Laundry

Chapter 12: Laundry

Silva

The doors shut behind us, and I felt I could finally breathe again, exhaling heavily. It seemed I would have the Lieutenant to myself. “Thank you for joining me, Lieutenant.” I turned to face her as we began walking the halls. Forgive me for keeping you from your own rest, but I do have one request before we retire for the night.”

“Laundry?” Shaela guessed. Despite her parents running the show during dinner, there were a few things I had picked up about her. One of which was that she was incredibly observant. A quality that certainly served her well in the military.

“Exactly so.”

“Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer our staff take care of it?”

“I want to make sure my garments are cared for properly. I packed light, remember? And besides, it will give me time alone to reflect.”

“Very well. I won’t push it further. Right this way.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to stop at my room and gather my belongings, to save a trip.”

Shaela nodded. We had just barely passed the stairs and, with an about-face, we walked back and ascended them, moving down the hall once more to my room.

We entered my room, Shaela standing off to the side of the door at attention, waiting for me to gather my laundry. I moved into the bathroom, disrobed, and changed into a modest nightgown. I snapped, and my belongings hurried themselves into neatly folded stacks before tucking themselves away into my bag. Slinging my bag over my shoulder and ensuring my veil still properly covered my face, I moved to greet Shaela once more, who hadn’t moved a muscle in my moment away. “Thank you for waiting, Lieutenant.” Some life had returned to my voice as the tension left my body now that we were out of her parents’ presence.

“You change faster than some of the officers.” Shaela jested, a little bewildered. “I suppose that’s how you had time to fix your hair before dinner.”

“And take a bath.” I stepped past Shaela back into the hall. She jogged to stand beside me before directing me back down the hall towards the entryway and its grand staircase. This time, there was no rush, and we paced ourselves, tired from the day’s events. I inspected the decor more closely. It matched the personalities I had experienced at dinner. The MacCrows lived lavishly, it seemed from their roast boar and aged wine, and the relics, treasures, vases, and sculptures on display took on new meaning. They were part of the MacCrow story, proof of their right to exist among the Prydannian nobility. The portraits contributed to this narrative even more so, with placards beneath explaining the titles and feats of each subject. “Your family seems to document its lineage well.”

“Each MacCrow before me sacrificed a lot to get us here.” Shaela stopped in front of her grandfather’s portrait, a nostalgic smile appearing on her face. “It’s not just enough to be part of a noble house,” she continued, “but to care for your family, to contribute in some meaningful way, that’s the weight you carry as a noble.” She trailed off a little, beginning to move once more.

“So should I expect to see a portrait of Lieutenant Shaela MacCrow anytime soon?”

Shaela laughed, “I doubt it. I’m sure I’ll have one eventually, but it will be many years from now, when I've made captain or maybe even admiral. And that assumes you will remain the liaison between the Mistborn Witches and House MacCrow.”

“Well, despite the awkwardness of that dinner, I’m not planning on leaving without a treaty drafted. And besides, I could always visit for personal reasons.” Shaela paused at the comment. I don’t think it crossed her mind that this interaction, this task from King Drakgard III himself, would lead to me or other Witches becoming tourists, or trade partners, or anything more than a name on a signed document and a one-off marriage.

Moving again, now down the stairs, Shaela spoke, “You’ve yet to run either of my parents' patience dry... so I suppose you could be a recurring guest.”

“And what of your patience?” We reached the bottom of the stairwell and turned to move back down the same wing we had come from, this time on the ground floor. “You’ve accommodated my every request so far.”

“And I will continue to do so.” We locked eyes. “At least until you’ve given me an unreasonable demand.”

“Well, I may have two more requests, and they are... less reasonable than being escorted to the laundry room.”

We finally arrived, and the staff was mostly confined to the kitchen to eat and clean, or so it seemed. Shaela and I were totally alone, surrounded by wash basins and drying racks. “The staff usually tend to the laundry in the morning, so you should have this space to yourself.”

“I see.”

“Now then. What of your last two requests?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. I didn’t think my requests were unreasonable, but for Shaela to indulge me, she would have to inconvenience herself and her family. She stood only a couple of feet in front of me, still maintaining her military posture, watching, waiting. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Seen. It wasn’t clear to me what the Lord and Lady of the house had thought of me, what they had taken away from the dinner. But I also wasn’t sure it mattered. I was here at the behest of Lieutenant Shaela, who herself acted on behalf of the King. If I believed this treaty was worthwhile. If I thought breaking out of isolation was the right decision, then what mattered was having Shaela on my side. I took a deep breath and exhaled, “I’m not sure dinner went well. If I must be honest.”

“If we are being honest, I’m not sure how dinner went at all.”

“I don’t want to come off as insensitive or judgmental, but the ball, the marriage, it all seems superfluous to reaching our real goal: A guarantee of peace so long as both our people remain.”

Shaela glanced back at the door, instinctively reaffirming we were alone. “To that, I am quite sympathetic.”

“I didn’t want to assume, but you did seem irritated at times over the course of dinner.”

Shaela nodded. “If I may be candid with you, this whole ordeal has put a lot of strain on my military career.”

I raised a questioning eyebrow and then gestured for her to continue.

“It’s delayed my promotion,” she paused, breaking eye contact and going over her thoughts in her head, “It may sound selfish, but making captain is important to me.”

“Well, of course! You won’t get your portrait if you aren’t promoted, from the sounds of it,” I joked, both to lighten the mood, but also to see if Shaela would tip her hand a little more.

“Exactly. I want nothing more than to be a painting on a wall in a dimly lit hallway for the rest of time.” She deflected, perhaps unknowingly, “I’m no stranger to venting frustration, but what does this have to do with your still-unspoken requests?”

“I’m afraid that I may run out of your parents’ patience.”

“And thusly,” she beckoned me to get to the point.

“And so I would like you to cancel the airship ride.” I spat it out in a blitz, my nerves getting the better of me.

Shaela leaned back against the doorframe, arms now crossed in front of her, “I mean, I think I can do that for you, but you will miss out on seeing more of Prydannia and the MacCrow’s holdings.”

My eyes widened, giving away my surprise. “It won’t be too much trouble for you?”

“I’ll just let the dockmaster know early in the day so it won’t disrupt their schedule.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head.

“And your second request?”

I was taken aback at just how much the lieutenant was willing to give. What was in this for her? What had been said over dinner, or even back in the garden that would make her so agreeable to a stranger’s whim? “I have an idea of what we may do instead. But you will just have to promise to indulge me tomorrow, should the conditions allow for it.”

“You would like me to agree to a secret activity, in place of the planned airship ride?”

“Yes.”

Shaela hummed and hawed for a moment, then looked me up and down before making intense eye contact, “How much of this is to avoid my parents?”

“It’s less about your parents and more about you.” The words came out of my mouth before I had fully processed them myself.

“About me?”

“Yes. It seems to me you have reason to ensure my visit is not just a success, but a success that doesn’t cost us days, moons, years of our lives to sort out every little detail.”

“I think that’s an accurate assessment.”

“Then indulge me in my request. If all goes as planned, we can have the treaty essentially complete tomorrow eve.”

Shaela paced. I had given her what must have felt like an ultimatum. Before I could elaborate, make clear my intent for my Coven and Prydannia to have a non-aggression pact, Shaela responded, “Alright, Silva. I’ll indulge you.”

With that, we said our goodbyes, and Shaela left me to do my laundry on my own and to figure out the details of my plan tomorrow, of the gamble I was about to make.