CHAPTER 2

WALDOR AND WRITTEN WISDOMS

"You went to the old palace and slid down the banisters? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

I lowered my eyes and fidgeted a little bit in my chair. "No Tata, I really did."

"You deserted your mother's funeral to slide down banisters like a child?" Uncle Edward asked, tilting my face up to his, "Tell me, did you have a good time?" His voice was dripping with irony.

I was too ashamed to say anything back. I simply knocked his hand away and lowered my eyes.

"Well, did you?"

I wasn't going to let Uncle Edward see me cry. I kept a stiff upper lip long enough to say, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking… I guess. I don't know. I thought maybe it would hurt less if I shook it off and pretended nothing was wrong. I thought having some fun would do me some good."

Tata's expression softened a bit, but Uncle Edward still had a stony expression.

"Dearest, I understand it hurts, but that doesn't give you the right to gallivant around town." She patted my arm with her plump hand.

"It certainly doesn't mean that you can neglect visitors of such caliber as the royal family!"

I bit my lip and forced a half-hearted smile. "I didn't neglect Jerrold, at least."

Uncle Edward did not find it amusing.

"You, young lady, are restricted to your chambers until further notice," he said, sternly. "Do you understand that?"

I was too depressed to snap a clever retort at him. I just nodded sadly.

"Good." His gray eyes narrowed at me. "I'm off to do some business."

I watched him leave the hall, then sadly turned my gaze to Tata.

"I feel awful," I confessed more to my lap than to her, "I mean, yesterday I thought going to the funeral was a waste of time. But now that it's over, I don't have a chance to say goodbye. I didn't have a chance because I was being too stupid and childish to recognize how important her funeral was. It was my last and only chance to see her before they buried her." I sniffled and wiped my nose with my forearm (and to my surprise, Tata didn't scold me). "Tata, did she look beautiful? Was she peaceful?"

She smiled sadly. "Why, she looked just like a painting, she did. We dressed her in that favorite burgundy dress of hers and she was lovely. She looked so very peaceful… Why your mother was such a beauty! I'll miss that face of hers… my, it's such a shame you look nothing like her. Not that you aren't a sight for sore eyes, Mistress. I swear I can see your father every time I look at you."

I met her warm brown eyes for a moment, and then looked down quickly, trying to hide my tears. She hugged me to her chest and stroked my raven black hair. I wanted very much not to cry, but it was no use.

"Tata I miss her so much! It's not fair; it's not! I'll never have anyone like her again! She was the most perfect mother there ever was!" I sobbed loudly.

"Shhh, Rosalie, don't cry dearest."

I wished for just a moment that I could see her face break into a soft smile or hear her voice as she read to me from a book. I would be willing to pay any price just for a second of such a blessing. My vision was blurred by tears. I buried my face in Tata's shoulder.

It seemed that we sat like that for hours, just seeking comfort in each other. Despite her masked emotions, I knew Tata was just as sad as I. My mother was born when Tata was 23 years old, and she had pretty much overseen my mother's upbringing due to my grandmother's death in childbirth.

I wiped my eyes. They itched from my incessant dabbing and pawing at them. I leaned against Tata's shoulder and whimpered.

"You feel better now that you've had a good cry?" Tata asked finally, bestowing me with a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

I felt worse. A lot worse. Not only were my eyes puffy and itchy, but also the pain of losing my mother didn't seem to leave my head.

"Yes," I lied, not wanting to seem as if I were complaining (though I sorely wanted to start right back up crying again).

"Good, then up to your room with you," Tata ordered sternly, all the gentle understanding gone from her demeanor.

"What?!" It was more of a whine than a surprised gasp.

"Goodness child! You heard your uncle, didn't you?" She 'tsk'-ed with her tongue at my supposed poor memory.

"I didn't forget! I just thought…" I wasn't sure what I thought. I narrowed my eyes at Tata. "You're on his side aren't you?"

"Dear, I'm not on 'his side'! But my mother raised me well enough to follow the orders of a man over the wishes of a young lady. She'd be tossing in her grave if she could see me disobeying my master's wishes! Now up to your room with you! I'll find that embroidery of yours… wherever you misplaced it, and you can work on it."

I grudgingly got up. "You use that stupid 'tossing in her grave' phrase too often," I muttered angrily.

Tata rolled her eyes. "Up, up, up." She swatted at me with her hand.

"Fine," I surrendered, "Lock me in my room. This isn't the last you'll hear from me!" I was kidding, but Tata remained stern.

"Go."

----

I descended the stairs three incredibly long days later, my stomach grumbling from not eating anything except a couple of rolls that Tata had smuggled me over the previous days. I had spent most of my time thinking about Mother until I came up with the conclusion that she certainly wouldn't want me to spend my days crying myself ill. I decided that one cry a day, at the most, was all I was going to allow myself to do. If Mother really was watching over me as she had promised, she certainly wouldn't be happy to see me so depressed.

I was proud of myself in this resolution, thinking that I was being especially strong in making such a difficult vow. Especially knowing the fact that never again would I see her beautiful face ever again… I swallowed hard. I was provoking myself. I took a deep breath and entered the dining room.

"Good morning," I said, casually taking a seat right of Uncle Edward. "How was your business on Monday? I assume that all went well." I was half hoping he'd forgot about my punishment and that we'd be on good terms.

He had been wiping his mouth with a napkin, but he set it down on the table, eyeing me with distaste.

"What are you doing out of your room? I thought my orders were clear. Do not leave your chambers until further notice. I do recall saying that." He ran a hand through his shoulder-length dark brown hair, his stony eyes boring into me.

"Yes, I did hear you, but I'm starving," I complained, "I haven't eaten anything decent for three days!"

"If you had called upon a servant to ask me for a meal, I most likely would have sent up something this morning, but due to you deliberate insubordination, you'll go today without breakfast."

I gaped at him, extremely appalled with his decision. "That's not fair!"

"I suppose you don't want lunch either, then." Before I could retort, he added, "Good, then you shall miss that as well."

I was fuming. I furrowed my brow angrily and sent him a glare.

"You aren't hungry for dinner either? Don't let me prevent you from skipping your dinner."

He stood up, dusting the crumbs off his lap. I watched pathetically as they dropped to the floor. My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled. Even a crumb… I shook off my hunger and met his eyes once more.

"I never even said anything! If it's an apology you want then here. I apologized before, and I'll do it again. I-AM-SORRY," I sent him a daggers with my eyes, and repeated his words, "I do recall saying that."

" 'Sorry' won't bring your mother back, will it?"

I didn't have to have him re-establish that. I gawked at him for a moment, before breaking out into an angry rant. "Are you saying her death is my fault? My fault? You're the one who wouldn't call upon King Charmont and Queen Ella for their Royal Doctor! You're the one who let her suffer her fever for five days without calling upon a doctor; any doctor at all! And now it's my fault?"

I was shaking with anger. Uncle Edward had never been the ideal person to live with; always too uptight and stern. But now with Mother gone, there was no one to keep him in check. It was just he and I, and his boundless anger.

"To your room, NOW," he instructed austerely.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"Why would you think that?" His tone was contemptuous and scornful.

"It's because my father always was better than you, isn't it? He became the Duke of Frell. He was honored for his bravery on Ogre Expeditions. And he's your younger brother. You hate him because he outdid you in every aspect of life. He had a beautiful, wonderful wife and a family. And you never got that. Isn't that right? And you hate me because you hated him!" Tears were running down my cheeks. I can't honestly explain what I was crying over. My emotions were so mixed that I was having a difficult time clarifying exactly what they were.

My uncle's lifted to strike me, but Tata's voice interrupted our lovely little situation.

"Excuse me, sir, but there's a man here to see you." Tata curtsied and looked at me, her eyes instructing me more effectively than her mouth could in such a situation. 'Keep that mouth of yours shut!' they seemed to read and I obeyed them instantly.

He grinned a grin full of malice. "Tell him to come in," he instructed, then turned to me, "You better get to know him; he'll be staying for a while."

My heart was throbbing at the thought of impending dooms. Had my uncle promised me to be married? I vowed I would enter into no such arrangement. I'd run away to the palace where Jerrold would persuade everyone that I was an Ayorthian servant who spoke no Kyrrian. Or perhaps I would dress as a boy, cut off all my hair, and become a troubadour. My songs would consist only of Elfian and Abdegi words, in the rare occurrence that despite the fact that I looked like a boy someone recognized my voice or me. After thinking it over for half a minute, I realized how paranoid I was being.

"Ah! Edward, how long it has been since we last met! Still as vivacious as before, I see." A tall, spindly man with a long beard and shoestring moustache entered the room.

I scoffed. My uncle, vivacious? Please.

"What's this? Is this the little girl you spoke of? My, the way you talked, it seemed she'd be just a mite of a girl. But here she is, all grown up. She'll be harder to deal with than I thought." He twirled his moustache and looked me up and down as if I were a horse he was appraising. I shivered, quite a bit perturbed by this act.

I wanted to slap him and curse him, but Tata's look kept me bound to silence.

"You're dismissed, Tatiana," my uncle said with a wave of his hand, and then turned his attentions to me. "This is Waldor, from Bast, whom I've known for some years. He will be the new overseer of my estate. Now that it's mine, I intend to run it properly for what it's worth. Your father did a poor job running his properties. Why, with all these resources at hand, we could run a large plantation. I'll be rich in no time."

I wrinkled my brow. "But this is my estate. Mother only hired you to look after it. It isn't yours; she didn't give it to you."

Both Waldor and Uncle Edward burst out in laughter.

"Isn't she adorable? Ahh… You actually thought that you would run the estate when your mother died? That's rich, very rich indeed." He stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. "You're only a child. You're sixteen years old, and if you aren't already incompetent enough, I highly doubt allowing you to run this holding would change anything. Besides, it said in the will you were to run the manor and its assets when you were of age. Two more years until you are eighteen, and I highly doubt that you'll want to run the estate by the end of these two years, if you know what I mean."

I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. What could I say? Nothing, and I could do even less. I sighed in defeat. This was it; this was my new life. I was trapped in a house with two grown men; one who hated me, and the other whom found me amusing. And, by the way he was ogling at me, he obviously found me attractive too.

"I'm leaving now," I informed Uncle Edward, "I don't really care to be the victim of your slanders."

The two men exchanged looks of amusement, then started chuckling at me for a second time.

"She's a funny one, that's for sure!" Waldor chuckled, his bearded face twisted into what seemed a rather malicious smile.

They were still too busy laughing at me to recognize that I had slipped out of the room.

----

I bound up the stairs, stomping my feet loudly. How quickly all my luck had changed. Only three weeks before, I was a normal sixteen-year-old who was just as happy and satisfied as the next person. Now here I was, motherless and a prisoner in my own home. I cursed the fates for dealing me such an awful hand in life.

I stormed around the halls for a bit, trying to work out some sense of sanity in my mind. Was I going to do something about this predicament? I wasn't sure if I had the heart to fight anymore. Maybe I would just obey; rot in my room for the rest of time; my uncle would eventually have to die. If I did decide to fight back, how would I accomplish such a feat? Perhaps if it were only Uncle Edward, then, and I were really, really lucky, then I might win. But with two men, it seemed completely hopeless. Even if I were to 'win', what exactly did 'winning' entail? I highly doubted that I could persuade my uncle and Waldor to leave me with the manor.

My mind, if not already enough of a jumbled mess, slipped back to my mother once again. I realized how completely and hopelessly alone I was without her. I wasn't sure whether I would be able to keep my resolution anymore. I continued to pace around the halls, switching between anger and sadness until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I suppose the reason I loved books so much was because they were an escape. Whenever I went to our library and made myself comfortable in the large leather chair with a stack of my favorite books by my side, it seemed trouble was non-existent. It was only my books and me; me and the endless world of adventures and romance, philosophy, science, arithmetic or any other subject I wanted to delve into.

So I did exactly that. I locked the library door and rummaged through the piles of books. They seemed to flood the room, occupying all the shelves and most of the ground. I had read hundreds of them already, but there still existed many that I had yet to find.

With a large pile of books in my lap (that I knew would take me months to finish), I started to read. I hadn't been as happy since my mother's death than when I was in the library, not even with Jerrold. I would choose him over a book any day, of course; but the memory of the banisters and the castle was marred by my guilt. Reading, on the other hand, was a pleasure unstained. It felt like Mother would have wished me to heal through the wisdoms of the written word.