“Margret!” Valerie started to hop up and down as she waved her hands. “You're falling behind! I thought you said you were born among the hills. One little cliff shouldn't tire you out!”
Sybil wasn't feeling tired, but she was taken aback by the view. She adjusted her glasses and gave Valerie a timid nod. “It's getting dark. Isn't it dangerous to be up here?”
A group of them from the women’s dorms had “borrowed” a governess cart and had ridden it up a small cliffside path. They had to abandon it when they realized that the path was becoming difficult for the horse to navigate. Sybil thought this was an idiotic and dangerous venture, but went along because she was worried one of them might get themselves injured.
But the journey did nothing but stress her out. It's not like she could help them if the need arose. Her role was to be as small and as unnoticeable as possible. That didn’t stop her from being worried.
Valerie called back to her. “It's okay! Tabitha was in the squire program at Petalmist! She even made it to the final round of the Braytons exams. She’ll beat up anyone who tries to come after us!”
“Damn straight I will!” Tabitha held up her short sword triumphantly.
Her grip on the weapon was off. The sword was also poorly maintained, covered in scratches and chips from being improperly sharpened, and it was rusted from never being oiled. If bandits attacked them now, they'd be doomed.
“That isn't appropriate language for a lady,” argued Sybil as she lifted up her skirt. It was getting in the way of moving quickly. Besides, being attacked was the least of her worries. She was more worried about one of them slipping up and falling off the narrow path.
It wasn’t long before they finally reached a resting point and settled down on the nearby benches. Nothing about this outing was appropriate for a lady, which is why they wanted to do it in the first place. That had insisted that young adults should take pride in causing trouble, then claimed that sneaking out was the worst kind of trouble. It would be terrible if they were caught now. Absolutely terrible.
Though the reality of the situation was that they were walking along a public and often used hiking trail. If they were caught, they would be scolded for abandoning their cart and escorted back to the women's dorms. Even if they weren’t caught, they may as well still be in trouble. It was past their curfew and the headmistress was strict about them all being indoors by nightfall. None of them actually cared about that this time. Such outings only happened every few full moons, after all.
Sybil didn't care either. She zoned out their idle gossip while she stared off at the city. It was a strange experience. In Carapace, she preferred the view from underneath it. Here, she could look down and be taken aback by the beauty of it all.
The middle class and lower lived at the top of the towering cliffs and the plateau beyond, but the higher class held onto the vast beach below. Among the mansions were the university they attended, but the most striking building was built directly in the water.
The palace of Fogbloom. Capital of Lustro.
It was formed by the large spikes of obsidian that jutted out of the ocean. A cluster of them were gathered together in what looked like a round thistle flower. The constant fog that covered the Violet coastline curled about the palace, blocking the view of the lower stones, and making it impossible for ships to approach. Any water beyond that was glistening under the stars and moonlight. Sybil felt entranced by the sight. There was something so familiar and beautiful about it, but she couldn’t place her finger as to why.
“Here you go, Margret.” Valerie placed a ring of flowers on top of her head. Sybil gently pulled it off and looked at it.
“What are these?” They appeared to small white flowers that were similar in shape to buttercups.
“Fogbloom blossoms,” replied Valerie with a smile. “It's what gives the city its name, and the Fogbloom family were named after them. They're everywhere along the coast in autumn.” She sat down on the bench next to Sybil. “It’s nice that they bloomed early this year. Normally it's closer to winter, right before the frosts start to happen.”
Sybil put the crown on Valerie's head. “Thank you, but I think this suits you more than it does me.” The two smiled at each other before looking off at the view together.
When Duxton told her that he was going to hide her in the capital, she thought he was crazy. There was so much to prepare in order to ensure her safety, and he somehow managed to do it in less than a week. He did nothing but assure her that this plan was foolproof. No one would think to look for her in here, yet her days were full of instances where she was convinced she was about to be caught.
And until that day came, her name was Margret Miller. She was from Greenmount and had received a scholarship to Petalmist's university branch for an essay she had written about... Something. Maybe it was a book analysis, she couldn't remember at the moment. It was never actually written. Some money was exchanged between hands and that’s how she had gotten in.
Margret Miller was seventeen years old. Her birthday was in early autumn. She was quite interested in knitting, but she could never get the hang of it. Her new best friend was Tabitha Rorer, a “rough and tumble girl” who had failed to get enter Braytons the year before. Tabitha’s parents had sent her to university in hopes that it would make her more feminine.
Valerie Miss was Margret’s other best friend. She was a twenty-two year old who had never met her fiance. There was a sudden change to their plans when he was unexpectedly accepted into knight training. His parents were backing Valerie’s education until he graduated. Since she was the oldest at the dorms, most considered her to be their leader.
They were all enrolled in the same university program. Part of their education was independence, which is why they lived in the dorms instead of with families. Normally they would have a roommate, but Sybil was able to convince them to let her have a room to herself. She lied and said she was easily tired because of some underlying health issues. It was enough to get people to leave her alone on most days.
But privacy was the only thing that kept Sybil sane. Because after they returned home and had gotten yelled at by the headmistress, she could return to her room and tear off everything that made her Margret. This involved wiping off her makeup and taking off her wig of light brown hair. Underneath was her own hair, which was still rather short from when she had cut it off, and it sometimes shifted between black and golden blonde. As of late, it had been staying the blonde color.
Luckily no one would judge her for having a disguise. Wigs and horsehair extensions were considered fashionable in Fogbloom. They were healthier than toxic hair dyes, and could be switched out for different colors often. Doctors in the city even promoted the use of wigs, as it helped prevent the spread of lice. Some others preferred extensions, which allowed for colorful braided designs mixed with blonde, white, and darker tones.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
They also served as advertisements. Plain wigs were for married women or younger girls, while using beet juice to dye white extensions denoted seeking a husband. Blue meant that they were being courted. Nearly everyone at the dorms had hairstyles that were nearly screaming their availability. Tabitha refused to come out of her room until she had perfectly braided in her pink extensions.
Sybil was fine with being a plain girl with no interest in men, but it didn’t make her feel comfortable. She’d rather go without a wig, but she couldn’t explain why some days she was blonder than others. Nor could she explain why her eyes had turned gray, the same shade as Lydia Larkin’s. Luckily, she was still new here when that happened, so no one seemed to notice.
A knock on her door made Sybil yank a cap over her head before she buried anything suspicious into the drawers of her shelf. She headed to the door and only opened it wide enough for one of her eyes to peek out. Valerie was there again, like she often was whenever she was plotting something. Sybil muttered a quiet, “evening,” and gave a meek nod of her head.
“Since there's no school tomorrow, we've decided to become true rebels and stay up all night long.” Valerie was buzzing with excitement. “Quilting party in my room! You're going to love it, Margret! We’ll all be there this time!”
No. Anything but that. Please no. At first, she was worried that the Fogbloom girls would be like Gwyn or Ivy, but every single one of them was as sociable as Tish. The last thing she wanted was to have another sleepover with them. All they ever seemed to talk about were boys and they all had incorrect theories to what sex was like. This was so much worse than the girl’s nights that Tish was always trying to have.
Sybil almost wanted to be kidnapped again. Almost.
“I really shouldn’t start trouble, Valerie. I'm here on scholarship. I can’t do anything to jeopardize that,” she whispered. While being Margret, she found it easiest to pretend to be Anais. So far it was working out quite well. The only ones that bothered her were the ones who insisted everyone needed to participate in every group activity.
“That's the best part! We got permission!” Valerie held her hand to the side of her mouth. “But we're going to pretend that we didn't, because we're being rebellious.”
If she said no again, more of them were going to show up. They might even insist on using her room for it, since there was more space. Sybil glanced at her room. It was a mess. They would force their way in and start cleaning up for her, then start asking all sorts of awkward questions.
She especially didn’t want them to find her golem journals. Duxton had said not to bring her old ones, but she made an oopsie and made new ones because that's how bored she was. Poetry did nothing to exercise her brain, and she was going to run herself up a wall if she couldn’t do any math.
“... Let me fix my hair first? It won’t take too long. I promise.” She had to go through the effort of putting on her wig back on and pinning it firmly in place.
It wasn’t long before she was sitting in a chair with other girls as they ate dainty tea sandwiches and created colorful squares of fabric. Such moments as these made Sybil wonder if this wasn’t all part of some elaborate prank. Duxton was going to ride in here any moment, laughing his head off.
Abandoned for weeks without any communication. Only told to try her best and not get noticed… But it had to be a prank, and Sybil was going to murder Duxton for it. Women’s studies was nothing more than housewife training. The girls here always claimed that it wasn’t like that, oh, but it do be like that. As Zaniyah would put it, it be like that very much.
Sybil’s classes involved poetry reading, home management, and art appreciation. There was even a tasting class designed to train their palettes. This involved sipping different teas and wine and making notes for which foods they paired best with. She wouldn’t mind if she were allowed to swallow anything, but she had to spit it all out to avoid the extra calories and alcohol.
At least the quilting part wasn’t so bad. Stabbing something a thousand times over had a way of calming her down. Glancing over to the others work, she frowned at the elegant squares the other girls were doing. They had made vivid blocks of birds, insects, or flowers. Others had made complicated mosaics of abstract shapes. Her square was just a series of diamonds and squares which weren’t even cut evenly. Fabric was so much more temperamental than metal was.
“Did you hear that Prince Duxton is looking for a wife?” Valerie looked up at the others with a grin on her face. Sybil scoffed loudly, but quickly pretended that she had coughed.
One of the other girls nodded her head. “I thought he had gone undercover at Braytons to find himself a stronger girl, but father told me that the court rejected the woman he found there because she was… Well, sterile.”
Valerie frowned at the thought. “That is unfortunate, but I did get some inside information from my special little source.” She leaned forward and whispered loudly. “He’s planning to visit us during his next visit to Fogbloom.”
“Are you serious?” Tabitha looked up from the collection of hearts she was stitching. “I’ve always thought he would choose a Daughter of Iath. Everyone always said he had one of their nuns with him whenever he attended parties. They always left together before any of the fun began.”
She must be talking about Sena. Showing up to a party only long enough to prove he made an appearance was something Sybil had seen Duxton do many times. Turns out that that was a long-standing habit of his. Sybil smirked at the thought. They must have been happy together in those days. It was weird to think that there was a time when Duxton was content with life.
But she also doubted that Duxton would choose to endanger her by showing up here. Just his presence alone would be enough to disrupt classes. Maybe even cancel them. That would give Sybil enough time to find someplace high to perch. All by herself, with just her journal for company. She felt like she was nearing a breakthrough on her latest design. This could be her chance to finish it.
“We should make sure Margret runs into him.” Valerie gasped, even though she was the one who had said it. “How lovely would that be? The small village girl who charms the dashing prince… I can just see it now.” The other girls sighed dreamily at the thought.
“Oh, I don't think that would be for me.” Sybil was hasty with her response. “I'm not sure how suited I would be to enter a court, let alone even speak to a prince or any noble for that matter.”
Tabitha tilted her head. “Then why did you come to Fogbloom then?”
That's right. All of them were here because they wanted to be set up with husbands of high standing. Wanting anything else must seem like insanity to them.
Sybil faked a smile. “I was thinking that I wanted a... Merchant?”
That answer seemed to please Tabitha. She nodded at the thought. “Marry an ugly merchant and have beautiful children with the handsome caravan guard.” She then smiled widely. “Or marry a handsome one and travel with him! That sounds like something I would want to do.”
“I'd rather marry for love,” muttered Valerie. “Or a local business owner. Maybe even one of the workers at the palace, like one of their scribes... Not a soldier though. Anyone but a soldier.”
Valerie would be shocked to learn that Sybil had actually met her soon to be husband. Out of anyone it could be in the world, it had to be Udell Tardival. Sybil wanted to tell her to flee from that terrifying man who loved to hit people with magic meathooks, but the constraints of her disguise forbade her from doing so. Then again, he hit people with magic meathooks. There had to be some sort of way for her to warn the poor woman.
Yet Valerie was none the wiser. Their parents were the ones who arranged her wedding, and she had been under the care of the Tardival family ever since. Sometimes she liked to pretend to be happy that she was marrying a brave knight who had received a weapon from Volo Refuge That poor girl though. That poor, poor girl… And it also made Sybil worry about where those hooks had come from. Why were they ever crafted in the first place?
“The best thing about a soldier is that you'll only put up with one bad night with him,” said Tabitha reassuringly. “He'll die in the war and you'll get to keep the estate and the money that comes with it. Then you can marry for love.”
Valerie wasn't calmed by the thought. Sex was an enigma. Some were curious, while others were terrified by the concept. Several had heard that it was painful. None of them were as “pure-hearted” as those in the core, but Sybil was nervous whenever the subject came up. She had been called a whore a few times for something as simple as holding hands with Zyris. What would these girls call her if they found out about her former marriage to Alton?
“But a prince,” replied one of the girls. “Imagine it. He could ask you to be queen during his coronation. How lovely would that be?” A unanimous sigh escaped them all. All except for Sybil, who had to take a sip of her tea to prevent herself from gagging.