I awaken to the sounds of my brother's snores.
"Ferdain!" I hiss. He jolts out of his sleep.
"What," He mutters irritably. "Are you doing here?"
"I am your sister, Ferdain. Do you not remember that we have been traveling together all our lives? Or are you feeling too poorly from last night to remember much of anything."
"I thought perhaps you'd be in Clopin's tent." I cuff him behind the ear. He groans into the pillow.
"What a thing to say, you wicked boy!" He laughs weakly.
"I am older than you, Evalyne, in case you forgot. And besides, was it that large of a presumption? He's obviously ready to add you to his innumerable list of conquests. You seem to tolerate him reasonably well. I thought you'd be more than willing to add him to your own list."
A person who could not face the truth about themselves might hate my brother for this. He is right enough. If a gypsy here were to call me a whore, they would not be entirely mistaken. I have had my share of men and romances, or complete lack of romances and simply the men. And it is true that I only have to tolerate them to allow them the other pleasures.
These things tend to happen when your parents are dead and your only guardian is a horribly lazy older brother who gives you neither supervision nor discipline.
But I am repentant, older, wiser. Responsibility will do that to you.
"A fool who understands nothing, as usual, Ferdain. Are you getting up to help me today, or will I be collecting our breakfast alone?" Ferdain pushes himself up from the blankets he lies upon.
"Give me a bit to drag myself out, Evalyne, but I promise I'll be there." I exit the tent of one of Ferdain's friends, a single boy who decided that one as lazy as Ferdain would not make a horrible mess of his tent, since he has not even the energy to make a mess let alone clean it up.
Antessa, the dark yet friendly woman I met the night before, sits outside of her tent, mending some article of clothing.
"Morning, sharp little girl!" She calls out. I hold back a smirk. Nicknames do catch on quickly here.
"I see you've a morning of work ahead of you." She smiles.
"Wait until you marry. You will have no time for that fiddle or anything else." I hold my head up high.
"I will never marry if it means I'll have to lay my only love down." She laughs.
"That is a rare talent you have. I'll bet it saves you and your brother everywhere you go."
Saves, no. Sustains, yes.
"It is the only thing we possess. If I ever lose it, I'll have to marry."
"Hasn't Ferdain anything useful?" I shrug.
"He is a very good thief. Unfortunately his eyes are bigger than his stomach and he gets caught with what he takes."
"Clopin would not be able to stand him." Antessa says, shaking her head.
"Why?"
"Clopin hates the constant accusation of gypsies being thieves. As long as we only steal when it is absolutely necessary or the person is deserving, he doesn't consider it a true accusation. Men like your brother irritate him to no end."
"I didn't think it was possible to irritate him." She grins.
"You do it quite well."
Fine. I admittedly go out of my way to show up, be rude to, and generally make fun of Clopin. But I'm beginning to realize that there's only so much leniency that will be allowed a newcomer towards a King, even if that King can be irritating and even if that newcomer is a potential conquest.
We are silent for a moment until Antessa picks the conversation back up.
"How is it that you and Ferdain wander about the entire world by yourselves?" Antessa asks.
"When I was 10, our parents were killed." I say it so plainly that Antessa pokes herself in the finger with her needle.
I cannot be sad about it. It's been nearly 9 years. I have given the story to so many and felt the regrets and the sorrow so much that I'm almost immune to it.
My mother and father died. As people die. As bold gypsies certainly die. Now I am with my brother, and I don't have the luxury of weeping over their deaths.
"How?" I smile. This is the part of them that I am proud of.
"They were not ones to simply back down from the prejudice of those around them. My father used to say that there would be a point that they could no longer allow themselves to be slowly degraded into nothing. The point came, and both my parents were killed because they said the wrong thing to a few guards." Antessa sighs, brushing back some of her black hair.
"Such a sad story and yet you don't seem to worry about it. A good thing too. Hopefully you haven't inherited their ways with the guards."
"God no. If I am afraid of anything, it's the guards with their inexhaustible hatred." She smiles again. It's hard not to smile in this Court, with its smiling King.
"There are too many of us with a quick tongue and not a quick enough mind. It's good you have both and that you use the one before the other."
"All right, Evalyne." Ferdain says, coming up behind me and rubbing his neck. "I'm damnably hungry. Let's go." I chuckle.
"I'll see you later, Antessa." She waves as Ferdain and I walk off.
"Try not to disgrace our King today! He'll be up there as well!"
"Ferdain!" I hiss. He jolts out of his sleep.
"What," He mutters irritably. "Are you doing here?"
"I am your sister, Ferdain. Do you not remember that we have been traveling together all our lives? Or are you feeling too poorly from last night to remember much of anything."
"I thought perhaps you'd be in Clopin's tent." I cuff him behind the ear. He groans into the pillow.
"What a thing to say, you wicked boy!" He laughs weakly.
"I am older than you, Evalyne, in case you forgot. And besides, was it that large of a presumption? He's obviously ready to add you to his innumerable list of conquests. You seem to tolerate him reasonably well. I thought you'd be more than willing to add him to your own list."
A person who could not face the truth about themselves might hate my brother for this. He is right enough. If a gypsy here were to call me a whore, they would not be entirely mistaken. I have had my share of men and romances, or complete lack of romances and simply the men. And it is true that I only have to tolerate them to allow them the other pleasures.
These things tend to happen when your parents are dead and your only guardian is a horribly lazy older brother who gives you neither supervision nor discipline.
But I am repentant, older, wiser. Responsibility will do that to you.
"A fool who understands nothing, as usual, Ferdain. Are you getting up to help me today, or will I be collecting our breakfast alone?" Ferdain pushes himself up from the blankets he lies upon.
"Give me a bit to drag myself out, Evalyne, but I promise I'll be there." I exit the tent of one of Ferdain's friends, a single boy who decided that one as lazy as Ferdain would not make a horrible mess of his tent, since he has not even the energy to make a mess let alone clean it up.
Antessa, the dark yet friendly woman I met the night before, sits outside of her tent, mending some article of clothing.
"Morning, sharp little girl!" She calls out. I hold back a smirk. Nicknames do catch on quickly here.
"I see you've a morning of work ahead of you." She smiles.
"Wait until you marry. You will have no time for that fiddle or anything else." I hold my head up high.
"I will never marry if it means I'll have to lay my only love down." She laughs.
"That is a rare talent you have. I'll bet it saves you and your brother everywhere you go."
Saves, no. Sustains, yes.
"It is the only thing we possess. If I ever lose it, I'll have to marry."
"Hasn't Ferdain anything useful?" I shrug.
"He is a very good thief. Unfortunately his eyes are bigger than his stomach and he gets caught with what he takes."
"Clopin would not be able to stand him." Antessa says, shaking her head.
"Why?"
"Clopin hates the constant accusation of gypsies being thieves. As long as we only steal when it is absolutely necessary or the person is deserving, he doesn't consider it a true accusation. Men like your brother irritate him to no end."
"I didn't think it was possible to irritate him." She grins.
"You do it quite well."
Fine. I admittedly go out of my way to show up, be rude to, and generally make fun of Clopin. But I'm beginning to realize that there's only so much leniency that will be allowed a newcomer towards a King, even if that King can be irritating and even if that newcomer is a potential conquest.
We are silent for a moment until Antessa picks the conversation back up.
"How is it that you and Ferdain wander about the entire world by yourselves?" Antessa asks.
"When I was 10, our parents were killed." I say it so plainly that Antessa pokes herself in the finger with her needle.
I cannot be sad about it. It's been nearly 9 years. I have given the story to so many and felt the regrets and the sorrow so much that I'm almost immune to it.
My mother and father died. As people die. As bold gypsies certainly die. Now I am with my brother, and I don't have the luxury of weeping over their deaths.
"How?" I smile. This is the part of them that I am proud of.
"They were not ones to simply back down from the prejudice of those around them. My father used to say that there would be a point that they could no longer allow themselves to be slowly degraded into nothing. The point came, and both my parents were killed because they said the wrong thing to a few guards." Antessa sighs, brushing back some of her black hair.
"Such a sad story and yet you don't seem to worry about it. A good thing too. Hopefully you haven't inherited their ways with the guards."
"God no. If I am afraid of anything, it's the guards with their inexhaustible hatred." She smiles again. It's hard not to smile in this Court, with its smiling King.
"There are too many of us with a quick tongue and not a quick enough mind. It's good you have both and that you use the one before the other."
"All right, Evalyne." Ferdain says, coming up behind me and rubbing his neck. "I'm damnably hungry. Let's go." I chuckle.
"I'll see you later, Antessa." She waves as Ferdain and I walk off.
"Try not to disgrace our King today! He'll be up there as well!"