Season notes: traumatized people people triggering each other, abuse, torture, fictional slavery, con noncon*, (attempted) blackmail
Parlen found Mattin laying out Jahlene’s clothing for the day. “Your sister is awake. She’d like to see you.”
Mattin dropped the elaborate overdress and started for the door before Parlen finished speaking. He froze, cursed, and turned back to pick up the dress. He was giving the dress a half-hearted check for damage when Parlen scooped it out of his hands. “Go. I know how to handle Court clothing.” She shook out the overdress and laid it across the bed.
Mattin didn’t wait. He rushed out of the room, not wanting Marta to be alone for an instant longer than necessary.
But when he reached the door to the other bedroom, he froze. His hand shook as he tried to make himself grasp the handle. From inside, he heard the sounds of… giggling? That broke his paralysis, and he burst into the room.
Marta jumped up and jammed her hands into her mouth. She stared at him as if she didn’t recognize him. Mattin walked towards her, “Marta, it’s me. You’re safe.” His heart broke as she cringed away from him. He stopped out of reach, and she slowly relaxed.
“Mattin?” Her voice wavered as she reached towards him. “Is it really you? I thought I was dreaming. But I’m not waking up.”
“Not a dream, sister,” he said. This time she let him hug her. She shivered as he held her. “I’m sorry it took so long, but you’re free like I promised.”
“Free…” Her whole body shook as she clung to him. There was something… but he pushed it aside. No, even if she had been laughing, what of it? Her reactions didn’t need to make sense to him.
She shifted her arms and he felt her hand brush against his collar. She jerked her head up and flinched away. “Oh no!”
“Marta–”
Marta reached one trembling hand towards his neck. “Mattin… Oh God, Mattin…”
The honest grief on her face had him clutching her hands and struggling for some way to reassure her. “It’s… It’s not… Marta, I would’ve done anything—anything at all—to get you away from him. I would’ve traded places with you in an instant. But Jahlene… She’s different. Please, Marta, it’s not what you think.”
“How—you shouldn’t have done it. God, Mattin. How can I live with myself, knowing you did this?” Her eyes filled and she covered her face.
Mattin didn’t know what to do. He tried to hug her again, but she pulled away.
“Why, Mattin? Why couldn’t you have stayed safe? I would have… would have been alright…”
“Marta, how could I? Jahlene isn’t like Oeloff! I promise. And I’m happy you are free.”
Marta said nothing, but she held him tightly until he returned to his duties. The look of resigned pain on her face followed him throughout the night.
Parlen didn’t know how long she had served Lady Erebeth. From the day Erebeth claimed her until the day Erebeth brought her to Jahlene, she had not been outside, had seen the sky and sun only through windows. One day followed another with no promise of change or surcease.
In a twisted way, Parlen owed a great deal to Lady Erebeth. Her former mistress had been the first to recognize that Parlen was a woman, some trick of glamour giving her insight into Parlen’s feelings and reactions. Of course, being a traditional fae, she had used the knowledge to torment Parlen, but she never questioned it.
Sometimes, when she checked on Marta, Parlen thought she saw some of the conflicted feelings Parlen herself remembered. The hatred of the fae who tortured her, of course, but also the regret, the longing, that things might have been different. The wish that the person who had changed her life had been worth the loyalty Parlen would have offered.
Parlen took to spending some time each day with Marta, especially while Mattin was out of the suite.
Marta opened up to Parlen, more, Parlen thought, than she had to Mattin. Which made sense, in a way. For all Mattin had lived under Oeloff, he had never known was it was like to be forcibly claimed. Especially claimed by one of the… traditional fae. Like Parlen herself, Marta had few visible scars, but Parlen knew how little that could mean.
So Parlen did her best to support Marta and reassure her. She told stories of life at the manor, some lighter tales of what Mattin had been doing the last few months, and some of her own history.
Marta told her little, but Parlen hadn’t expected it. But after a few days, Marta was up and out of bed. Insisting she would earn her keep, she began assisting Berta with little tasks around the suite.
Reassured that Marta was recovering, both Mattin and Parlen stopped hovering as much. But Parlen still spent time each day with Marta when she could. Sometimes, when Mattin and Jahlene were out, they’d end up sitting next to each other quietly holding hands.
Jahlene didn’t meet with Marta that day or the next. The fear she tasted from the girl every time she approached nearly overwhelmed her. Better, she decided, to leave the matter in Mattin and Parlen’s hands. They would tell her anything she needed to know. She could get to know the girl once they got home and Marta had a chance to get comfortable.
Marta’s rescue and pruning back Oeloff’s overreach had been Jahlene’s biggest goal of the court season, but far from the only one.
Each day Mattin accompanied her back into the political quagmire that was the fae court at its finest. Unless something changed, Mattin would never return to the court, reassigned to a household position when they got home. So he would do his best for Jahlene now, helping her in every way he could.
Mattin’s bargain with Jahlene had been fulfilled, but his service to her had only begun.
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