Though it took a while to settle in, Sybil’s unit managed to get everything together in time for dinner. Duxton spent his time staring at the bowl in front of him. It was of a mix of beans, herbs, and boiled sprouts served over reheated barley. There was a fried egg on top that had a tiny amount of cheese grated over it.
“... What is this?” He looked up at Sybil.
“It's what the servants had for lunch. There were plenty of leftovers, so I thought it would be best to not waste food.” She smiled all the wider. “We should temporarily cut back on our meal costs unless it’s Satyrday.”
Shaw gave a nod of approval. “A wise plan. We should analyze the barony’s budget and minimize our spending.” He moved his spoon through the bowl as he inspected its contents, gave another nod of approval, then slowly began to eat. Sybil didn't think it tasted bad, but Duxton ate it like it was a giant pain.
He didn't complain though. Not when Sybil explained that there was less staff on hand, or when she explained that she had removed all the decorations for the future Lady Rockender’s benefit. His eye occasionally twitched when she explained some of the changes she wanted, yet his only reply was for her to do what she wanted. After all, she was acting as the lady of the estate.
Though they weren’t expecting to do much work, Shaw left for Blackmount after they had finished their meal. Duxton requested that any work there be brought to him. Sybil was told that she could do whatever she pleased. Her main concern was the Satyrday meal. She questioned some of the staff to see what was usually done.
After Shaw returned, they held a meeting to discuss what they had learned. Duxton planned to spend the next two days catching up on the work that had built up. This meant that neither Sybil or Shaw would see him all that much. That was fine by Sybil, who didn’t want to deal with him anyway. If she could alter his schedule to avoid him further, all the better.
“Rather than do the normal Satyrday meal, I’ve scheduled a day out for you. You and an entourage will be going hunting. The mayor of Blackmount has a few hunting dogs and should know the area well enough. While you’re out, I’ll be hosting a tea party here for the women.” Something similar to that gossip party she had attended during her last mission in Carapace.
“Yes, yes...” Duxton muttered as he stared at the wall.
Sybil’s plan to make him miserable was already working. “Is something wrong?”
“... No.” The prince looked down at his hands, where his thumbs were fumbling together. “You told the maids not to wear their uniforms?” She nodded. “And you have a butler cleaning my room and managing my clothing? Not yourself or the maids? I ask because that Brom fellow insisted that he be the first one to handle all of my affairs.”
“What does it matter if it's a male servant?” Sybil put her finger to her cheek while she tilted her head. She put on her best innocent face.
“You damn well know why it matters,” he gritted his teeth and spoke in a low tone. “I gave up a lot to do this mission, yet I have been stripped of the most basic of necessities. I have no delicate flowers to ravage with my eyes, my entourage is too busy to do my bidding, and I have to ensure you don't mess everything up so badly that word of it falls upon the duke’s ears.”
“I don't think I am going to do anything poorly,” muttered Sybil as she maintained a cutesy way of speaking.
“No. You're probably not,” muttered Duxton. “A hunt is a fine idea. Changing the meal plan is... Annoying, however, I acknowledge your reasoning... But I need my flowers, Sybil. I can be a good boy and not touch them, but I need them to be prim and pretty. They are running about in rags with messily tied up hair and it’s… It’s...” He stood up from his chair. “You're coming with me. Now.”
Sybil was about to protest when Shaw also stood up. It shouldn't be a problem if he was there as well. Together, they went outside of the main building and towards the entertainment hall. While the main building was for the baron’s family, a separate hall had been built to host parties.
It consisted of a ballroom that had an elegant staircase that led up to a sitting lounge. Paintings of animals dressed like people were hung up on the walls, each creature was playing a different sort of game, from cards to dancing contests.
Duxton moved across the ballroom to where a large box with horns sprouting out the top. He began to twist the wheel that was on its side and a delicate waltz fluttered through the air. It sounded almost like a cross between a music box and an organ. There was a toy-like quality to it that had been matured by its overall size.
The prince walked back over to where Sybil was standing and extended his hand. “Come on.”
“I know you mistakenly believe that you're in charge of my education, sir, but I've had enough dance lessons to last me a lifetime.” She flinched as he flicked her in the forehead.
“I don't know where to begin on how much you've ruined for me today. Come on.”
He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to an open area. Forcing her hand on his shoulder, Duxton placed his palm on her waist and took her hand within the other. His fingers tightened about hers as they began to dance together.
Sybil looked off to the side. Now was her punishment for talking back. She was hoping to be yelled at and sent to her room, but Duxton was correctly under the assumption that she adored being alone. Her eyes flitted to Shaw. He was leaning against the wall, neither on her side or Duxton’s. His apathy was annoying, but at least it was better than having him stomp on her knee as he had in Carapace.
On the other hand, since Shaw had apparently warmed up to her, he could try to help her escape. Maybe if she pleaded with large eyes, he would send her off to Carapace with barrels of wheat. Wheat that could be given to Miss Iofea, and Sybil could have all the fresh bread she wanted in a place that didn’t involve this fool of a prince.
“You're still in your riding clothes,” Duxton hissed at her.
“I didn't see a point in changing,” she muttered back. “It’s hot out and I only packed three dresses. There’s no point in getting sweat all over them if I can avoid it.”
“You need to present an image of authority to your staff. That includes always having appropriate clothing, wearing makeup, and are you seriously not able to do anything with your hair unless someone does it for you?”
“I'll cut it short again,” she snapped back. “No one complained when I wore it like that.” Till complained. That seemed like a moot issue. It was too hot for long hair.
He frowned all the harder. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. You're going to be a proper baroness. I don't know what happened since we got back from Carapace, but you stopped acting like a proper young woman.”
“You mean I started to act happy? Because I was?” She raised a brow. “Something about not being imprisoned around you for all hours of the day made my life so much easier. I can't quite place my finger on why that was.”
“I don't care if you're happy,” he growled back. “I care that we have a productive trip and I see now that me being nice to you has lead you to think that you can get sloppy. I am going to rectify those mistakes and mold you into something that is presentable. If you fail at that, I am going to have Shaw break your legs again and I won't let him fix them this time around.”
Shaw's voice called out from the side. “I'm not doing that.” Duxton shot him a glare. “I was fine with hitting her before because you had lied about her being a bad influence on Master Alton. Now it feels like kicking a kitten... Or something smaller and more innocent.” He put a hand to his chin. “A baby bird. She’s a helpless little hatchling.”
Sybil stopped in her tracks. “You said I was a bad influence?” Normally she would shrug that off, but a lifetime of hearing that sort of talk from outlanders had made that a sore subject for her.
“For some reason that's beyond my comprehension, you're fond of that fish. Obviously, you either had an ulterior motive or there was something wrong with you,” he tightened his grip on her so she couldn't get away. “Be quiet for a few minutes. Talking is making me annoyed and I'm too tired to give you a proper punishment.”
The sun began to set as they continued to dance together. It shined through the tall windows of the ballroom and bathed it in an orange glow. If only she weren’t dancing with this idiot. Sybil might have enjoyed herself otherwise.
“Thank you,” Duxton dropped his hands from her. “Now go away. I wish to be alone.”
Without a word, Sybil curtsied and made her way to the stables. She needed to check Oyster to see how he was doing after their journey. After a few moments of searching, she relented and went to find someone to help her. It was foolish to have let someone else put him away, where she couldn’t find him on her own.
“What do you mean he went missing?”
“I'm sorry, my lady. We have people out looking for him,” replied Brom. “I assure you that none of us know how he was able to get out. I would say he did it himself, but a horse wouldn’t be able to do that on his own.” Sybil’s eye began to twitch in a violent manner and that was making him nervous. “Apologies, my lady!”
“I'm sure it isn't your fault,” she said between gritted teeth. She should have said something earlier but was in such a rush to ruin Duxton's visit that she had forgotten to do so.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Sybil was to far from the barracks for her letter to work. She also didn't bring much money, only enough to by her friends some souvenirs. Though the thought of stealing Duxton’s horse crossed her thoughts, she didn’t wish to risk being stuck traveling alone with an unknown horse.
The moment they found her damn horse again, she was going to leave. That's what she decided. Sybil took a deep breath. Shaw’s wagon. All she would have to do would be find a barrel of wheat, and steal the wagon. As soon as Duxton gave her a good enough reason to do so, that’s what she was going to do.
She went to be feeling disgruntled and a maid woke her up at dawn. Sybil had forgotten that Duxton was a morning person. Sitting there with bleary eyes, she waited patiently as the maid explained that she would be acting as Sybil’s handmaiden. While Sybil washed off her face, the maid pulled out three dresses from the armoire.
“Where did these come from?”
None of these were items she had packed. Though, she did recognize them. They were the ones that Lady Elbellziara had bought her last summer. She had thought they were all in storage, but it wasn't exactly a secure location. Anyone could have found them there. She had said that any of the women of their year could borrow one if they needed it for a mission.
“Master Arbutus asked to have these brought to your room. We fetched them from his cart,” she said with a bow. “Prince Duxton has instructed me to give you several options each morning for you to choose from.” There were undergarments laid out as well. Intricate, lacey undergarments that she knew didn’t belong to her. They were also her size, a fact that disturbed her greatly. “My lady, are you alright?”
“Sybil. Please call me Sybil.” She began to dig through her dresser. “... Where is my underwear?”
“Prince Duxton had instru-”
“He told you to throw them away.” The maid nodded. “... Is the prince still sleeping?” Because if he wasn't, she was going to give him an eternal sort of slumber.
“About that, my la- Uhm, Lady Sybil, I was told to give you a list of duties that you needed to perform. Would you like to go over them while I help you get ready?”
“Yes, thank you.” She flashed the maid a smile. No need to take out her anger on her. Everything in due time.
Her duties hadn't changed much from what was described before, but Duxton had added a few “requests.” Every morning, she was expected to wake up Duxton and help him get ready. They would have breakfast together and then he would begin his work in the estate’s office. If she wasn't going anywhere that day, they would be having lunch together. Otherwise, she was to be home before dinner every day.
Sybil was to handle all, “wifely duties,” as Duxton hard phrased it. Such as helping him select his attire and assure that he was generally, kept happy. That was on top of her own schedule of having to read books and write reports for him to grade, as well as greet any messengers and take their letters to him. All of that along with a host of other stupid tasks that all seemed to revolve around him.
And wasn’t she blessed enough to have gotten up early enough to get started on her work? Absolutely blessed. Sybil got dressed, prepped what she needed, went to Duxton’s room, and immediately splashed a glass of water in his face. He sat up with a sputter. The fogginess of sleep quickly left him as he realized what was happening.
“What did you do that for?!”
“Good morning, my lord. Breakfast will be ready soon.” She spoke politely and with an overly fake smile.
Duxton tilted his head as he examined her. She had picked a shoulderless dress with knee-length skirt. Her hair had been pinned up and she had a ridiculous hat set aside in her room in case she needed it to ward off the sun later. As he looked at her, Duxton rested his elbow on his knee so he could put his chin in the palm of his hand.
“You look... Absolutely appetizing.” He licked a drop of water off his lips.
“My lord is lucky that I didn't choose to kill him in his sleep.”
“Your form is better, which meant that you must be wearing the new lingerie. Good to know they followed my orders without checking in with you first.” He smiled as a hint of death showed up in her eyes. “May I see how my investment looks on-” Sybil threw another glass of water in his face. “Cease!” He looked over to the nightstand, where she had set down a tray full of glasses of water. “... Sybil! No, bad Sybil!”
Sybil set the empty glass down and walked over to his armoire. She opened it and started to pull out the shirts and tunics that were neatly hung so that she could carelessly toss them on the floor. The prince fumbled around for something to dry off his face. He then gave up on that and sprung out of bed. Dashing over, he snatched up her wrist.
“What are you doing that for?”
“I'm throwing them away. They look terrible on you.” Putting her free hand over her mouth, she let out a trickle of fake laughter. “Who am I kidding? Everything you wear looks horrible. Your personality is so tainted that it sours absolutely everything around you!”
His grip painfully tightened itself in rage. “Why are you being so difficult?!”
It was about that time when Sybil realized that Duxton had chosen to sleep in silk boxers that did a whole lot to hide nothing. All of his windows had been left open, as the previous night had been dreadfully hot. Though it might have been her fault that he sprung out of bed, she hadn’t thought that he would choose to sleep in such an exposed way. Then again, he did request that she be the first person to see him every morning, so in a way, this was completely his fault.
Her free hand slapped him across the face. Before he could react, Sybil shifted into mist so she could slip out of his grasp. She floated to the door and became whole again. Quickly, she opened it up and slammed it shut... A groan was let out between her clenched teeth. Shifting like that without her sword, though not as bad as before, still left her feeling drained.
Sybil only made it three steps before she was forced to brace herself against the wall. Her chest felt tight. She slumped to the ground and covered her hand over her mouth to control her breathing, followed by horrible coughing. Not once did she dare to open her eyes, even as she heard footsteps running towards her.
“My lady!” Brom knelt down in front of her. “Are you alright? … Goodness, you've gone pale.”
“I've had a bit of a shock... I'll be alright.”
The door opened behind her and Duxton skidded out of it. He had put on a long shirt in order to give himself some modesty. “Sybil!” He was honestly concerned for her safety, which seemed to be unusual. At least, for him.
Sybil kept her eyes on Brom. “I'm sorry, Brom. The weather is getting to me. I am going to rest in my room for a bit.” She used him to support herself as she stood up. “Please help the prince get ready.”
Though she could have gone into town, she asked that Shaw handle her duties there. Sybil refused to leave her room, choosing to spend her time reading or attempting to think up a new golem to make. Then again, without Stonetoe at the barracks, she didn’t feel as strongly of an urge to create anything intricate. There was something about knowing she might get in trouble that made it more fun.
By the time she was forced to leave her room, it was well into the afternoon. Duxton had made a compromise, stating that Sybil could have more say in what she did as long as she went on a walk with him around the garden. She chose to bring a parasol with her this time, so that she might beat him on the head if he said anything she didn’t like.
After a long moment of silence, Duxton chose to be the first to speak. “You do realize that you're still going to have to wake me up tomorrow,” he said sternly.
“Not if you're going to be naked,” she snarled back.
“I wasn’t naked, I was wearing underlinen,” he hissed back.
“Oh? You get to choose your own underwear and when to wear it?” She rolled her eyes. “What a luxury. It must be so nice.”
Duxton didn't growl at her attitude. He smirked. “I should throw out your dresses next. There are plenty of other items I would rather see you in.”
His eyes looked her up and down again, finally resting his gaze on her chest as they continued to walk. Sweat had started to build up, making her collarbone glisten in the light. The sight of that was particularly distracting and he saw now harm in staring there since she kept her blocked with a parasol.
Sybil didn't notice where he was staring until he stumbled on the path in front of him. His arms flailed for a moment as he came to a stop, then he turned to stare at her chest again. He was completely unashamed by his own behavior, even going as far as pointing at her this time.
Sybil let out a gasp and put her arms over her chest. “What is wrong with you?!”
“Where is your necklace?” He gestured to her neck again, where only a colorful string of glass beads were. “You're wearing the wrong one.”
“I'm not sure what you mean.” Her brows furrowed. “My identification pendant in my room. I don’t see the point in wearing it when I don’t plan on leaving.”
“The other pendant.” He tapped the center of her collarbone. “It was always sitting right here. The Fogbloom pendant.”
Normally it was tucked beneath whatever clothing she was wearing. “I didn’t want to risk losing it, so I left it at the barracks.” Which was the truth. Considering how she often found herself in trouble, she didn’t want to risk losing it this time.
He shook his head. “Don't give me that. You and I both know that Erskine Fogbloom’s pendant held some sort of value to you. I rarely see you without it, so where did it go?” She didn't give him a response. “Answer me!”
“It’s something I had gotten from my mother and I honestly didn’t wish to risk losing it. I’m not even a member of the Fogbloom family.” She fiddled with the glass beads around her neck. “Besides, I have my own stupid pendant and my Braytons identification plaque. I’m bound to lose one of them if I carry the lot of them with me everywhere.”
“The plaque you conveniently forget to bring with you everywhere.” He shook his head again as Sybil blinked several times. She had forgotten to pack it. “...” Duxton frowned. “What do you mean you’re not a member of the Fogbloom family? Where did your mother get that pendant?”
“Why the questions? You're the one who was ordered to watch me. Wouldn't you know who was related to the royal family and who wasn't?”
Duxton was made even more confused by the statement. “You truly got it from your mother? From Lady Larkin? ... Your father isn’t a Fogbloom?”
“Why would my father be a Fogbloom?”
“Because the family records of your father’s family were conveniently lost in a cave-in, and Lady Larkin started to work with him for no apparent reason. Your mother, who is obviously an Alcea, likely only began to work with him because he was a Fogbloom.”
Sybil shook her head. “I assure you that the records were actually lost, but I met my grandparents before they died. Neither was a Fogbloom.”
He set a pair of fingers on his temple. “I have a headache... I'm going to excuse myself from this conversation now. Be sure to have dinner ready by the time Shaw returns.”
Sybil watched as Duxton walked off in a daze. Why was he so troubled? How much did he know? Duxton already knew who her mother was, so maybe it had to do with why Lydia was in Carapace. Though, if she asked, Sybil doubted he would give her a clear answer.
Whatever it was, it made Duxton back off. He didn’t make her get up in the morning or have anything to do with him other than reports and the occasional dance lesson. The prince had buried himself in his work. It seemed like whatever joy he had in being here had been drained from him, and he simply wished to leave as soon as possible.
Sybil also buried herself in her work. There were people to meet, the occasional party to host, but otherwise, Shaw was her trusted partner and guard in this. He said little and gave good advice, which was more than Duxton had ever done for her. Still, the days dragged on and on. All this pretending to be a noble was beginning to tax her sanity.
Her salvation finally came during the Iath feast day festival in Blackmount. She gladly put on her ridiculous hat with the overly wide brim and stepped out of the carriage. Two weeks had passed since she first arrived, and her stupid horse was still missing. This day was the one brief escape she had, at least until Oyster was found and she could run away with him.
At least she will be outdoors and watching people pummel each other. Just like how the barracks was. A sigh of relief washed over her features. Finally. A day where she didn't have to feel like a housewife to a spoiled shut-in. That alone was enough to make this trip worth it.