I am alive. I think. My head hurts. I feel like I fell from somewhere high. I’m crying. I don’t know why I’m crying. In fact, I’m not sure I know what crying is supposed to be. I was born Rue Piet in the province of Ashur. People call me “Parce,” as in parcel. Like a package. I am no package. I was not dropped off via flying ray and left to be flayed open. No one was rooting through my contents and pulling things out they’d been waiting for. I am just a servant girl. Just a Reish. Reish is Ashurian for “poor.” Absolutely destitute.
My family got the short end of the stick when it came to settling in our land. My father would tell me; “Being a Reish is more than just being poor. We are poor for this world. We are rich for the next.” I didn’t know what it meant. I only hoped that wherever the next world was it would come fast.
Anyhow, my father and mother were wonderful. They knew that being a young woman with a boy’s figure meant I would not soon be baring sons. I would not soon become a mashgi’ach or a keeper. This meant I would need to make a living elsewhere. It meant my existence would be tiresome.
The moment the official’s daughter requested a live in companion, they jumped at the chance. Officer Bernig is a kind man with harsh hands and gruff speech. However, if you needed a bowl of soup, he would give you his double portion. If you required medical care, he would supply the best. My father knew him when they were boys. He didn’t take a second option into consideration.
He picked me up on Shani’, and I’ve been here ever since. My bedroom is painted from the trees. The fabric of my clothes is white and soft. They are weaved of trundle spinner’s excrement. It sounds diabolical, but they excrete a substance lighter than any other animal’s fur. Ashur is sweltering two hundred days out of the year. It must be. The lush foliage wouldn’t survive without the intense moisture that comes from the heat.
Sol burns brilliant orange until Sol Cerulean arrives on day 200. The remainder of the year it burns cerulean. This is a time of harvest, love, and enjoyment. The work is done, and the trees are breathing. They are mating and we are reaping their fruit. Until then, it is time to toil.
My version of toil is much better than the other kinds there were. Courtesans were usually people who had no skills and no husband. They were only good in the bedroom. Despite my skills, father wanted to be sure my future was secure. Life as an entertainer was difficult. People had to like you and I wasn’t an immediately likeable character. I was like curds. Delicious to those who like curds. Detestable to those who couldn’t stomach the texture. Curds are delicious but the texture is odd. I am an odd texture as well. Bristly. Pointy.
Nava is Officer Bernig’s daughter. She is beautiful. Born during Sol Cerulean, her hair is white like the sands at Tammah. However, she was not to be taken like sucar in the brew of leaves. Nava is a warrior. She trains at her father’s side in the garden. Women warriors are not commonplace. However, when a woman managed to dabble in war, she often reigned supreme. Some men loved it. Others, not so much. Madame Ko’ach, Nava’s mother is one of them.
Madame Ko’ach (Do not tell her I call her that. She will be loathsome of me) bested Officer Bernig on the battlefield. He loved her, and she despised him. He never gave up and one day the two couldn’t resist their fervor for one another. Nava was born four months after their first outing. As Officer Bernig was to Madame Ko’ach, so am I to Nava.
It is to be expected. Her pulchritude knows no bounds. She is the comeliest woman in all of Ashur. Yet, I am just her servant. Yet, she doesn’t treat me like a servant. A knock on my door startled me.
“Parce, won’t you open up and bestow a gift upon me?” Nava asked.
I grinned and flung my legs over the bed.
“I’ve no gift to give my princess.” I said, throwing the door open.
Nava fell into my arms and held me close the moment the door was ajar.
“The gift of your beauty is all I require.” She said, kissing my cheek.
My face warmed as she fell into my bed. She nestled into my sheets and inhaled deeply.
“You’re so lovely. You always smell of brewed leaves and hardened sucar.”
“That is no place for a warrior to rest.”
“A warrior’s rest is never guaranteed luxury. She must sleep wherever she is able. I like your bed. It smells like you.” She said.
I shook my head and moved to the small stove. My quarters housed me like a separate home from the larger one I lived in. I had a washroom, a sitting room, a bakery room, and a music room. Nava saw to it that everything was designed to my liking. Official Bernig was pleased to bring in his finest fabrics. “As fancy as we are you ought to be.” He said, grinning as the expensive things were hustled into my quarters.
“Morning sustenance m’lady?” I asked Nava.
“Of course. You are also a wonderful cook.” She said.
I rolled my eyes. Nava was always full of compliments to me. She was a serpent’s bite to everyone else. Crass like her father. No nonsense like her mother. She lay in my bed whilst I made flat cakes. Thick loaves of bread flattened and softened with fat and buzzing nectar. I pushed them into the oven with spices. The resulting smell was maddening.
“Flat cakes are my favorite.” Nava said.
Nava hated flat cakes before I arrived. Her own mother was left aghast when I baked and she requested them for morning fuel each day. Madame Ko’ach was ready to boil over with anger until she tried one herself. Well, that’s quite lovely. She said, grabbing at another one on my third night in their home. Nava had smirked and batted her lashes at me in a way that rendered me useless. She liked making me feel useless.
When the cakes were done, I brewed leaves. Nava and I sat on the floor to eat.
“Parce,” She asked suddenly.
“M’lady?” I asked.
“Do you fancy anyone around the grounds?” She asked.
I was taken aback.
“Not really m’lady. I am only here to be of assistance to you.” I said.
Nava dropped her flat cake and leaned in closely.
“If someone here fancied you, would you give them a moment of your time?” She asked.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“A woman. A warrior. Someone who loves you deeply.” She said.
I lifted my shoulders and let them fall in a lackadaisical way.
“I suppose. I would need to see her first.” I said.
“Close your eyes.”
I did.
“Open them.” She said.
Nava was nude before me. I swiftly stood and began gathering up her garments to drape them back over her. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t drag my eyes from her navel to the twigs of her collar bones. Lying if I said when she continued shrugging out of her clothes, I didn’t have to joust with the pooling of liquid in my mouth.
“M’lady! Please! What would your father think if he saw you like this?”
“Father would be pleased I’ve finally chosen a suitor.” She said.
I dropped her garments and stared at her.
“M’lady. I am not — we cannot — you must marry someone of worth.”
“You are of worth.”
“I am — I am a servant to your every whim.”
“My whim is that you lay with me.” She said.
“M’lady — ” I began.
“Did you not say my every whim, Parce?”
“Yes, M’lady but — ”
“But? What is but? I have made a request. You will honor it, yes?”
“W-what about the suitor you said fancied me?” I asked.
Nava grabbed my face gently and pulled my lips to hers.
“You fool. I am the suitor.”
Nava and I were in love for six Sols and three Sol Ceruleans. I was her servant. She was my everything. It came to pass that officer Bernig’s time had come. He was mortally wounded on the battlefield. Lady Ko’ach — the ever-faithful warrior died by his side fighting off his enemies.
The council called Nava to a meeting of elders.
“Nava Bernig. Daughter of the great bull Daniel Bernig. Daughter of the huntress Ko’ach Bernig. We regret to inform you. You must take a partner and steward the duties of your parents.” Alden said.
Alden is archaic. Three hundred years had done him good. His greying hairs and well-worn eyes made everything he said sound like a parchment worthy announcement. I watched Nava fall to her knees. Crying was not her character. She simply dropped with the weight of the message. I moved to her side to comfort her and helped her up.
“I have chosen a partner.” She said.
I stood there aghast. We had not talked about another suitor. She pledged to tell me if she fell in love with anyone else.
“Lady Rue of Ashur. Parce, if she would have me.” She said.
There was no breath left in my body. The council looked upon me like an urchin, but when Nava would not back down, they allowed it.
“Very well. Parce of Ashur. You are very lucky. The wake will commence within a fortnight. You are to wed and be in attendance.” Alden said.
The council of elders departed, and Nava turned to me, smiling.
“M’lady — “I began.
“Do not call me M’lady. You have kissed the skin at my navel.” She said.
“Nava,” I began again but she hushed me.
“I don’t want to hear it. Spare me.”
“I am not an officer.”
“You are whatever I tell them you are.”
“Nava! Listen to me! You need a ruler. I am not a ruler!”
“You rule my heart! Is that not as important as any other rule?”
I halted. What was I to say in response? Nava caressed my face.
“I love you, Parce. My mother is dead. My father is dead. Love is what I need most for the rest of my life. Not a ruler. Not a warrior. Love.” She said.
Her lips pressed to mine as stones fell into my heart. She was young and in love and not thinking rationally. She needed all three of the things she’d said. A warrior. A ruler. A lover. I only fit the mold of one of those things. We cannot be wed. We should not be wed. We will not be wed.
Twelve days passed. We were to wed at dawn. I tearfully slid the letter beneath Nava’s head before sealing my betrayal with one last kiss. At dawn, I listened from the bushes as Nava’s cry could be heard in the foothills. Her lament — so potent the animals of every field groaned with her. Nava married Oriel of Lampstead. A warrior. A proper ruler. I do not know if Nava loves her. We only get certain news in the brothel.
