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Season notes: violence, death, attempted murder
The morning after their return, Jahlene met with Marta. She hadn’t wanted to push the girl, who was still recovering from her experiences in Oeloff’s household, but Marta continued to avoid her. Jahlene couldn’t allow her to remain in the manor without some understanding between them. She was tempted to send Mattin away during the discussion but didn’t want to appear as if she distrusted him.
She had come close—so very close—to sending him away the day before, reassigning him to the kitchen or maybe the stables. But as much as his fear hurt, she would miss his presence, and he was too valuable an assistant to set aside lightly. She never expected his surge of relief when she confirmed Brit’s arrangements. Apparently, and in spite of his fear, he still wanted to keep things as they were. If she kept some distance between them, gave him more space than had been possible at court, might he overcome his fears?
Well, that was the future. The present was the young human standing before Jahlene and radiating fear and defiance so strongly it hurt to look at her.
“Marta Brensdaughter. I understand your fear, and I’ve done my best to give you space these past weeks.”
The girl ducked her head. “I know, Lady.” She twisted her hands before her until her knuckles were white. “I am sorry if I have…”
Jahlene waved the half-hearted apology away. “I’m not offended. If you weren’t afraid after what you have been through, I’d question your sanity. Understandable or not, we need to discuss your place in my household.”
After biting her lip, Marta finally looked Jahlene in the eye. “I… believed I was no part of your household, Lady.”
Jahlene snorted. “You are not my slave, Marta, and I have no intention of offering you my collar. But you are staying in my household—unless you plan to depart this morning? Your father has relocated to a nearby town.” Mattin’s emotions took on an unhealthy flavor at the mention of his father. It was like he threw up a mental wall. She’d need to look into it later. “I am sure he would be pleased to welcome you home.”
Marta flushed, a color nearly as brilliant as Mattin used to display. “No, Lady,” Marta said, “I… I have no wish to leave my brother.”
“And no reason to believe he is safe in my care.”
Jahlene heard Mattin’s gasp, but it was the glitter in the girl’s eyes that made her catch her breath. Thank Dannu, the girl still had some life in her.
“No, Lady.” What might have been a simple acknowledgment came out as a challenge.
“After all he’s done for you, I’d be disappointed if you felt otherwise. But this is my household, and Mattin does wear my collar. That is the choice he made, not once, but twice.”
“Twice?” the girl’s eyes widened and darted to where Mattin stood behind Jahlene’s shoulder. His emotions spiked, a confusing mix of pride and shame. Jahlene had neither the knowledge nor the time to tease out their meaning.
“You may remain here for as long as you’d like. As a guest or, when you recover, my housekeeper might hire you to assist her when she needs an extra pair of hands.”
“Thank you, Lady.”
Jahlene leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk and staring into the girl’s eyes. “But if you interfere with my household in any way, that welcome will be withdrawn.”
Marta paled and dropped her eyes. Her hands fisted in her skirts. “Yes, Lady. I understand.”
“Good.” Jahlene stood. “I don’t mean to be an ogre, child, but I realize you are less than pleased with Mattin’s place here.”
“When Lord Oeloff claimed me, my brother would have killed himself before he served a fae.” The words were quiet but filled with conviction. “I don’t know what you have done, what magic you used on him, but I will never forgive you for it.” The girl swept from the room, moving more like an empress than a broken former slave.
Jahlene tasted the terror beneath the facade.
She also tasted Mattin’s shock and horror. Her stomach twisted as she realized how damning the girl’s accusations must sound to a man fighting against his own fear. She wanted him to have faith in her. She wanted him to trust her. And the pain and growing anger echoing through him told her how much damage the chit had done. “Only once has my power touched you. If you think I would twist your emotions in such a fashion, you know nothing of me.” She strode out of the room herself, desperately needing space to nurse her own wounds.
Mattin didn’t know how long he stared after Jahlene. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he could guess. Marta’s accusations horrified him. He was shocked and pained that she thought such a thing. Ashamed that she would attack the mistress when they both owed Jahlene so much. But the mistress tasted emotion. More, he understood now that her glamour recognized only emotion. Sensing his horror but not knowing the cause, she assumed he believed in Marta’s accusations. After all, he would have thought exactly that when he first arrived here. He had practically accused her of twisting Jaffrey around in such a manner when he broke down in the glamourhame. Why wouldn’t he believe his new trust and comfort the result of her glamour?
Why wouldn’t she see how he had changed? Couldn’t she look past the fear he hadn’t fully overcome and see the l- caring (even in his own thoughts there were words he never used) beneath? Why couldn’t she understand how much he feared not her, but hurting her again? Now, instead of fear, there was pain. He stood at his desk and continued transcribing the notes. Ignoring the way the words blurred before his eyes. Desperately seeking distraction.
Thus began a very long day. The connection he had begun rebuilding with the mistress while at court vanished. When she returned, she was again distant, though at least she was no longer cold. They got through the day, then the evening, well enough. The mistress said nothing further about her discussion with Marta. Yet every time Mattin had a chance to think, his stomach clenched, and his muscles tightened as his thoughts chased themselves around a circle of hurt, outrage, and desperation. Then guilt would blossom for the way Jahlene would be interpreting his emotions, the way her assumptions would hurt her.
Mattin had no appetite at lunch.
He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell her, “I know it’s a lie. I trust you.” But she was so closed off. By afternoon, Mattin fell back into silent service since she did not wish any conversation.
As dinner approached, she suggested he eat with Marta. He hesitated a long moment, then shook his head. “Thank you, Lady, but I am still angry with her.”
She stared at him, “You are angry… with Marta?”
He thought of and discarded a dozen responses, trying to explain, convince… but in the end, said only, “Yes, Lady.”
She said nothing else. Mattin excused himself to tell Cook the mistress would eat with the household that evening.
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