Bottled Up

The witch and the Divine Maiden left the library too late to join Laçais and Minucia for dinner. By the time Atrina and Sylvina returned to the carriage, Captain Luke’s eyes were drooping, and his knights were nodding off.

In a deceptively sweet voice, the Divine Maiden chided, “My, my, Captain Luke. We can’t have you sleeping on the job. As exhausting as your duty may be, I doubt Captain Eurielle would let her guard down like that.”

Sylvina’s voice jolted Luke and his unit out of their sleep. Indignant and mortified, the captain attempted to save face. “D-Divine Maiden! My men and I are always vigilant. We...we...where do you need to be escorted next?”

“The House of Saint Methusaleh.”

“Very well. Knights, let’s take them home.”

On the way back to the residence, Sylvina made a stop at the bakery to purchase an assortment of sweet and savory pastries. The baker was on his way out the door when he saw the carriage approaching. He scrambled back inside and gave the Divine Maiden the finest pastries his magic and his oven could provide on such short notice. Sylvina apologized for the inconvenience, but the baker felt honored, rather than bothered, that the esteemed lady would grace his establishment with her presence at such a late hour.

After the brief excursion, Atrina and Sylvina returned to the House of Saint Methusaleh, and they did not trouble themselves with bidding Luke and his men a goodnight. The two women ascended the stairs, and Atrina was about to return to her room when the Divine Maiden stopped her. “You can’t go yet.”

The witch did not like to be told what to do, especially by the clergy, and she challenged, “Who says?”

“I do,” Sylvina responded calmly. “You don’t expect me to eat all this bread by myself, right?”

The maiden’s unexpected generosity lifted the witch’s spirits, and she accompanied Sylvina to her suite. In her sadness at the library, Atrina did not realize how hungry she was after missing supper.

Minucia was waiting expectantly near the door when they entered the room. The auburn maiden was in her nightgown, and she glowered when Sylvina asked, “Waiting for someone, Minnie?”

“No, I’m not. Sometimes, you come up with the silliest ideas, like bringing the witch to our room for no reason. Oh, are those pastries from Luciano’s? I could use one, especially after tonight’s horrible dinner.”

Sylvina pulled the bread basket away when Minucia reached for it. “These aren’t for you. Atrina and I haven’t eaten anything while you had a—as you put it—‘horrible dinner’.”

“No fair! You’re so cruel. Come on, just give me one. You know how bad the chefs are here.”

“If you were actually grateful for what you have, Minucia, I would’ve given you a loaf. As Divine Maidens, we are blessed that we want for nothing.”

The fussing maiden stamped her slippered foot. “Speak for yourself! You’re everyone’s golden girl while I’m just chopped liver. Laçais never gets on your case, but she always chastises me for the smallest things!”

Atrina watched the two maidens quarrel as her stomach rumbled, tempted to ask Sylvina if they could eat in the dining hall instead. A knock at the door disrupted the women’s argument.

The witch opened the door to find Deacon Mikhail standing outside, holding an amber bottle of wine in his long, slender fingers. Atrina cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you lost, Mikhail?”

“Ah, the witch. It’s strange to see you here of all places.”

“Stay on topic, deacon.”

“My bad. No, I’m not lost. I’m here to see—actually, yes, I got lost. I meant to go to my room, but I tend to lose my sense of direction when the corridors get dark at night.”

“Uh huh. What floor is your room on?”

“The...third floor.”

“I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference in step count between the third and fifth floors.”

Mikhail was beginning to lose his composure. “No doubt about that! I had such a long day, and seeing you in the Divine Maidens’ suite gave me a bit of a shock.”

“Get lost, and leave that here.” The witch took the bottle of wine from the deacon and shut the door in his fine face.

“You know he can report a witch being in our suite,” warned Minucia.

Sylvina rejoined, “And I could just as easily report a deacon bringing wine to our room. Why do you entertain him, Minucia? You know that we’re not allowed to involve ourselves with anyone, romantically or physically.”

Minucia grabbed a pillow from her bed and hurled it across the room. “Please, by all means, impose another restriction on my life! It’s not like the Church keeps us on a tight leash already.”

“You treat your duty as a burden, Minnie, but you fail to realize that God favors us by letting us be His Divine Maidens.”

“Don’t lecture me, Sylvie! You may enjoy living in a cage, but I don’t!” Minucia fell to her knees and wept into her palms.

Except for the sound of Minucia’s crying, the room fell silent. Atrina mulled over the auburn maiden’s words as she watched her sob. Being a Divine Maiden doesn’t seem to be all sunshine and rainbows.

Atrina brandished the wine bottle. “Girls, I think we need a drink.”

“Don’t we need glasses?” sniffled Minucia.

“Not if drinking from the same bottle doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m fine with that,” affirmed Sylvina, “as long as we drink in moderation.”

-

Many sips of wine were taken, loosening up the three women considerably. They lay in a circle on the ground with their heads together. Tipsy and in jovial spirits, the women opened up to one another, disregarding the boundaries that once kept them apart.

Atrina spoke her mind first. “I can’t be the only who thinks Luke looks like an ugly porcupine.” The maidens burst into laughter, and Sylvina said gleefully, “You’re so right! That horrible haircut of his is so stupid, but no one ever says anything about it. Brown and spiky. Spiky and brown. He’s an insult to porcupines all around the world.”

Minucia lifted her right hand. “On one end, you have Luke: the worst case scenario when it comes to looks.” She lifted her left hand. “On the other, you have Mikhail: perfect in every way.”

Sensing an opportunity to probe Minucia, the emerald-eyed maiden queried, “Minnie, you and he haven’t...sinned, have you?”

“Of course we haven’t! I’m not a harlot.”

“I never said you were, but you spend much time with him nowadays. I worry that if you let your passions overtake you...oh, never mind.”

“Spit it out, Sylvie! You’re worried that I would no longer be a Divine Maiden if my chastity was breached? I can live with that. I’d finally be free after spending all my damn life being repressed by the Church.”

“Minucia, still your tongue if you don’t mean what you say! You could lose everything you have by making that mistake.”

“I hate when you talk like Laçais. Compared to you, Miss Perfect, I lose nothing. I don’t have an adoring crowd like you always do, and this cushy lifestyle only walls us in. I’m going insane, Sylvie! I can’t live the life I want because the Church wants me—wants us—to waste away, wearing masks of virtue and modesty that the people pour their hearts out for.”

Sylvina softened her voice. “We don’t have a choice. The people need us to remind them that God has not forsaken this world, that His glory still exists on this earth. It was His divine will that illuminated our paths the day we were born.”

Atrina interjected, “Wait, how long have you both been Divine Maidens?”

“All our lives. Nineteen years to be exact,” Minucia answered flatly.

“How the hell could the Church just pick your lives out for you?”

Despite the witch’s incredulity, Sylvina spoke sincerely, “Divine Maidens aren’t usually chosen at birth. A group of girls from noble families are assessed by the acting High Priestess when they come of age. From that group, only one is chosen to serve as a Divine Maiden for the rest of her life. But, my and Minnie’s circumstances were different. We’ve been told that a miracle happened when we were born.”

Minucia rolled away from Sylvina, grumbling, “Not this story again…”

The blonde maiden continued, “Our parents were not of the nobility, but they were close friends working as farmers in a small rural community southwest of Diosveil. Apparently, a blight ravaged the land for years, and the once healthy cattle birthed sickly young season after season. The community was on the brink of starvation, but when Minnie and I came to this world, everything seemed to heal. The dying plants became green with life, and the next generation of cattle did not have a single sick calf.”

What a load of bullshit, Atrina thought to herself, but she was still interested enough to ask, “Did you ever meet your parents?”

“No, all we know about them has been told to us by High Priestess Laçais.”

“That’s because she took us from them when she realized how ‘special’ we were,” Minucia commented bitterly. “Laçais heard the news, snatched us away, and raised us herself. I had the misfortune of being born in the same house as Sylvie. Miss Perfect’s always had a gift for restorative magic, and I got squat.”

“That’s not true. Laçais has always told you that you have an affinity for many different types of magic.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none, Sylvie. I won't ever know what it's like to be as loved or as talented as you are.”

Atrina then posed a difficult question. “Tell me, ladies, if the Church didn’t exist, do you think your lives would be any better?”

“Guaranteed,” said Minucia.

“I can’t question His design, so I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Sylvina responded.

The witch thought of her aunt’s misery and gave the blonde maiden a scathing reply, “You’re willing to endure a lifetime of living in the Church’s shadow, never once considering who you could be outside of a role forced upon you?”

Sylvina went silent, and the women did not exchange any other words before falling asleep.