It's been longer than I thought since the last update, but that's what school does. Still, it has arrived. Enjoy, and of course, reviews are always much appreciated.
Sitting in a glittering hall, filled with women in fancy dresses and men in even fancier tunics, Tyke felt distinctly out of place. She was the youngest there, although not by much, but everyone else seemed to much older than her, as though the nobility of their positions had aged them. Most of them had this way of looking down their noses at her as though they weren't quite sure what she was, and they were even less sure they wanted to get close enough to find out. The ladies especially, for while they wore their elegant dresses as though well used to the glamour, Tyke felt odd to be wearing skirts, and knew that her hair, cut as short as some of the men's, looked odd over a dress. Since she was little and skinny - not built like a proper lady at all - she wondered if others maybe saw her as a little boy wearing a dress.
It wasn't only the people and the clothes that were odd, but the food and manners as well. Tyke was used to the simple fare and simpler manners of the country folk, and the elaborate manners made her head hurt even as the rich food nauseated her stomach.
At least her earlier question of what it was noble ladies actually did had been answered, although that answer had been far from satisfactory. How anyone could spend so much time sewing and talking truly was beyond Tyke, who spent every minute indoors itching to be back out in the woods. It was a little bit strange, she admitted, because she hadn't minded sitting inside in the villages during the winter, where the women, and some men too, would sit sewing and talk for hours, often by the light of a single lantern. Sometime Tyke would sew with them, or play with the younger children, although she had no idea what Sir Rowland would have thought to know that his young charge engaged in activities so far below her perceived station.
A smoothly dressed man, perhaps twenty years her senior, seemed to appear before her, smiling in what he doubtless thought was an engaging way. "Would you honor me with a dance, my lady?" he asked, politely. While she fought to keep her face blank, Tyke's insides were in turmoil. She couldn't dance anything but the simple country reels that everyone in the villages knew, the ones no one minded if you didn't do very well. How could she excuse herself politely to this man without embarrassing herself by admitting as much? As she struggled for her answer, she looked at the man, and soon found herself disliking what she saw. The man had a strangely oily demeanor, sickly and unpleasant, and it felt as though she would somehow dirty herself by associating with him. It no longer mattered that she didn't know how to dance; she just didn't want to be near this man.
"No, thank you," she said as politely as she could, knowing full well that she was being terribly rude and that if this man was important (as he looked to be) she would hear of it from Rowland later.
The man seemed to think she was being coy, or some such. Tyke had seen the other girls her age flirting with men, but she knew she could never manage the flippant, sweet tones they managed, or affect many of the airs they put on. "I really must insist," he persisted.
Tyke could have sworn than Coban sensed her distress, because he was there beside her chair as though he had always been, giving the man a look that was very cold. If you had just looked at Coban's aristocratic features, you might have forgotten how big the young man actually was, but at times like this he managed to loom over even those taller than him, while drawing on every ounce of icy noble scorn contained within him. He didn't even say anything, but they older man seemed to give a visible start. He made a few polite remarks to Coban before excusing himself, presumably to go talk to an old acquaintance he hadn't seen in a very long time and had only just noticed was present.
"Ye shouldn't be talking to men like that." Following a few moments of further icy silence after the man had left, Coban had finally decided to say something.
"I try not to," Tyke snapped back, annoyed at his tone. As though she had encouraged the man! Honestly, men were all the same. You gave them the time and they thought you were interested in them. Well, not Coban, or Rowland, or Jerril, or some of the others who were like uncles to her, but all the men in the villages. Well, not all of them but… there was always one annoying man who gave the rest a bad reputation. "Honestly, Ban, if you think I even wanted to talk to that ball of slime you're as dumb as he is." Coban looked only slightly mollified.
"I'll be glad to get away from here," he said.
Tyke nodded her agreement vehemently. "Me too."
Ban looked at her quizzically. "I thought ye were enjoying yerself here. Ye seem to like spending time with the other girls."
For a moment, Tyke could think of no response to this obvious bit of foolishness. "Honestly, Ban? You must be crazy. I can't stand them, or Corus." When he big friend seemed about to object, she added, "and if you disagree, then you can spend a day doing embroidery, and tell me how anyone could enjoy it."
Coban grinned at her. "Ye really aren't much of a noble lady, are you Tyke?" Her response was a truly un-ladylike snort. "What say we go see what's to do in the city?"
Tyke grinned. "Rowland will never let me."
"And here I thought ye were a brave squire lass, not some milk-hearted noble's get," Ban teased her.
Knowing he was goading her, Tyke took the bait anyway. "We'll just see about that. Lead on, boy."