Martin’s face was impossible to read. It was probably a trait that took decades of practice. Indenuel took another bite, again ignoring social customs. “But that’s not what you’re looking for, is it. You want examples of nobility treating the common folk like scraps that fell off a table. That’s why you’re playing this little game with Adosina, isn’t it? To let her know the sins you keep to yourself in your own class. That despite all your charity, despite your-” Indenuel gave a small laugh that might have sounded cold, “-your comforting words of God’s promised blessings to the poor and the meek, you don’t want Adosina to join the lower class, because you’ve seen how horrible they are treated.” Martin said nothing, even as his gaze was cold and steady. Indenuel’s smile was just as cold. “I myself don’t have any stories of the nobility treating me like a lesser human, but I’m sure Tolomon does.”
“No, I don’t,” he said quietly, focused solely on his plate.
“Yes, you do,” Indenuel said at the same time Nathaniel said it too.
Tolomon and Indenuel both looked over at Nathaniel, his dinner untouched. Indenuel was thinking about Tolomon’s confession from before, but if Nathaniel knew what was going on, he wouldn’t rest until it was brought to an end. Clearly there was something else Tolomon had experienced.
“Nathaniel,” Tolomon started to say in warning. “I have nothing to add to this conversation.”
“Don’t lie, Tolomon. Indenuel’s intentions are in the right place. Adosina ought to know how the nobility treats the common class. You don’t have to tell the full story, but if she is to make this decision and the High Elders give their consent, I don’t want her to suffer any more of a shock than she is certain to have.” Tolomon’s face had turned unreadable. “And if you don’t want to tell it, I will,” Nathaniel said.
Tolomon said nothing. His eyes flitted to Rosa for a moment before he lowered his head and brought his plate closer to him, eating quietly. It was apparently all the permission Nathaniel needed. He turned toward Adosina.
“Tolomon was the best in our class. He beat noblemen who had years of training when he himself didn’t have any. He was, and still is, incredibly gifted with the sword. We will never see another man like him for a thousand years, I guarantee it. And the military almost lost him.” Tolomon looked at no one. “I wasn’t aware of the abuse he took from our classmates. I don’t think I fully understand even still. But it all came to a head when he overheard the generals’ discussing plans of a counterattack and how many troops to add. Tolomon was familiar with the land and interrupted them, telling them exactly the kind of things they could expect, realizing the cartographers failed to mark a ravine. Instead of taking what he had to say to heart, he was whipped ten times in the public square for daring to stand up to Generals and telling them they were wrong. But unfortunately for those Generals, he was right. If they had listened to him, they could have won that battle. See, Tolomon was so familiar with the land because his own town was not that far from it, and when the Oraminians won, they raided his town in victory. While he remained in the dungeon for a week, his family was slaughtered.” Rosa covered her face, giving a shuddering breath. Indenuel looked at Tolomon, who was focused entirely on his dinner. Indenuel didn’t feel heartbreak for his friend. Instead, the anger piled on.
“You’d think that’d be the end of it. But once Tolomon was out of the dungeon, there were students in our class that pushed it too far with their cruel words, and Tolomon beat one of them almost to death. He almost got kicked out of military training, to go home to a war-torn village to try and make his way.” Nathaniel finished the story, finally taking a bite of his dinner.
“Except…” Tolomon said quietly.
Nathaniel glanced up at his friend. “Except what?”
“Come on. That’s not the end of it.” Tolomon picked up a piece of chicken with his fork. “I almost got kicked out of military training except…” Nathaniel did not say anything, which made Tolomon give a tiny snort. “Stupid nobility code won’t let you accept a praise about your character, huh?”
Nathaniel picked up a fork, getting a small bite ready, not looking at anyone. “I stopped them.”
Tolomon swallowed the chicken. “That’s an understatement. They wanted to make an example of me. Placed me in front of everyone, my crimes read out loud to make sure they knew the violent scum of a commoner shouldn’t be given the proper training. Nathaniel marches over, pleading my case, assuring every single member of the board they were making a huge mistake. When they still refused, he took on my punishment in exchange for me staying on in the military.” Tolomon gathered more food on his spoon. “Every night for a week we were beaten instead of having dinner. Not allowed to be healed afterwards. It would have gone on for another week, but High Elder Martin put a stop to that. They couldn’t refuse a High Elder.” Tolomon turned toward Adosina, who was leaning back in her seat, looking deeply troubled by the entire thing. She met his gaze, her eyes more wet than usual. “Nathaniel saved my life, and I want to emphasize I’d met him twice before he decided to use his noble title like that. Very brief encounters, where I was rather rude to him because of how much I resented the nobility. And yet he did all that for me. He’s a good man. There are good and evil people in the nobility, just as there are good and evil people in the common class, as Indenuel’s story has pointed out. You are a good person, Adosina, and you can make a difference in whatever class you are in. But you need to understand the classes are set up to favor those of a more noble blood, and you could do a lot more for society with your titles than giving them up.”
Adosina gave a tiny nod, still looking just as troubled, but it was better she heard this now. “But I love him, Tolomon. How can I possibly choose between doing the best for society, or doing what’s best for myself? If I don’t choose what’s best for myself, how can I ever make a difference in society?”
Tolomon watched her for a moment before tearing his gaze away, staring at his plate, moving his food around. “It is a tough decision, one with no easy answer. I just want you to understand what you might lose if you follow your heart. I do not envy you the choice before you.”
Rosa stood up, her hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes as she hurried out of the room. Nathaniel and Tolomon both watched her go but said nothing.
Adosina glanced at Inessa, the frown still there.
“Inessa?” she asked. Inessa looked up from her plate, almost done. She noticed everyone looking at her before her eyes settled again on Adosina. “Tolomon and Indenuel have told their stories. Seems only fair you should have the same opportunity.”
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She lowered her fork, focused on Adosina. “I have no stories.” She gave Adosina the barest of smiles before returning to her plate. Adosina exchanged a glance with Indenuel before sitting up straighter.
“Inessa,” she said again.
“I don’t have any stories,” she repeated slower, not looking at Adosina.
“Don’t bother her,” Tolomon said quietly. “If she doesn’t want to tell, she doesn’t have to.”
“But… but I know you have stories,” Adosina said.
“She’s not protected like me,” Indenuel whispered.
Adosina frowned, glancing between Indenuel and Inessa. “Protected? What do you mean?”
“I’ll never lose my status,” Indenuel said.
Adosina’s frown deepened. “But… Inessa might?” Indenuel and Tolomon glanced at Inessa who did nothing to meet their gaze. Adosina turned to Martin, her frown turning into a glare. “Api?” He took a careful sip of his wine before setting it down, not saying a word. “Api! Does Inessa have the same protection?”
“The same protection as the Warrior? Of course not.” Martin put on a smile that almost seemed genuine. The kind of smile that you knew was everything it was supposed to be, but the situation was wrong. Like a person smiling at a funeral. “But if Inessa has done nothing wrong in her past, she of course has no need to fear her loss in status.” Martin continued to smile at Inessa, who refused to look at him. “I know so little about you, Inessa. It might benefit us all to learn a bit more.”
She finally tore her gaze from her plate to look at Martin, the distinct fear in her eyes. “Martin, perhaps we should end the conversation,” Indenuel said.
“Nonsense. Where did you grow up, Inessa?” Martin asked.
“It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Indenuel said.
“I will just ask a few innocent questions. I’m not going to dig into anything sensitive,” Martin said. “Where did you grow up?”
Inessa kept glancing between Indenuel and Martin, swaying in her nerves. “A town south of here, sir.” It came out barely a whisper, but no one else at the table was talking.
“Come now, what’s the name of the town.”
Inessa’s wince was almost imperceptible, but Indenuel saw it.
“Venria, sir.”
“Did you receive any education?” Martin asked.
“No, sir.”
“What did you do in your free time in this town just south of here?”
“B-begged on the streets, sir,” Inessa said.
“Martin, she’s had enough,” Indenuel said. He couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Martin shouldn’t be doing this. It was almost as violating as asking her to undress in public, and Indenuel couldn’t stand by and let it happen. The questions were innocent enough, but there was still something wrong.
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Martin asked.
“Seven, sir.”
“Seven siblings? Or seven total including you?”
“E-eight. Eight total.”
“Martin, please,” Indenuel said. He started this conversation, and now he felt responsible for the deeply uncomfortable look in Inessa’s eye.
“And where do you fall? Oldest? Youngest?” Martin asked.
“Second oldest, sir.”
“Ah, the same as Nathaniel, then,” Martin said.
Inessa gave the barest of glances to Nathaniel, who was watching the exchange with concern.
“Who is the father of all your siblings?” Martin asked.
Indenuel felt a punch in the gut at the way the color drained from Inessa’s face. He had been in that position before. The terror of being asked about a father and knowing you have no answer.
“Before you were given to Dalius, what was your Santollian name?” Martin asked.
“Martin, stop this,” Indenuel said, knowing his voice had turned dangerous.
“Father, we’ve learned enough from Inessa,” Nathaniel said.
From the little etiquette he learned, he and Nathaniel were the only ones allowed to go up against Martin, to ask him to stop. Though, not even Nathaniel could. He was just doing it because he always did the right thing. It wasn’t just Inessa showing unease. All the women looked deeply uncomfortable with Martin asking her these questions, and Tolomon’s face had turned unreadable again.
Martin paused, long enough for him to give another far too sweet smile in Inessa’s direction. “Of course. Now, Inessa, with someone of such a humble background, can I offer you anything? Possibly someone to help you strengthen your tree powers? I know quite a few tree talkers who would be happy to help you explore your gift.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving her.
Inessa looked as though she would do anything else than accept his charity. “Actually, sir, I’d r-rather learn how to r-read.”
Martin set down his glass, the smile still there. “Oh, yes. Forgive me. I did not realize. I shall alert Riel about it at once. When we’re all settled again after the holiday, I’ll be sure to have him start teaching you. It is such a pity the lower class do not gain such an education, don’t you think, Addy?”
“Martin, stop it!” Indenuel said.
He felt it, burning in his gut, the hurt that turned into a spike of corruption. Nathaniel, Tolomon, and Martin all turned toward him. Martin’s smile dropped, Nathaniel’s eyebrows shot up, and Tolomon’s unreadable face cracked to reveal concern. Indenuel glared at Martin, knowing full well the corrupted pain started to grow inside him as he glared at the High Elder over healing.
Inessa stood and left the dining hall. No curtsey, no asking to be excused. Adosina gave her father a good glare before following her.
Tolomon grabbed Indenuel’s wrist and squeezed at calculated places, making his grip slacken on the knife he did not realize was tight in his palm. It clattered to the table before Tolomon pressed his wrist flat against the tablecloth. “Breathe.”
He did, turning away from Martin to help him not be so angry. He felt another hand on his, and looked up to see Nathaniel, whose face was full of concern. Indenuel dropped his gaze, feeling shame trickle in, and the anger ebbing away, the corruption easing out of his body.
Nathaniel tore his gaze from Indenuel to stare at Martin as though he was seeing a stranger. “You’re asking her to call you sir?”
It was Sara’s turn to leave without asking or a curtsey. Ana at least gave a curtsey before she left.
“Has she?” Martin asked, finishing the last of his dinner. “I hadn’t notice.”
“You notice every time,” Nathaniel said.
Martin stood before shrugging. “I’m getting older, son. I can’t hear quite as well.” He left, and Nathaniel watched him go, speechless.
***
Inessa ran into her room, breathing deeply, covering her mouth, trying to control it. It couldn’t just be her. Martin was acting weird around everyone; she was just the person he could control. What happened tonight must have been some sort of outlet. Residual anger for finding her and Indenuel talking at the ball. With Kiam winning more battles, Adosina demanding she lose her titles, Sara practically not speaking to him, and Inessa flirting with Indenuel. So many things out of his control, and she was the outlet he could use to vent his frustrations. His verbal dressing down of her in front of everyone was simply him trying to once again maintain control. It happened with every other High Elder.
But she thought Martin was a better man than that. She had taken plenty of Fadrique’s beatings with a strong upper lip, but this. His simple grilling of questions with none of his usual kindness was so humiliating.
“Inessa?” Adosina asked, giving a gentle knock. “It’s me.”
Inessa cracked the door open, and that was all Adosina needed to walk into her room and gather her into a hug.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Inessa said, the tears coming the moment Adosina squeezed her in a hug.
“Are you alright?” Adosina asked.
“I don’t know,” Inessa said, hugging Adosina tightly. “I don’t know. He did nothing wrong, but… but…”
“I never should have asked you. It’s my fault.” Inessa began to sob, holding onto Adosina, covering her mouth. “Neither one of us is to blame. This is all my father’s fault. Understand? You did nothing wrong. You never have.” Inessa couldn’t talk. She just sobbed, and Adosina kept a tight hold of her.
He acted like the others. Whenever their pride took a blow, the other High Elders would take out their frustrations by humiliating their concubines. She thought Martin was different. But apparently not.