story - part 36 - stares - 1106 words

The morning classes are simple, dull. I explain to Tumaire the way I am going to teach him, I explain to him that he is going to actively learn, now, instead of just sitting back and being taught. I assign him one of those long and pointless assignments that I always hated when I was his age, and settle back to watch him struggle to complete it. It gives me an idea of just how much he knows.

It is amazing that he has been taking lessons all his life, but has never been required to complete a written assignment. He grips the quill awkwardly in his hand, his letters are formed crooked and slanted, he has to fight his way to the end. His grammar is atrocious, his spelling is impossible, he does not know any dates, and he only has a bare skeleton of knowledge. I wonder what his teacher did, if not teach him.

After discussing his paper, after I point out errors and read back sentences, after I put things up on the flat board for him to look at, to understand why the word he used here is inappropriate, there is no time to move on to a new assignment. Anyway, he is left looking worn and upset, endlessly frustrated. He has never been told he was wrong before, and he does not like it.

We each lunch together, him nursing his injured pride and me shuddering against the sudden hawk-like eyes all around us. I am new, and while word of who I am and why I am here has spread in whispering, timid voices, I am still strange. The wings alone, settled flat against my back, crooked and bent, are enough to stir conversation.

"Just ignore them." A soft whisper, murmured almost in my ear. I blink, look down to Tumaire with a startled expression - I did not expect him to recognize the tension in my shoulders, to understand how uneasy this makes me. He has never been conscious of anything but himself, before.

"It is not that simple. Just because I ignore them does not mean that they will disappear, or that the whispers will stop. It does not mean that they will start trusting me. And they are a reflection of the nobles, they decide my future, as you have seen. I have to care about their opinions." Gently as I can speak, but still there is that dull, flat edge to my voice. He does not try to comfort me again.

It slithers into afternoon, and we find our way into the Great Hall for the King’s court, to listen to the petitioners and the complaints. I am asked to settle at Tumaire’s right hand, settled appropriately into a lesser position. Farther away from him, so he does not have to touch me or look at me, or focus on the matted feathers at my back. I think he feels guilty, and I hope I am correct. The idea make some sadistic part of me rejoice.

There are more long stares from the nobles, and the common folk who have come to ask for the King's aid begin to stumble over their words, when they see me. Eyes migrate immediately to the stranger beside the prince, soaking up the possibility for rumors. Each wants to be the first to tell his or her home town that there is something happening at the palace, even if they do not understand what it is.

It drags on and on. I have been to court a dozen times, or more, but I have always been unimportant, I have blended into the background and been ignored. Now there is nothing I can do to avoid their eyes. I understand why Tumaire fidgets and lets his thoughts wander; while I feign attention, and I pretend I am listening, my own mind is racing and I listen to the way my heart pounds in my chest. I want nothing more than to escape to my room.

When it is finally finished, and the peasants and the nobles are dismissed from the hall, the King's hand settles light on my shoulder. I am not allowed to escape, not quite yet. It is obvious that he wants to catch me alone, and the thought is terrifying, but I allow him to lead me away into the small room across the hall, the one where he holds private courts. Like a child, I tremble under his hand, allow myself to be guided down into a chair.

"We are interviewing new physicians, this afternoon. You are to help, and Tumaire will be there to look on and see if he likes any of them. I want people who are subtly, quiet and trustworthy." An edge coming to his voice at that last word. It is almost a challenge, it is an insult, it is meant to bite and me and drag up a response. I do not go for the bait, but merely nod and wait for him to continue.

"I doubt we will have many applicants, so far, but we will have a few. You should interview them to see if they are competent, Tumaire to see if he can stand having them around, and myself to make sure they will not cause any more trouble for us." Sarcastic, still trying to get a rise out of me. It does force my eyes down and away, brings to the surface a dull guilt. I almost apologize for turning the castle inside out, even though this is not truly my fault.

"Will we speak with them separately, or all at once?" Keeping my tone carefully flat and neutral. Except that now that I want to wash away emotion and to sound dull, uninterested, it trembles and catches in my throat. I wonder if I will ever be able to stand as an adult, before him, or if I will always be a tentative teenager.

"Together. Do you really think I would send you off alone to talk to these people?" The idea is impossible, in his mind, he makes it clear just how ridiculous he thinks it is. And then he is standing, starting for the door, intending to escape before I have a chance to respond and defend myself.

"An hour and a half, and we will be meeting here. Do not be late, that would not be proper, and it would give them ideas." And then he is swishing out of the room in an elegant and noble way, leaving me to deal with the flush on my cheeks and that pounding fury.