Chapter four:
I tiptoed over and tapped on Drias door.
"Alexi? Can I come in?" I used the name I used to call her when we were younger.
"Yea, sure. Its open." She was lying on her bed, skirts a mess and tear stains on her face.
"Are you OK? What happened?" I had forgiven her for the cruel way she had treated me when Emma had arrived on the scene. Emma made Alexandria's life a living nightmare. That's why I had come to her for assistance.
"Emma again?" I persisted when she said nothing.
" Its just…nothing. The boy I fancy does not even acknowledge my existence. He is smitten with Hella" We often called our stepsister Hella. Perhaps that's where the name Ella came from.
"Well, I have a plan to get rid of Emma for good. We can use her boy-grabbing enchantments to our advantage." I explained to her what Trivy and I had come up with. I did not mention the mystic to her though. But she wasn't smart enough to wonder about the little things.
"Oh certainly, I'll help. I think I can get mother on our side too. Would that help?" She was under my orders now, I agreed that our mother would be an advantage as long as Dria could acquire her quietly.
We agreed on the first move and then I went back to my room not an hour after I had left it.
The next day my mother caused a scene. It was brilliant. She accused Emma of stealing her orange slippers and when she was told to prove it, mother had framed her.
"I have no idea where those came from!" Emma screeched at the orange slippers. Her father was there too. He was frowning deeply.
"Emmeline," Creiler said gravely. "You'll have to be punished for this. If you wanted the slippers, you could have asked to borrow them. No, don't argue." He told her when she opened her mouth. "I see it fit to let Madelinda decide what will happen to you since it was she who was affected by your crime."
He glanced at my mother before strutting out of the room to his study.
"I see it fit for you to scrub the floors while I instruct my daughters in singing. If I see a single spot of dirt then you will have three other things to do after." She gave Emma her punishment.
Emma looked stricken and gasped like she couldn't believe what we were asking her Royal Highness to do.
"Fine, but I'll need a servant to help me carry the water." She smirked. I could tell she what she was up to.
"You can use Thomas, the assistant chef, he won't do any of the mopping for you. He is married and incredibly faithful. So don't even try to woe him into doing it for you. I want to see that dress in tatters when you're done!" My mother could also see Emmas plan.
As Emma started to cry, the three of us walked into the music room. I wondered what was going on, but I had to wait to ask as my mother was setting herself up at the piano. She started to play with her right hand and with her left she signaled for us to come closer.
"I've been mad at that little twit for over a year. Her father is absolutely too lenient with her. I think its time we taught her a lesson. Who does she think she is? Don't think I don't notice the way she talks down to you! We brought her into our wealth and she should be properly grateful, not insulting us behind our backs!" She paused to glare at the door. By that time we could hear the water sloshing in the bucket as Emma rinsed out the brush. Her sobs had finally quieted down.
"Here is my plan." Mother looked at each of us, one at a time. "It's nothing special really. Just sing as terribly as possible to disturb our little princess in her washing. Knowing Emma, it will make her revolutionarily jealous. We can do little things like this for awhile before your plan comes into action." She looked at me. "Its brilliant, by the way, my dear. These little torment sessions will only just keep us motivated. We must wait until the ball, as Dria told me, before anything permanent will happen. Am I right?" She raised one elegantly curved eyebrow. I was surprised. Mother had not shown any interest in our well fare or us for years now. This new protection in her must have an ulterior motive.
"Once she is out of the house, I will have Crey all to myself. Also we will have more money because we won't have to be buying her clothes anymore." Well, there was her ulterior motive. And if my plan were to work, we would most defiantly have more spending money.
Mother started playing 'Sing sweet nightingale' and the two of us started moaning the lyrics in monotone voices. We could hear Emma humming the tune as she scrubbed to the beat, but she was worse than we were, if that was possible. Choking on laughter, we finished the song and started on 'Love is free as a dove'. Emmeline dragged the bucket across the floor as mother cringed and muttered something about scratching wooden boards and needing to wax it next time. After half an hour I excused myself, slipping out of the room and draging my boots (covered in dried mud, by the way.) across the wet floor. I grinned as I saw the paw prints the cat had danced across Emmas sloppy mopping job. Her dress was indeed in tatters, getting repeatedly caught on the furniture and snagging on corners. I went to the kitchen and begged a packed lunch from Deirdre, the afternoon chef.
"Going riding, my lady?" The middle-aged woman smiled, putting a cheese and ham sandwich into a pack, along with several other things.
"Yes, towards Quadro Lake, I think." I lied. I liked Deirdre, but if she was asked, I didn't want anyone to know where I was going. Accepting the pack from the friendly woman, I skipped along to the stables.
"Hullo Marton, hey, Jack." I greeted the stable tenders. Jack touched the back of my hand and helped me saddle my horse. He smiled and I couldn't help returning it. I had fallen in love with him for a reason, even if I no longer felt as strongly about him. My smile dropped as I thought about my change of heart. How was I going to break it off with him?
I left my worries aside as I trotted out of the gate. Riding down the road, Snow was kicking up dirt. I steered her onto the side path, which had more grass covering the ground. I rode in the general direction of Trivys house, thinking to tell her of my progress and return her book. The grassy path took me near Chisel Hill. No, I swear I had not planned to see him, it was a complete accident. Troy was riding a gray chestnut mare as I rode up behind him.
"Hey. Fancy seeing you here, missy. Where are you headed? With that beautiful horsy and that pretty red braid tied down your back. A real warrior maiden, you look. Not often you find a girl like you, it isn't." He looked me up and down, noting my men's riding books and rough leather tack instead of delicate ladies sued. I also checked him out. He was wearing an un-died cotton shirt with black breaches. I knew for certain what was concealed in his baggy clothing, however, as I also wore an unusual choice in garments. My rough clover-green dress had scarlet trim to distract people from its unconventional looseness. We each wore leather belts, to which were secured (and they really were secure. Both being pick-pockets we knew how to keep our money safe.) purses.
"We have certain similarities, yes." I teased. "Where are you going, Troy?" I had been back to his shop one other time and we had gotten companionable enough to chat.
"I'm going where I'm going. And please stop calling me Troy, which was my fathers' name. I much prefer Trey." When I laughed, he added. "A slur, I know, but its what I'm used too."
"Sure. Well, I'm going this way too, so we might as well ride together." We had already gotten past the city limits and were riding towards the forest.
"Agreed, lady. Might I ask your name?" His face was honest, but I knew he was as good as I was as lying, so I couldn't be sure. Still, I told him the truth.
"Annie Sylvester, Mr. Trey-with-no-last-name." We flirted with each other until we got into the forest. Then we both became quiet. The forest was silent as the grave. With a single glance to our surroundings, we drew our sharpest blades from their concealing places under our clothing. With ease we shifted into defensive positions in our saddles. The leather creaked as we moved.
All of a sudden, six bandits jumped us. They swung at us from the trees over our heads. Stupid really, they were completely exposed to our steady knife slashes. We each cut down two. I had slashed one in the throat as well as giving him a deep gouge in his chest. For the second, I simply slashed his cheek and tossed him into an old oak tree. He had hit the trunk head on, as I had directed in my throw, knocking him out and causing a great bruise to form on his forehead. I didn't see what Trey had done to his two men, being busy watching the remaining two thieves run away.
Wordlessly we wiped the sweat from our brows and replaced our knives in their straps. Moving our horses closer together, we thoroughly scanned the trees for any other attacks. Seeing none, we continued down the road, not letting up our guard until the birds started singing again.
"You're incredibly fast with that knife, Annie. I'll never cross you again." He didn't smile, I could tell from his voice that he was serious, it was still even wavering a little from the adrenaline.
"I didn't see what you did, but it must have been better than what I did, you don't even have any blood on your clothes." Neither did, I, but his victims had not been bleeding when I had looked them over.
"Its just a trick I know, not many people let it pass, but those two were not the most skilled I had ever met." He looked at me, hisblue eyes penetrating my own hazel ones. "You are. I'd really enjoy practicing with you, if you ever get the time." He turned back towards the road.
"I'd love too, and I'm flattered. You will more than match me. Although I'd like to see how much the both of us could steal on a market day together." I grinned, thinking of all the disappointed rich men a day like that would turn out.
We talked about other things for forty-five minutes until we got to a fork in the road. Deciding when we'd meet next, he went right down path while I went left.
Feeling happy about the encounter, aside from the attack, I rode the last fifteen minutes to Trivys cottage.