Chapter 20 – Reflections

Wherein Valentina considers the past.

On the way back home, nestled in the comfort of Arch-Duke Effyne's private carriage, a golden shield embossed on the side, Valentina considered the events of this afternoon. She started with being greeted by the gate guard and the footman in the hall, and continued all the way through to the maid who had poured her tea.

The staff had been as familiar, as familial, as always. Jasper – sweet Jasper – would take care of her until the day he died. Daisy, who had helped her make herself presentable, with a soft smile and soft hands.

The tears she had denied herself earlier dripped freely down her face. She let them fall. 

In the quiet of the carriage, she remembered days of her childhood where she had pretended either her governess or maid had been her mother. Those fantasies had given her a sense of self-worth. They had been the reason she could sleep soundly at night.

She knew without a doubt that Venlica was her birth-mother, or it would have been too easy to lose herself to the idea that Venlica was the evil stepmother. A fairy-tale witch who didn’t love anyone, least of all herself.

She felt herself being pulled back to the fantasies of the past. In her childhood imaginings, Venlica was the shapeshifting hag that had taken the place of her true mother. She had been able to pull the wool over the eyes of Rhodum of Effyne, but not his blooded daughter. Her true mother, in turn, had been bespelled to forget her children (her brother and sister had been incorporated into this fantasy, although she had never breathed a word of it to them in real life), and yet was bound by magic to take care of the children the hag couldn't stand to be around. 

Valentina wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her breath condensed on the pane in the carriage door, fogging up her view of the outside world. 

And wasn't that part of a bigger truth. 

Wasn't that exactly what the gardener’s son had meant when he rejected her after she told him she was in love with him? He had laughed it off. Told her she had no clue about the world. He had been kind, and so she loved him. 

She had felt so rejected; so motivated to prove, to him, that she was not just the broken result of an uncaring environment. 

Now... She wasn't so sure  she wasn’t exactly what he had claimed: naive and unworldly. 

The carriage halted in front of the house she shared with Bosra and Rose. The footman opened the carriage door for her, offering a steady hand to help her out. Having been instructed previously, he took up the lockbox from under one of the benches, ready to follow her into her home.

"Thank you," Valentina smiled up at the driver, who tapped the rim of his cap in return. As quickly as she dared in her high-heeled shoes, she hurried over the wet path to the front door and opened it with a large, ornate key. 

"Put the box down there," she pointed to a corner by the stairs. "My friend will take it up for me."

The liveried man did as he was told, nodded to her, and left. Seconds after she closed the door behind him, she heard the rattle of wheels – the carriage driving off.

The house was empty and quiet, in a calming way. The sheen on the checkerboard floor indicated that the hired help had done her job in Valentina’s absence.

Hanging her fur-lined cloak on the coat rack, she slipped into the music room and sat down in Bosra's chair. Her heels made a dull thud as they landed on the carpet. She curled up and stared out of the window from the big embrace of the half-giantess’ favoured seat. 

Letting herself drift on a stream of consciousness, she imagined she heard the notes of Rose’s violin fill the air. First some tentative tuning, then practice scales that gradually shifted into an an-dro folkdance.

She smiled, listening to the music in her mind, wondering what it would have been like to grow up with a loving family. What if she had never had to doubt where she belonged? Who would she be?

A big gust of wind slammed up against the window panes, shaking Valentina from her reverie. 

She looked around and noticed time had passed – a considerable amount. It was almost dark outside. Stretching before getting up, she felt rested and refreshed. Turning on the lights as she went, she made her way to the kitchen.

For the first time since she had started trying, she managed to successfully cook by following a recipe. The biscuits smelled heavenly. It was no hardship to take three with her tea and head up to her rooms to read. 

~

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