There I was, carried like a sack of rice, on the way to meet my master, or more accurately, Magnolia's master.
To be honest, I didn't really mind it, being carried like this, I mean. The maid's hold was as gentle as it was firm, and the speed with which she passed through the halls was absurd. I could feel the wind rushing past me, and each turn sent my hair tossing, but it would always perfectly fall back into place.
I wasn't sure if that was magic or just Magnolia's impressive hair.
I imagined this is what a roller coaster ride would feel like, especially when she jumped the steps and the world would drop for a second before a soft landing. Didn't even make a sound.
Was she Captain America or something?
This house. Manor? Mansion? Maybe a castle?
I couldn't really tell, nor did I know the fucking difference, but what I could deduce with my astute observation skills was the fact that it was, in fact, big as hell.
The view from the various windows was of a large, expansive, perfectly manicured lawn. Were we in the middle of nowhere? No other house for what seemed like miles.
And with all these halls and doors and floors, I'll probably die of old age before I find my way back to Magnolia's room. Another problem to deal with later.
A small yelp escaped my lips as the maid suddenly stopped.
I took a second to gather myself as she placed me on my feet in front of her, and I looked at her and asked, "Why did you stop? Are we here?"
I tried my best to not let on to the fact that I was a bit irritated that my roller coaster ride was over.
"No, my lady."
My lady? Why was she suddenly so formal? She was tossing Magnolia's name around earlier like they were best buds, but now she seemed small.
Then I heard the murmurs of voices down the hall. I turned to see a door wide open, warm light spilling from its maw. It looked cozy. The voices sounded like men talking, though I couldn't tell what they were saying, but they were loud with their snorting and laughter. They seemed to be having a good time.
Was this why she had suddenly gone stiff? I guess toting your lady around like a sack of rice wasn't exactly acceptable. What kind of relationship did Magnolia and her have that she'd carry her like so?
"Guests?" I asked.
The maid nodded. Okay, it was a guest, so I could probably get away with not knowing their identity at the moment.
"Who is it?" I inquired, calm as can be.
"The Duke of Villeoren, my lady."
"Mnnnnn, I see." No, I didn't fucking see. What kind of name was Villeoren?
I began to walk, a march down the hall. All we needed to do was pass that door, and I could get the maid to continue leading the way to Magnolia's master, and maybe even carry me.
My feet were surprisingly silent, and the laughter of the two men surged as I got closer.
Something sounded off. It didn't sound like the laughter of two friends, almost like they were mocking in their laughter. Who the hell were they mocking at this hour?
Then as soon as I stepped in front of the mouth of said room, the warm light bathing me in its soft glow, silence snapped into place, and my feet refused to go any further.
Their eyes caught me in a millisecond. Two men, sitting across from each other, both on leather chairs. One tall, the other average height, so short. And I could've sworn I had no prejudice against short people, but that one gave a bad feeling.
"Magnolia!"
A gleeful voice broke the silence. The tall man, his voice deep but soft, rolled across the room and snapped me out of my stunned condition. I turned to face them properly in the doorway and put on a shaky smile. I could feel it was shaky, so I was really freaking out.
All while trying to figure out who this Villeoren fellow was. Was it the short guy?
They both had cigars, the tall one with one between his fingers, the short one with one between his teeth. He was also shuffling cards as he looked me up and down.
Half-finished drinks on the table in front of them, and a mostly empty ashtray, so they hadn't been at this for long I guessed.
"Don't just stand there," the tall man continued in that same gleeful tone. "Come and greet your papa this fine morning."
Papa? Man of the house? So I guess the guest must've been the shorty, he was the duke of Villeoren. Anyways.
My father—I mean, Magnolia's papa opened his arms and beckoned me over. The maid stood behind me almost like a shadow, eyes glued to the floor.
I slowly stepped inside. The smell of wood and smoke and who the hell knows what else. It was quite a dark room despite the warm light. Shelves of liquor, paintings, drapes, and a decapitated head of some animal I'm sure existed only in fantasy, mounted on the wall. Long, thick neck that still stood proudly, and the mess of bones on its head some would likely call horns, looking down at me with impunity and accusation, like I had been the one to cut its head off.
Fuck off, I wanted to say to it, but I was with company, so I quickly averted my eyes.
Back to my papa. Ugh, that felt odd to think.
As I got closer, my mind was racing. Was I supposed to hug this mofo or a handshake? But my feet kept dragging me closer even though my mind hadn't decided what to do yet.
And this guy was smiling gleefully, with open arms. And that leering son of a bitch across from him was really throwing me off, so much so that when I got in front of Magnolia's father, supposedly my father now, I curtsied, of all things.
I knew I messed up when his gleeful smile turned down slightly at the fact that I didn't fall into his arms like he wanted. Silence seemed to infest the place again until Mr. Short Stack slapped the table in laughter.
He tossed the cards across the table, no longer caring for them, and took the cigar from his lips as he keeled over in laughter.
I glanced back at Magnolia's dad, and he was freaking pouting. These grown-ass men.
Well, I supposed I had just ripped out his heart, but who in their right mind would jump into a strange man's hands just because he said he was your papa? In fact, that is even more reason to be wary. But I felt kind of bad. And presumably he wasn't a strange man to Magnolia, but he was to me. So, tough luck.
"Olaf, you old fool," the short stack said, "she's not a little girl anymore. You gotta get over yourself. The debut is in a week. You've kept her sheltered here long enough."
He turned to me, gaze scraping my form. I felt a shiver of disgust.
Magnolia's father, Olaf, clicked his tongue as he leaned back. Not directed towards me, but towards his table mate. He took a long drag of his cigar, then breathed.
"Oh, hush up, Milard," he groaned. "You have no daughters. How are you to understand my plight?"
"What a tragedy," this Milard man mused. "I was blessed with sons. Other than marriages, I fail to see what use daughters have."
He said that last part whilst leering at me.
This fucker. If I had half a mind, I'd be brawling with him by now, but of course I couldn't. I was Magnolia. Calm is me, I am calm. I kept my cool even as my fists scrunched in my gown.
I glanced at my maid, hoping she could read my eyes and realize that she needed to throw me a rope and fish me out of here, but she stayed silent outside the room.
Olaf looked at Milard, the mood suddenly stale, the smoke curling around him.
"I already said no," he said, his voice no longer gleeful.
It was Milard's turn to frown now. "Well, you didn't exactly consider my offer, considering it'd be beneficial for us both. My son is a wonderful pick for your daughter."
Was I supposed to be hearing this? Would it be rude if I just walked out right now? Probably. I'd probably be put to death. Maybe not that far, but you get it.
Olaf didn't reply, only took another drag.
Milard continued, "You know the mess of the market. If we worked this one out, it'll make this simple. Or is it that you're holding out for the prince?"
That caught my ear. A prince?
Milard chuckled as he continued droning on. "Rumors, Olaf. There's no certainty with that whirlwind of a royal. You're only wasting time." He sighed and turned to me. "What do you think, girl?"
Somehow I knew he wasn't expecting an answer from me, so I didn't answer. But if I did, I would've told him to shove it.
He turned back to Olaf, who finally sighed.
"Look, Milard." He sat up and reached over, taking my gloved hand into his. It was big and firm and warm...comforting. I don't know why I suddenly felt like crying. "My daughter will have the best the market has to offer. So I'm holding off on rash decisions."
He let go and leaned back in his chair.
"If your son's as great as you say he is, then he'll have his chance."
For whatever reason, Milard didn't like that response, but he was quick to fix his face. But me and my father, I mean Magnolia's father, had already caught it, and Olaf was all smiles now because of it. Seems like the two men enjoyed each other's misery. What weirdos they were.
He turned to me. "Magpie, I hope we didn't keep you." He glanced past me to see my maid, still as a statue in the hall. "Where are you off to so early?"
"My master is waiting. We're actually late."
I hoped the last part would make him send us off quickly, but no. He kept yapping.
"Lady Freya, huh?" he said with a grin, glancing over at Milard to see his reaction.
Milard, who was gathering up the cards again, mouth sour, seemed to sink deeper into an even fouler mood at the name of the woman, though he said nothing, probably because he had only bad things to say, and his silence seemed to be enough amusement for Olaf.
"Right," he said. "Go on. Don't keep the lovely lady waiting."
And I didn't spare a word and quickly left.
Was that slimy Milard negotiating for my hand? Luckily my father didn't seem to like the idea, so I was safe for now. If the Milard guy gave off vibes like those, I could only imagine how his son could be.
Down the hall, I turned to my maid and asked, "How much time did we lose?"
This got her to pick me up again. With nobody around, she wasn't so stiff anymore, and she ran like hell.
I couldn't hold my giggles. Back on my roller coaster ride.