at that, though her face felt like wax rather than skin. Was that not what she had been striving to hear?
"Look at you." Klymene fluffed the side of her skirt out a bit as if she could not believe her eyes. "This dress alone will solidify you in Oceanic gossip, not to mention your hair and cosmetics. In this dress, you will get the Czarevich to do whatever you desire."
Whatever you desire... That did not sound like her normal type of manipulation. It sounded like a marriage that was a cage, a marriage that would weaken her and force her to do things she explicitly did not want to do. She did not want to be weakened by a man that was not worth what she was. Trapped animals were also the most vicious.
That helpless pit in her stomach opened into an abyss of writhing, raging desperation. This was how she felt just before she did something wrong. Something insane. Before she nearly stabbed Zensa, before she killed that kind man Pierre, before she incinerated the harbor in the City of Luck. There was a terrible fire within Jaylah that was always begging to be let out, to rid her of thoughts and simply devour. Her hands were shaking. She could not inhale enough air.
This marriage was going to turn Jaylah into a monster.
"Loosen the corset," one of the dressmakers was commanding, her voice swimming in Jaylah's ears. Or was that Klymene? Everything was foggy and unclear. "She'll be fine, just loosen the corset."
Jaylah was going to explode. She had always contained too much inside her body, pushed too much down to be ignored. One day, with the right spark, she was going to burn down the world.
The dressmakers were struggling with the laces, but it barely registered. Can you feel the wrongness in me? she wanted to scream. I just wanted to have everything I desired all at once. Is that such an awful thing?
Her mother would not have done this. With a single chilling thought, it occurred to her that this was her father's teachings taken root in her mind. A good Queen was not desperate or unbalanced. A good Queen was calm and dignified. She did what was best for her people.
A strange tranquility passed through Jaylah's body. Her thoughts stopped racing and became singleminded once more. She exhaled. She was doing this for her people.
"Do not loosen the corset," she said, her heart rate still slowing. "The fitting will commence."
Klymene fixed dark eyes on her for a second too long for Jaylah to believe she was fooled. Still, she nodded.
Saria's thin brows knit together. "Your Majesty, are you sure you are alright?"
"Yes." Jaylah's spine was straight as she fixed a rumple in the skirts. "And I will be even more so after I am crowned. I never should have waited so long." She had decided to be crowned a bit after the commotion about her engagement had died down, but now she feared it had only added to her stress.
"It would be no issue. I could get you a glass of water, or..."
"Thank you, Saria." One breath. In the nose, out her parted lips. "But I am perfectly alright."