The freedom I gain from being in a new house is odd. All chores are done by the servants. No sisters to keep an eye on and shield from Father. Only Cynthia, but even my relationship with her is changing. There's no need for me to cover for her. It's brought such a relief, more than I thought would happen.
We spend several days staying mostly in one of our rooms. Because of it, I find it easier and easier to wear less face paint, something I've always wanted. Though I do put on a bit more when we attend dinner with the Envadi. Those affairs are more quiet than at home. The Envadi never speaks as Father would. Not to yell or punish, yet no babbling on about other warlocks either.
But this morning, something changed. When a servant was clearing my room, which is strange enough to get used to, she said we didn't have to stay here all the time. We're free to explore the house and the grounds at will.
I don't know if she has the authority to give permission, but I can't help but want it to be true. The rooms, despite their size, have grown confining in the last few days. Cynthia doesn't seem to mind the confinement and chooses to stay in her room, but I'm not wasting an opportunity to get out.
“Are you sure you won't join me?”
She doesn't look up from her embroidery. “I can't believe you're going. The Envadi is probably setting some sort of trap.”
“I'm tired of these rooms. We didn't have a lot of space at Father's, but at least we could go outside and to class. Never thought I would miss class.” I shake my head. I don't really miss learning how I'm never going to be up to the standards a woman should, but this monotony is overbearing. “If something bad happens, it won't be any different than before.”
“Before you avoided trouble instead of racing headlong into it.”
Except for the times I said too much or took on my sisters punishments, which was all the time. “I'll be cautious.”
“I'll be here when you need a shoulder to cry on.”
“I don't cry.”
“Just the same, I'll be here.”
I pick at my gloves hoping she's wrong and exit the room. The house is lovely. Lovelier than I remember, though I suppose being well rested, fed, and not having the shock of my intended being killed and replaced by a barbarian before looking it over, helps.
Rugs cover the length of the halls, cushioning my steps. Pictures, mostly nature scenes, cover the walls. A few women with their large, rounded bellies, and several with warlocks are scattered among them. Tables sit every few feet with vases of fresh flowers, filling the air with their subtle and sweet fragrance. Though I enjoy their scent, keeping so many fresh flowers with a house of only three occupants and their servants is a lot of extra work.
I randomly pick doors to open and peek in, though I avoid the area by the Envadi's turret. There are so many rooms, all with such varying styles and colors. Nothing sticks out. I wander through halls and stairways until I open a door to reveal something different.
This one is as big as one floor of Father's house, smelling of old paper. Shelves cover the walls, floor to ceiling, books filling them. I never knew so many books existed. Father has some, but those wouldn't fill one bookshelf here. What other words could they contain? If they're all like Woman's Canon, I've no use for them. Still, the idea they might have more tugs at me until it pulls me further into the room. I'm not supposed to touch them. What if someone caught me just being in here with them? I focus on other things, while the books linger in my mind.
Curtains hang from the ceiling to the floor in several places. When I pull one open, there's a window taller than me looking over the front of the manor. The others open to reveal more of the front and lake side of the manor. The lake is bigger than I thought it would be, swelling across the land. On the side closest to the manor is a little dock with a boat bobbing beside it.
After letting the curtain fall back into place, I try to continue ignoring the call of the surrounding books. I focus on all the chairs, sofas, and tables. The council meeting was off limits, but I imagine something like this would suit their needs. Lots of places for warlocks to sit and do whatever it is they do. Memories of being confined to my room on those days are hot, sticky, and unpleasant. I push them away.
Several minutes pass and nobody has wandered in. The books are still calling. What if they aren't all like the Woman's Canon? They can't all be, can they? I move closer to them. Most are thinner than the only book I'm allowed, a few are fatter.
No one is around, what harm could it do to look?
I peruse the bookshelves, searching for something worth the risk. Something that will show me a world outside the Woman's Canon. My search stops on one titled The Light of Day. I rest my hand upon it. Supple and bumpy. Still, no one comes.
With a tug, I remove it from the shelf. It's tiny in my hands compared to what I'm used to. Easier to hide. I run a finger on the edge of its spine. It's softer than the Woman's Canon.