Indenuel and Tolomon went downstairs. Indenuel personally went through the motions, smiling at Sara as she chattered about how much healthier he was looking, but planning on still giving him plenty of food to eat before rushing off into the kitchens. Martin approached, smiling, and Indenuel couldn’t help but think how Martin would feel about Navir once he was told. Would this shatter him?
“Hello, my boy,” Martin said, giving him a hug that made him stiffen. He tried to force himself to relax, to try and hug back.
“You’ve been a stranger in your own house, sir,” Tolomon said.
“Yes, that is unfortunately true,” Martin said with a laugh. “I’ve had a lot of work to do.”
“No rest for High Elders it seems,” Tolomon said.
“No rest for Graduates, either. When’s the last time you’ve seen your family?” Martin asked.
Tolomon shrugged. “Oh, not for a decade at least. My sister knows the demands of my job, sir.” This pained Indenuel far more than he wanted to admit, and it was a struggle to not show it on his face.
Martin smiled, patting Tolomon’s shoulder. “One day I will get you to just call me Martin, mark my words.”
“Impossible, sir,” Tolomon said.
“Come, let’s go eat. I for one am starving,” Martin said, leading them into the dining hall. Indenuel felt himself squirm. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t pretend everything was fine. He didn’t want to sit and eat with the knowledge that Navir was responsible for a countless number of murders.
Tolomon grabbed his arm as he gave Martin a smile. “We’ll be in there in a moment. I’ve got to talk to Indenuel.”
“Of course.”
Tolomon watched Martin leave, then looked at Indenuel. “Relax around Martin, please.”
“How can I? After what you told me,” Indenuel whispered.
“Martin doesn’t know, and this is a problem too big to deal with it right now,” Tolomon said, glancing around. “We’re going to eat dinner, be good guests, and send the children back to school before we go home. Then once the war is done, we will plan the best course of action to make Martin aware of what is happening.”
Indenuel rubbed his face, then up through his hair. “How do you do this? This is impossible.”
“I should have waited until after the girls left,” Tolomon said, rubbing the back of his head. “But I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t chase after their carriage to make sure they got to school safely.” Tolomon pulled Indenuel’s hands out of his hair before doing his best to comb his hair back to where it once was. “Say little, be gracious.”
“Why did you tell me any of this if I’m just supposed to go on pretending it isn’t happening?” Indenuel asked.
“Because now is not the time to fix it. We need to win the war first,” Tolomon said.
“And survive,” Indenuel mumbled.
Tolomon nodded. “And survive.”
This was feeling more impossible to do every moment. Tolomon ushered him into the dining hall.
Speak little, be gracious, speak little, be gracious, Indenuel told himself.
He practically ran into Inessa.
“Oh, forgive me, Indenuel,” she said, giving a curtsey.
“Inessa,” Indenuel said, giving a bow. He hadn’t seen her all day, and now here she was, in that purple dress again. “What a lovely dress you have on.”
Inessa smiled brightly, giving a short twirl. “Why thank you. I had a feeling you didn’t get a good enough look at it last time, so I wore it again.” Indenuel smiled, trying his best to make it seem genuine, but it faltered. Inessa’s own smile dropped. “Indenuel?”
“I hear you are the reason why Tima is the richest dressmaker in all of Santollia,” Indenuel said, keeping the subject on her so she could stop asking questions about him.
“Oh, no, it is Tima entirely. Her skills of making beautiful dresses within the concubine laws are what made her prosperous,” Inessa said.
“There shouldn’t be any laws like that in the first place,” Indenuel said.
“What was that?” Inessa asked.
“Dinner?” Indenuel asked, feeling himself strain against the need to tell her exactly what he thought of the concubine law. “I am getting hungry.”
“Don’t let Sara hear you say that,” Inessa said.
Indenuel again tried to laugh, to make it sound genuine as they walked into the dining hall. He saw Martin watching them closely with a frown, but Indenuel immediately parted from her and sat down at his spot so Martin could stop looking at him. Tolomon sat right next to him, since Nathaniel was in Tolomon’s usual spot, next to Rosa. Which made Indenuel realize Tolomon was probably always sitting in Nathaniel’s spot.
“I’ve sent the children their dinners in the nursery. I wanted tonight to be a dinner for the adults,” Sara said. “Nathaniel’s last dinner of the holiday.”
“Oh, right, my last dinner to spend it away from my children,” Nathaniel said, giving Sara a wink.
Sara laughed. “I haven’t seen you all day! We’ll just have a nice, quiet dinner and-” Adosina walked in, cutting Sara off. Indenuel was straightening his napkin as he stared, confused. Adosina was wearing a simple, homespun dress. She kept her face straight, walking in and sitting next to Indenuel, straightening her hair that was done in a simple braid. Like a farmer’s wife.
Right. The beseeching, Indenuel thought. Something must have happened between Adosina, Elias, and the High Elders, and he guessed it couldn’t be good. Indenuel knew what a fight smelled like, and it was thick in the air as he glanced in Martin’s direction. Martin kept a lot hidden, but there was no denying the darkening of his glare or the whitening of his knuckles. Indenuel winced as he turned away, waiting for the fight to happen.
“Addy,” Martin said quietly. “Go change into something more presentable, please.”
“What is so horrible about this dress, Api,” Adosina said. “Is it because it belongs to a woman of a lower class? Is that why you hate it.”
Martin’s face turned cold.
“Perhaps Indenuel should say the prayer on the meal and we can get started,” Ana said quietly.
Indenuel was aware that sitting next to Adosina and having Martin at the head of the table, he and Tolomon were sitting right between them. Tolomon nudged Indenuel, who closed his eyes, saying the prayer, everyone chiming in with “God be with us,” at the end.
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The soup was placed down and Tolomon took a bite before Indenuel began to eat, trying not to show how much his hands trembled.
Speak little, be gracious. Speak little, be gracious.
He wasn’t going to last. Martin and Adosina were glaring at each other, and they had only each taken two bites.
“Addy, perhaps you should do as your father says,” Sara said.
“No,” Adosina said.
“Please. It’s Nathaniel’s last dinner here, and I wanted it to be a lovely experience,” Sara said.
“Oh? And when do I get to have what I want?” Adosina asked. “How old do I have to be before my needs are met?”
“When you start acting more your age,” Martin said carefully through gritted teeth.
“Mother, Father,” Nathaniel said quietly. “I honestly don’t mind. Don’t send Adosina away to change. It’s a lovely dress, Addy.”
“Thank you, Nathaniel. I’m so glad you were finally able to meet Elias at the ball the other night. What did you think of him?” Adosina was playing this entire conversation like the game it was, figuring out where her allegiances were. Nathaniel played it cool, giving his little sister a smile.
“I have always admired farmers. There are many qualities he possesses that is similar to others I have met. Humble, kind, hardworking,” Nathaniel said.
Indenuel closed his eyes, taking a steady breath as he found himself eating his soup quicker than normal. This would be fine. He could let them have their conversation, let Adosina and Martin play their little game, and he could be ignored.
“And what would you think of him as a brother through marriage?” Adosina asked.
“Enough, Addy,” Martin said, his voice becoming more emotionless, and therefore more frightening.
“It’s a fair question. Shouldn’t we also hear Nathaniel’s opinion on the matter? I’m simply trying to understand how my entire family feels about Elias. I’ve been hearing you and Ami’s opinion far too much,” Adosina said.
Indenuel was done with his soup in record time. He almost felt guilty getting the main course well before everyone else was done. The chicken and cheese wrapped in some sort of breading was absolutely amazing, and unfortunately quite hot, so he was forcing himself to slow down. He wanted nothing more than to stuff it all in his mouth and excuse himself.
“I see no reason why he should, considering you never gave your opinion on Nathaniel and Rosa’s marriage when it happened,” Martin said.
“Because I was four!” Adosina said being the first to give into anger.
“Addy, think of Indenuel and Tolomon,” Sara said.
“Again, Ami, you’re always asking me to think of others. I understand the sentiment, but there must come a time when my own needs must be met.”
“Addy,” Sara said again.
“Fine. Indenuel? Tolomon? What do you think of my dress? Is it insulting?” Adosina asked.
Indenuel had half his cheek full of food. All eyes turned toward him.
Speak little, be gracious, speak little, be gracious.
“It’s lovely,” he said through the side of his mouth, focusing on his plate. Tolomon didn’t look, but gave a short nod of agreement.
“There you are. No one at this table is annoyed with my dress but you two,” Adosina said.
Indenuel skewered way too many asparaguses onto his fork, stuffing them into his mouth.
“Change, Addy,” Martin said, again his voice cold and emotionless.
“No, Father. That would make me incredibly vain. One would get the impression I think far too highly of my dresses,” she said with bite.
Martin’s fingers tightened around his spoon. He and Adosina glared at each other, waiting for the other to look away. Indenuel wanted to back away, as he was in the line of sight.
Indenuel chewed the food he’d stuffed in his mouth, feeling ridiculous.
“Addy, Father,” Nathaniel said, all of the warmth needed to pour into two incredibly cold individuals. “Please, put your pride aside for one evening. Mother has made a delicious meal, one you both would enjoy.”
Adosina picked up her spoon, still glaring at Martin. Silence descended on the table, but it was still quite cold.
Indenuel remembered Adosina and Elias at the ball. They seemed so happy together. He also remembered what Tolomon said, about how some people with far too much power treated the commoners. A part of him still believed Adosina was making a mistake trying to get her status revoked. The common class was hard, almost impossibly so, but it was hard because of people like Martin. And it was hard because people like Adosina could never truly understand what it was like. After all, it had taken him months of being spoiled by the upper class for him to realize how bad it was for the Oraminians, both the tree talkers and the speakers of the dead. True, Adosina wasn’t an Oraminian, but it was still hard. She would be ignored as a farmer’s wife. This was all some game to her, with no idea the actual consequences. Martin knew, though. He must have. Which was why he held such a tight grip over this with no actual desire to change the rules to help the poor class.
Indenuel finally finished chewing everything in his mouth and swallowing as more people started their main course. Martin finished his soup, somehow still glaring at Adosina, who was somehow still glaring back.
“Alright, change of subject then,” Martin said, his gaze still fixed on Adosina. “Tell us, Indenuel, what was it like growing up in the poor class?”
Adosina’s glare somehow darkened further. Indenuel winced as Tolomon gave him a nervous glance.
“Father,” Nathaniel said. “That wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“On the contrary. Indenuel will be twenty in two more days. It’s a common practice to hear stories of his life as part of the celebration,” Martin said.
Indenuel tried not to stuff more food in his mouth.
“That’s not the real reason why you asked,” Nathaniel said. “Both of you are letting your anger take over.”
“It’s nothing more than a political game, Nathaniel. I don’t expect you to know how to play it,” Martin said.
Martin had no anger, no emotion, just coldness. Adosina and Martin would eventually use Indenuel as a piece in their game, and yes, it made him mad, but this was different. The look of stillness on Nathaniel’s face as he did his best to not let that insult show on his noble face made Indenuel’s blood start to boil.
Rosa about said something, but Nathaniel grabbed her hand, giving a quick shake of his head as he focused on his plate. Rosa shook her hand away as she picked up her fork and knife, sawing her chicken and cheese, biting her tongue. Indenuel stabbed another piece of asparagus, making it scrape across the plate. Martin completely ignored the exchange, instead finally tearing his gaze from Adosina to look at Indenuel, and he stared right back. Stared at this man who had no idea what it was like to have nothing. He refused to play his game the way he wanted him to play it.
Tolomon nudged him. “Say little, be gracious.”
Indenuel saw Rosa, who was still biting her tongue, glaring at her plate, not allowed to say what was on her mind before his eyes finally fell on Inessa. Quiet, obedient Inessa. Asked to do unspeakable things with Martin because she wasn’t allowed to have a voice, either. He wanted to stay in Martin’s good graces, what with the information he’d learned from Tolomon. Martin needed to remain his ally, but even if he didn’t know about how many people the common Graduates murdered, Martin still had his own list of sins.
Indenuel ate his asparagus, then met Martin’s gaze. Met the High Elder that had done too much with a smile on his face. Who did not realize the kind of Hell was created for the lower class. He better know now.
“The earliest memory I have was when I was three,” Indenuel said, tearing his gaze away from Martin and looking at his plate. “I was walking with my mother. It must have been summer, because it was warm enough, I didn’t need shoes.” Indenuel skewered another asparagus. “Not that I had any to begin with.”
Martin gave Adosina a poignant look. She glared back at her father. Indenuel took a smaller, more noble bite of the asparagus, swallowing it quickly. “I remember because it’s the day I learned what bitch meant.” If the table was still before, it was practically frozen now. He knew the dirtiness of the word, obviously, but if Martin wanted to know what his life was like, then Indenuel didn’t see why he had to censor anything. “See, a full-grown man pushed my mother to the ground and called her a whore for walking too close to him, a respectable, church going individual. Those were his words. When I started to cry, he shoved me too, calling me a bastard child of a sinful bitch.” Sara covered her mouth. “I screamed all the way home. It hadn’t hurt when I fell. Just a bit of dirt to brush off, but I sensed the injustice, even at that age. It was my mother’s first lessons to me in manners. I must never call a woman a bitch, and I must also never imply that a man is a son of one. It is such an ugly, degrading word, and my mother swore she would slap me hard if I was ever caught saying that to someone else.” Indenuel took a sip of his wine. “The irony, of course, is my mother did nothing while the villagers called her one. Bitch, slut, whore, witch. All those words at one point were written on our door with pig’s blood. They could call her whatever they wanted, but I must stay above it all. Which is another way of saying I was supposed to shut my mouth and let it happen. Despite the nooses that would appear in our tree during the nights. Or the time a makeshift doll was found hanging from one of the nooses with chunks of my mother’s hair sewn into it. Or when, on numerous occasions, she’d be dragged to our council made up entirely of men where they would force her to disrobe to prove she didn’t have the mark of the devil on her. The times she’d come home from those council meetings were the only times my mother would beat me. I knew it was from embarrassment. The anguish at having to prove she was clean of the devil’s mark in order to keep me hidden. So, I let my mother beat me, because she’d always apologize for it afterwards.”
Indenuel looked at Martin, tearing the head off the asparagus with his teeth and chewed, ignoring the social etiquette and talked with food in his mouth. “It still hurts, though, to have your parent treat you so disrespectfully. Even if they are doing it, in their own twisted way, to help their child. Don’t you think, Martin?”