Look Beyond What You See

I wish I could turn my ears off with these magical abilities, or perhaps stop the tongues of the servants when I pass by—anything so I won’t be able to hear their gossiping. Rumors, once heard, burrow into my brain and stay there, tormenting me with questions of how much of what I’ve overheard is true. And I cannot keep from hearing rumors, anytime I walk from one room to another in this confounded mansion. Rumors about Dmitri and Yekaterina, in particular, float through the air like the fog Giacomo is trying to teach me to create, as if I could focus on such a thing with my mind and my heart so full.

“She was sitting on his lap during their English lessons. He tried to push her off, but she would not be persuaded. I can’t imagine why Their Excellencies let those English lessons go unsupervised,” a maid recounts in the kitchen as I pass by. I’m sure she means to be heard, although probably not by me. She wants to arouse the suspicions of Lord and Lady Berkeley—I hope. But her words make me sick to my stomach. “I can’t believe Lady Berkeley hasn’t heard of Yekaterina’s conduct while she was in Russia. Her own chambermaid told me that Yekaterina was caught naked with her brother’s tutor in a guest bedroom...”

But Dmitri will never fall for her. He couldn’t. He complains nightly about her difficulties learning and that she is not the sharpest weapon in the training room, by far.

“I know that English is a difficult language to learn. My mother complains of this frequently and how every day she discovers something else she didn’t know. My father has flatly refused to learn Russian, and I grew up speaking both Russian and English, but you seem to have been able to teach yourself to speak it passably well,” Dmitri rambles as he paces back and forth in the rooftop garden, massaging his temples with his fingertips.

“Yekaterina has been helping me with some of the finer points of Russian grammar while I balance on a stool and get stabbed with pins,” I tell him placidly. I will not let him know how much his irritation with her pleases me.

“She has her moments of helpfulness, and her Russian is flawless. But this girl must have no gift for languages, else she truly is less than intelligent, because her English hardly progresses despite the hours we spend on it.”

“Perhaps she does not wish to learn because she would like to prolong her lessons with you for as long as possible,” I suggest.

I overheard her admit as such to one of the sewing maids as I passed by the room that has been set aside for wedding preparations. The maids have taken it over with work on my dress and Dmitri’s apparel. We have not started on things for bridesmaids and groomsmen because we have not yet confirmed who will be filling those positions. It’s a bit difficult to nail such things down when one’s wedding has been indefinitely postponed.

“I sincerely hope that is not the case, though I fear you are right. If she does not start to improve soon, however, I will have to speak with my parents about getting her a real English tutor, or else putting Mother in charge of lessons,” Dmitri answers me.

“I’m not sure that would work any better. Yekaterina is terrified of your mother finding fault with her.”

“Most people are.” He shoots me a meaningful glance. He knows that I’m not at all bothered by Zinaida finding fault with me, and I’m sure it confuses him. If he had grown up with Zira and the woman I called Mother, perhaps it would make more sense to him. Zinaida is comparatively non-threatening, even with her elementalism.

“Aerys, for the love of God, will you focus?!” Giacomo demands hotly, spraying me with a gush of cold water for emphasis. I flick my fingers at him and his ropes of blond hair transform into eels. I am not in the mood to deal with him. Giacomo shrieks like a little girl who’s seen a bug and then unleashes a torrent of foul language. I eye him with exasperation for a few moments as he runs in circles, flailing his arms and spouting profanity in multiple languages, before snapping my fingers with a sigh. The eels become ropes of hair again, but they retain a blue-greeny-brown algae colour. The circles and flailing and cursing continue for several more moments, until I engulf him in a cloud of fog and begin to tighten the pressure on the cloud so that it squeezes in around him, thickening the air, making it harder to move and to breathe while obscuring his vision. The flood of obscenity abruptly stops, and then a burst of water opens the fog long enough for him to escape from it.

“So you were paying attention. Splendid,” Giacomo splutters, hacking up half a lung or so. “My apologies for my language. It’s a bit terrifying to have one’s hair turn into snakes--”

“They were eels, and quite harmless. Certainly not worth the ear- and mind-scarring language you have just spouted,” I retort coolly.

“Most of it was in Italian,” he replies with a perplexed expression.

“I studied Italian for several years and am quite fluent in it.”

His confusion increases. “Why?”

“My grandmother deemed it necessary. Perhaps she always intended that I would end up working with someone like you.”

“You mean, with my clan.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps just someone to teach me how to use this magic gift, eventually.”

“How much time did you spend with your grandmother?”

“Not much, really. She and Grandfather rarely visited. Have you ever met her?”

“No, but my parents did. They warned me that she was to be avoided at all costs. She has a nasty reputation, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never left the grounds of the chateau, before I was sent here.”

“You were tutored all your life, then? This isn’t unusual for you?”

“Not in the least, except for the nature of the tutoring. I’ve never had a tutor so apt to get off-task. Were you planning to continue with my combat lessons today?” This is getting more personal than I would like.

“Well, I thought it might be a good idea, but you seem to be fairly distressed and distracted, yourself, and I’m not sure what good further training today would do you. Do you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

“Not particularly.” What I mean is, Not with you. I actually wouldn’t mind discussing it with him, except that I’m trying to avoid the sort of improper conduct that’s occurring between Dmitri and Yekaterina. I know that she’s the one initiating it and that he just doesn’t know how to stop it, but really, I think it is high time that he showed himself a man and made it stop, even if that means setting her on fire or shipping her to Siberia. Malina and I, on the other hand, talk about that Russian strumpet frequently. She has promised to investigate the rumors for me. Until she reports back to me, I am left to torture myself with my own musings about what might be real and what is fiction.

“No? But I could have sworn you were confused and needed help sorting things out. I can only surmise that the newest addition to the Berkeley household, that blonde relative of Lady Berkeley’s, has something to do with whatever is troubling you.”

“Why would you think that? We’ve been getting along beautifully. She’s been helping me learn Russian and has even talked some sense into the couturiers for my wedding dress.”

“Rumor has it that she’s also been attempting to seduce Dmitri at every opportunity.” I gasp theatrically and sink to the ground, clutching my heart in the agony of the realization. “Oh, please. I know you’ve known. It’s impossible for you not to have known. All of the staff are abuzz about it, and you’re anything but dense. I can’t believe that Their Excellencies are still in the dark about it, honestly. Her behavior is only just short of scandalous.”

“It truly is a wonder that they have not yet caught on,” I mutter my agreement.

“And that Dmitri has not yet lost patience with her. One would think that he could have convinced her to leave him alone by now, unless he secretly enjoys her attentions,” Giacomo persists.

“Why would you suggest such a thing?” I whisper, hugging my knees to my chest. I’ve hit upon that thought again and again in my endless thought circles, and I keep burying it in the hopes that it will go away—and then tripping over it when the circle comes around again. Having someone else say it makes it a real possibility. “Has he spoken with you about such things, while you train in the afternoons?”

“I always ask how the morning went, and he always mutters something irritably about wishing he could devote his mornings to more profitable and enjoyable pursuits. But of course, if he does enjoy her attentions, he would not reveal such a thing to me.”

“Of course.” I sigh heavily. Giacomo is being anything but helpful. “If I may be so bold, what is your opinion of our guest from the Motherland?”

Giacomo chuckles. As usual, I cannot quite pinpoint why. “Well, she’s extremely pretty and...voluptuous. But compared to you--”

“Excuse my intrusion,” Malina interrupts suddenly, cutting off what could have been a very inappropriate remark from Giacomo as she bursts into the training room from the secret passage. A sealed packet that resembles a letter of some kind is in her hand. “This letter just arrived for Aerys from Kashmir. I thought she might like to read it right away.”

“Kyla!” I exclaim, leaping up from the ground and rushing towards Malina. We share a brief sisterly embrace before she turns the packet over to me. “Thank you, Malina.”

“No problem. I’ll see you after luncheon for tapestry weaving.” We both make disgusted faces and then laugh at our mutual misfortune as Malina leaves the room through the passage. Giacomo regards me with amusement and befuddlement as I eagerly open the letter.

“Who is this Kyla to whom you are so attached?” he inquires as I settle myself on a bench at the edge of the training area, preferring that to my previous place on the ground.

“The sister to whom I was closest. She left home last year when she was married off, and I haven’t seen her since. We can only communicate by letter, and it’s so dreadfully slow. Actually, faster now than it’s ever been, since my family can no longer tamper with the post, and Malina and Dmitri streamline the process for me, but even so--I hope you don’t mind if I read this now. I simply cannot wait.”

“No, no, by all means, read away. We were not accomplishing much in the way of training, anyway,” he teases. I ignore that remark. He sits down beside me as I begin to read. I ignore him.

To my dearest sister Aerys,

Your concern about my circumstances is deeply touching. Weston has spoken to his parents numerous times about the way they treat me, and each time things have gotten slightly better. With them one must pick one’s battles, Weston tells me, and so he does not push for them to change everything at once. It is frustrating for me, but I do not believe I can get him to try another approach. I do so hate to vex him, you know, and he is quite the stubborn sort.

As for my turning to faith, it began as something to please dear Weston, for his is quite a religious family, but I have found it far more comforting than I ever expected it could be. Moreover, the preacher here has convinced me that the Biblical explanation for the world is most logical of all available explanations, and so it makes intellectual sense to believe. As the drums of war beat louder in Europe, I find more solace in the chapel than anywhere else. It is so comforting to me to know that God has a plan for even this madness.

I have great concern for you, hearing that you have joined a family of warriors of any sort. Please promise me that you will not take part in the fighting, should a war break out, and that you will do everything in your power to keep your fiancé out of danger, as well. Weston has promised me that I can be your Matron of Honor, and in order for that to happen, both of you need to remain alive so that a wedding does in fact take place. To that end, we need to know when the wedding will take place so that we can plan accordingly. I should hate to impose, but we may ask that you send a small group of servants to accompany me to visit you. Weston would come with me, of course, and we would want to stay for at least a month, so that we could help with some of the wedding preparations and have time to rest after such a long journey as it is from Kashmir to Switzerland. I’m sure that, between your resourcefulness and mine, we can work something out. I do so long to see you.

What an awful revelation you have had about our grandparents! Grandfather’s gambling problem is sin enough to stain our family, but for Grandmother to be a practitioner of the Dark Arts! Such depravity ought not to be borne. If there is any way to make them see the error of their ways and turn to the light, I pray that we find it.

And here I come to some unpleasant business. I have heard a rumor that members of the Berkeley family also practice a sort of magic. Is it true? Are you also mixed up in this evil-doing? Oh, I pray not, but I cannot help but wonder. Warriors “of a sort” leaves many questions to be asked, dear Aerys, and I know you never write anything without intention and meaning. Know that I will not love you the less if you are involved in such things, but if you are, we must confront this sin together.

Keep me updated as wedding plans progress, and be thankful for every choice you are permitted to make regarding your wedding. As soon as we arrived in Kashmir, we were rushed off to a church, I was made to change in a back room into the wedding dress they had made for me, and we were married within the hour. It was most unpleasant, and I had no say in any of it. You ought to be glad that you were spared such a plight. But your situation is generally better than mine ever was, and I ought not to be jealous of you.

And do not be angry with me, Aerys dear, for these things I have felt compelled to write. We have always been honest with each other, and I see no reason to change that, even though I have changed since we were separated.

You still have all of my love,

Kyla

“Your closest sister?” Giacomo inquires. He has been reading over my shoulder. I am speechless and can only nod in reply. “Well, I would hate to see anything from a less close sister of yours. Your family is more unpleasant than I thought.”

More unpleasant, indeed. My next letter to Kyla ought to be quite a treat. How do I explain to Kyla that elementals are a separate species, not subject to the rules that govern ordinary humans, even religious ones? How do I tell her of my own magical gifting, which was given to me by forces beyond my control, and which influenced most aspects of my life even before I knew of it? How do I tell her that this gift has placed me with the Berkeleys and makes it possible for me to marry Dmitri?

Even though I am far from pleased with my fiancé, I have to talk to him, and the sooner the better.