I never did find evidence that Ceseth had poisoned me somehow. I never could pinpoint the blame on him. I never stopped suspecting he'd done it, of course, because I was absolutely certain that he had—but I had never found any concrete proof that he had been trying to end my pregnancy. But still, everything fell into place. Ebenezer wouldn't take me, so Ceseth would have been stuck with a pregnant woman for nine months. It was no secret that that was the last thing he would have wanted. What better way to get rid of the problem other than aborting it?
I still felt unclean from the whole event, even a year later. The year had gone by much faster than anticipated. I buried myself in my work, training harder and longer than I'd trained in all of my seventeen years of existence. And I found I hated much easier now. Ceseth remained the sole object of my utmost hatred, and I made that very clear, but he also made clear to me that he couldn't care less about whether or not I hated him. It was life: a vicious cycle of blood and hatred.
I found myself killing easier now, as well. After Sol, killing had never truly been hard for me. I found it easy—it was almost a good thing to me now. And whereas once that thought would have horrified me, now I was simply numb to it. I didn't mind killing. What was the big deal?
I became the monster Ceseth wanted me to be.
He beat me less, and gave me a bigger percentage of the money every time I did a good job.
I was acquiring quite the fortune. Perhaps it would even rival Ebenezer's.
I found myself thinking of Ebenezer and Amirah often. Somehow, they'd become wildly popular in noble circles. They were known as an exotic and thrilling couple to be around. It was said that their parties were the most extravagant of all, and no one ever missed one of them—if you were invited, that is. It seemed Ebenezer and Amirah were invited to every party, but only the crème de la crème were invited to their parties. It was an exclusive society that Ebenezer practically dictated now. I had heard that Amirah was little more than an accessory always hanging on his arm, but I had also heard that many men were gawking over Ebenezer's older wife. There were plenty of rumours on how he had gotten her, but I never looked much into those. I couldn't bring myself to.
Ceseth himself had been invited to a handful of those parties, having been hired by Ebenezer a few more times to do his dirty work. Unsurprisingly, Ebenezer had never once asked about me or requested I join Ceseth on one of the jobs. Amirah, on the other hand, had tried to contact me frequently. Much to Ceseth's dismay, Amirah had found his address and sent dozens of letters to me every month. Each one remained unopened, and each one was now nothing but embers. As time had gone on, Amirah had sent less and less letters to me. Now, she only sent me one letter a month. Even though that trend had been going on for months now, it seemed she would never stop sending me letters. This gradual decrease of letters was the best I would get.
But there was one letter that I hadn't been expecting.
It had been unmarked by the sender, but the flowing script had told me who it was. It hadn't been address to me alone. Ceseth's name appeared on the letter (once again as "Anais," and I wondered if Ceseth had formally adopted that nobleman persona) right next to mine (as "Liliana," but Amirah had always signed my letters as such). And it hadn't been a simple letter, either. It was an invitation. An invitation to one of their flawless and grandiose parties. I wanted to kill her for the audacity she had to invite me. Ceseth? I could care less. Ceseth could go wherever he wanted and whenever he wanted. But everyone knew where every invitation to Ebenezer Ashdown's parties went. The Ashdown parties were never scorned. I couldn't reject the invitation, not only because everyone would know about it, but because Ceseth was also on the invitation. If I had been formally invited, such as it was, even if I wouldn't have been publicly scorched for not attending, Ceseth would have made me attend anyway.
I had been backed into a corner, and it made me want to kill her.
It was a familiar emotion, now, but one I rarely acted on without necessity. I had never once responded to Amirah's letters, and I couldn't help but speculate that this forced attendance was her way of getting me to talk with her. I couldn't figure out what on earth was so important that she'd play this hand, but in the back of my head I made a mental note to be as unpleasant to Amirah Ashdown as possible. Maybe then she would get the message.
I hated her.
And the next time she called upon me to do something like this, I might not be so hesitant to kill her.
-
As I expected, Ceseth made it clear to me that I had no option but to attend. And so, Ceseth had handed me a large pouch of cash and forced me to go buy a gown—something I was completely unaccustomed to. I figured if I was going to go, I might as well try and make myself look good. But what were the latest fashions? How did the women wear their hair—up, or down? Did women wear short sleeves on their dresses, or long ones? Was the popular color light or dark? Did a different color symbolize a different thing? If I was unmarried, was I expected to dress and act differently than a married woman? If I wanted people to leave her alone, what color should I wear? But if I wanted people to leave me alone but not judge me, then what color did I wear?
There were too many questions for me to comprehend all at once. I hated Ceseth for throwing me into a situation I was so horribly unfamiliar with. But some of my questions were answered as I perused the different available dress shops. I noted that many of the dresses were rich gem-oriented colors—colors like vivid emerald greens, dark sapphire blues, various pastel opals (though there weren't many of those), and vibrant ruby reds. It seemed flashy colors were the most common and the most fashionable. None of which I would look terribly fashionable in.
But the very last dress shop I went to was totally different than the others I had been to.
The dresses in the shop were all relatively muted colors, ranging from mulberry to black.
It was definitely more like me. And though I didn't want to go dress shopping, my options were limited and my time was short. There were (probably) plenty other dress shops in the nearby towns, but I wasn't about to leave this town for a dress I'd only wear once. The other shops had been relatively useless. But as I made my way into this shop, I found myself smiling. Smiling. The dress shop was exotic. It was filled with dresses that I thought would put all the other shops' dresses to shame. And I was pleased to find that one dress immediately caught my eye.
I moved towards the black dress that hung on the mannequin. It looked figure-hugging and was obviously made for a woman of small stature without much of a figure to begin with. It was relatively plain, made of a simple black fabric with a sheer black veil that started at the hips and hung around the skirt. The top of the dress was embroidered with light grey patterns. It was minimalistic, but beautiful. I looked around the shop for the owner and frowned when I came up empty. The whole shop appeared to be almost abandoned. There was a tag with numbers that rested atop the shoulder of the mannequin (the dress itself had no sleeves). The price made me cringe.
"Hello?" I called to the seemingly empty shop. When there was no response, I deflated. Of course the one dress I would like to have would be in an empty shop. I considered stealing it, but thought better of it when I imagined myself trying to "secretively" haul a multilayered dress out of a shop. It would be a little less than inconspicuous.
"Helloo?" I repeated, making my way to the back of the shop. "I'd like to buy the dress out front? Is anyone here?"
I sighed and folded my arms crossly as I made my way back to the front of the shop again. As I reached for the handle, the door swung open and in came an elderly woman carrying bags of what looked to be groceries. She didn't seem at all startled by my presence.
"Oh, hello, dearie," she said, waving me aside. I almost reached for a bag, but she'd already bustled by me. "You here for a dress? You don't look like the dressy type."
I stood and stared at her for a moment. "Um... no—I mean, yes, I'm here for a dress, but—" I shook my head. "Never mind. Yes, I'm here for a dress. I'd like that black one."
The old woman dropped her bags on a low table and turned to see where I was pointing. She tutted and shook her head.
"No, you've got too much going on up top for you to wear that dress, it would be too tight across the chest," the woman said. I looked at my chest. There wasn't a lot there to begin with. Why would she say there was too much?
"Well, you could let me try it on. It looks like it fits—"
"No, no, no! Heavens no. No. It would look horrid. I promise. I know these things," she winked at me and hurried across the shop. On the other side of the room a dark raspberry dress was displayed on a mannequin, and the elder quickly set about pulling it off. This dress was even less busy than the first. It held no decorations of any type and instead fell straight to the floor. There wasn't even minimal flourishes like the veil around the skirt. I couldn't say I liked it as much.
"Try this one," she said, coming to me and handing the dress over. I took it, as she gave me little choice, and then allowed myself to be herded back to the back of the shop, where she shoved me into a box-like room and drew a curtain. "Call me if you need me, dear. I'll be out front."
I didn't started changing until I heard her footsteps fade. I changed quickly, in the hopes she wouldn't return before I had finished getting dressed. A very small mirror as in the middle of the wall, hardly enough to show me a third of the dress. It wasn't the one that I wanted, but I decided I'd settle for it.
After all, I had a long history of not getting what I wanted.
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