บท 7: Kinley
If someone had asked Serenica an hour earlier where she would see herself at sunset, it would not have been in Mariana Kinley's manor watching her undress.
Kinley was firm in every imaginable way, including her body. Serenica tried to be shy and look away, but that would only have solidified the woman's power over her. Kinley looked good. She knew how to take off every undergarment on her own, and even though Helen offered to help, it seemed to be mostly about showing off the power Kinley had over others. Serenica took the dress and the corset on her arms and thanked her maker for not letting her blush easily. Kinley was nearly naked very soon, she took back her goblet and looked through her green curtains towards the setting sun.
"Oh, and it is not raining, either. That is very nice. I am going to need every measurement imaginable. I want my corsets and undershirts to match."
With her style, no one would see them, anyway, as Kinley apparently liked to dress conservatively, like they did in Eastern Sennas, but Serenica didn't blame her after seeing Gadfly's mismatched underpants.
She felt a sudden urge to actually tell Kinley about Gadfly. Serenica could have told it in a funny, educational way and Kinley would have laughed. It felt important to get Kinley to like her. It was a bad idea. Serenica had to keep her true identity secret. She was Molly now. Useful for simple fortune telling and running errands. A servant, nothing more.
Kinley controlled the whole room with her bare breasts. She lifted her arms, perhaps purposefully, perhaps because she wanted to know how wide her chest was. Serenica was frozen. Thankfully, Helen always had her bag with her, and in that bag were things related to sewing and preparations for sewing.
"Oh, it's still the same. I never change. What is your own chest circumference?"
Helen told her own measurements.
"That's fashionable. A bit on the chubby side by Eastern standards, but very fashionable. You must have admirers?"
"I've always been good enough," Helen said, stupidly not wiping away the insulted tone in her voice.
Serenica's heartbeat quickened once again. She thought the stupid organ would betray her one of these days and she would end up stabbed and bleeding out in some alley with no witnesses. The thing with having a heart was that it was prone to making its emotions visible in some ways – shaking hands, a throbbing vein, that sort of stuff. It was no wonder that Serenica got very nervous. She was in danger, thanks to Helen and her wounded pride.
"I am certain Miss Kinley meant no harm," she said, as sheepishly as she could. "We're all very different. Yet every woman is still a woman."
"Your Molly here has some ideas that would be fitting for a noble lady," Kinley remarked. "It is abhorrent that I have not yet seen a Helen Dastra in my circles."
"She is humble to a fault," Serenica said, dropping a hint of complaint in her voice.
Kinley missed the sarcasm aimed towards Helen and flashed a smile. "You two are welcome for the Supper of Worms this year. I'd invite you to my celebration of the Merchant's Eve, but that's a family holiday, is it not."
"May I inquire if you are planning to spend it with family?" Helen asked, apparently recovered from the veiled insult.
Kinley's pretty face turned wistful and she began to take her clothes back from Serenica.
"My family lives far away," she finally said after fastening her corset. "They're not very impressed by me. Yet."
Serenica was silent, and she thanked all known gods that Helen was silent as well.
"I assume you want to hear more. Well, it's not exactly a secret."
Kinley got fully dressed and opened a curtain on the northern wall.
Serenica had assumed that it covered a window, as the fabric was heavy enough to stifle even the most burning light. However, the entire wall was covered with a painting. It was different from those Serenica had seen earlier. It was bleak, yes, and the colors could hardly be called titillating, but in the strokes there was a certain passion that was a bit out of place in Kinley's frigid manor. The strokes were actually visible if one looked hard in certain, calculated places.
The subject of the painting was a man, perhaps in his early thirties, sitting in a luxurious chair and holding an object that Serenica could not recognize to save her life. It looked like a scrying instrument, but she could not be sure.
The man himself was fairly handsome. His features were sleek and joined each other in perfect symmetry, but his straw blond hair was unkempt and long, in a way resembling pirate fashion. Serenica did not know if they had similar fashion in Eastern Sennas, or if pirate fashion was actually influenced by those lands that were rumored to be the home of the Lean family. Kings of Lean, a long line of usurpers and necromancers, they became great plots for plays and novels. It was funny how the family name resembled Kinley's surname. Kings of Lean – Kinley. Way too funny for Serenica. She felt chills running up and down her spine.
Kinley was one of them.
"I can see you've made your calculations, and you are right about me," Kinley said, talking to Helen but directing the message towards Serenica. "Like I said, it's not a secret, but people rarely believe me. They have such a positive image of me and such nasty thoughts about my family. This one here is called the Dreamer."
Serenica focused her attention to the painting. The Dreamer had eyes even paler than Kinley's, if the artist was to be trusted. His expression was absolutely emotionless. There was nothing to be read from the skinny face.
"Granted, I am very far from the main line. Far enough that I've kept my family's fair skin and good looks with luck and sheer luck only. They have not recognized our branch in decades."
"There is a likeness, though," Serenica caught herself saying. Why did she have to make Kinley like her? The woman wanted to imprison or kill her ilk and here she was, posturing and kissing her ass.
"Oh, believe me, I know," Kinley said. "That is the only reason I consider myself worthy of him."
"Worthy?"
"A marriage between East and West – how fruitful would that be? I could bring this wretched part of the continent back into the loving arms of the Leans. It was better when we were in charge. None of this chaos! Pirates, smugglers, hobbyist witches turning unborn children into monsters!"
Serenica took personal offense at that. She had certainly never turned anyone into a monster. Quite the opposite. For years she had been increasingly worried about the increasing number of miscarriages and deformed babies. Now, though, she had enough sense to keep those thoughts to herself.
"We would be better. I know he will not inherit the crown directly, but he's the second in line and certainly the most handsome of the three. Truly, the Dreamer will have lots to do once the King dies, as the eldest son, the crown prince, is frankly an indulgent and lazy sack of fat."
Serenica found this outburst to be comical, as there was no such thing as an actual king in the Lean family, even if the family did exist. Sennas had one king, and that man was the mild-mannered Guyl the Kind. Another thing that made Serenica chuckle inside her head was the mental image of the two princes side by side, the freakishly thin Dreamer and a morbidly obese heir wearing a fake crown and eating sweets from a massive jar.
"As a woman of intellect you must have a plan to get the Dreamer to consider you, Miss?" Helen asked.
The question was such a curious and intrusive one that Serenica flinched, but Kinley still replied:"I do have a plan, even if it isn't mine to begin with. I have exchanged letters with an ambassador of the royal bloodline. It is distasteful to them that I live in a place like this. If I purge Neul of all malevolent and criminal forces, they will consider visiting me. Then, I guess, I will just have to do my best to prove myself both an honorable woman and a proper witch."
Every ounce of sympathy Serenica had had for this woman flew out through the window. Kinley had the means, she had the power and the motive, and even though she probably felt herself to be in the right, everything she said sounded like bragging. Bragging about murder and theft and injustice. A proper witch! There was no such thing in Serenica's books. If one could do witchcraft, that alone made them a witch. Here was Kinley, ready to get everyone like her killed, and she saw nothing wrong with that.
Serenica was so thoroughly disgusted by the woman that it took all her patience to not strangle her right then and there. She had to be calm, though, she couldn't get herself killed, as she was the most valuable asset of the free witches of Neul right now.
"He is handsome," she said quietly.
"Oh. He is. I wonder –"
Kinley got very quiet, too, she turned her eyes towards the floor, and whispered with an uncanny shyness:"Ideally, I'd start a family with him, but I am worried about the curse. Maybe it has affected my womb as well. It would kill me to give birth to a dead child, or worse, a demonic abomination. I so do want to see our healthy children play safely on the Ruby Hills."
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