Eory stared forward. He was incredibly disturbed by what the old woman had told him. “My ancestor… Owns your body?”
Pollyanna ran the knife through Eory’s hair one more time, enjoying the clean sound it made.
Shhk.
Hair floated to the ground like beautiful feathers.
She circled around in front of the fairy to look at her handiwork. The haircut looked good—but he looked sick to his stomach at her words.
She smiled. “You look very handsome as I predicted when we met.”
Eory couldn’t help but blush at that. He lowered his eyes bashfully.
Pollyanna smiled sweetly at him while his eyes were down.
He made her stomach churn.
In a moment, however, he stood up.
He looked up at Pollyanna compassionately, and the gaze made her feel naked.
She knew he pitied her.
“We should go to bed.” Pollyanna suggested, turning on her heel.
Eory seized her wrist. “Tell me why my ancestor owns you. I order you to.”
Pollyanna stood as still as a statue when he asked her.
His soft hand tightened around her wrist and he grabbed her other free hand with his own—making her look him in the eyes.
The pair gazed at each other silently for a spell.
Pain pierced Pollyanna’s heart with every moment that she didn’t tell Eory the truth.
He gave her an encouraging smile and whispered, “you can tell me…”
Pollyanna wrenched one of her hands away and used it to rub her arm uncomfortably.
She hadn’t realized how reluctant she was to tell him something so personal; she never thought of it as being something hard to tell, but then, she had never been forced to tell anyone about it before.
But she had to tell him now or she would die.
Pollyanna brushed past him—walking past the piles of yellow hair she had previously shorn from his head until she came upon a step at the back of the empty room and sat down on it. Eory followed her—his boots echoing on the tile ominously—and sat down next to her.
Pollyanna hunched over and lowered her eyes.
She took a deep breath.
“Human women have a precedent for the way they think their daughters should behave and act, and I didn’t fulfill that precedent. Because I didn’t, none of the men in the town were interested in me. Among humans, if no one is interested in a girl, that girl usually ends up at a convent.”
__
Pollyanna was fifteen and was expected to marry like all human women were at that age. If she didn’t find a suitor, she would be sent to a convent at age eighteen as it would be frowned upon for her to pick up a trade like a man would.
Pollyanna had dreams of her own, of course.
She wanted to be a grand heroine; she wanted to travel the lands protecting the innocent from both monsters and villains alike. She wanted to learn swordplay and be a knight, but her mother would never allow it.
Pollyanna, while she was a devout and religious girl, did not want to end up at a convent. She wanted to do something legendary with her life, and it was impossible to do anything of the sort living the humble life of a priestess.
And so she put on her best dresses and tried to be charming at social events—trying desperately to catch the eye of any boys who might be interested.
The boys turned their noses up at her and didn’t like the fact that they were always looking up at her. Her gruff manner didn’t help either.
There was only one who was interested in her; the boy who she had roughhoused with as a child—the one who had helped get her into trouble years ago.
His name was Rory.
His eyes were glued to her at social events. However, he was never brave enough to ask to court her during them.
All the other men would either ignore her or give her ugly looks.
She would sit next to a boy, introduce herself, and the boy would not even look her in the eyes. They would yawn and wait for her to leave.
Because she saw that Rory was looking at her yearningly, she sat down next to him once, too.
Nobody wanted either of them.
Nobody wanted Pollyanna because she was tall and muscular like a man, and nobody wanted Rory because he was an imp; not only was he an imp, but he was quiet like a woman.
They made polite conversation together.
They found that they liked each other very much and had a lot in common; including the dream of eventually becoming a knight.
Rory had been too shy--too nervous--to ask to court her that day, however.
Pollyanna had a great chance to get Rory's attention, however; it was a festival in which a traditional dance was performed by unmarried girls to catch the eye of any promising suitors.
Pollyanna learned all the steps and put on a vibrant dress with six different layers. Every layer was a different, bright color. The poof and color at the bottom of the dress was accentuated by the incredibly tight, black-colored bodice at the top—it gave her rather straight and boyish body the feminine curve she desired.
The dress moved beautifully.
The eligible men in town sat in a circle around a fire and watched the girls dance with hunger in their eyes.
Pollyanna kept glancing at Rory as she moved to the intoxicating music under the starry night sky.
He was looking at her, too, but he still looked to nervous to ask to court her.
In a desperate bid to let him know she was interested, she winked at him while no one was looking—he blushed and looked emboldened for the remainder of the dance.
Pollyanna and the rest of the eligible girls did curtsies at the end of the dance and dozens of men immediately flocked to the other girls.
Pollyanna, for her part, looked at Rory.
He had stood up and was coming her way with a confident stride. Pollyanna grinned.
If it weren’t un-ladylike, she would have dashed into his arms. As it were, she stood with her shoulders back and her head held high; her hands neatly clasped in front of her.
Rory held up a hand and opened his mouth to say something--but Pollyanna was wrenched away from him by an older man with a strong arm.
Pollyanna didn’t recognize him. “Who are you…?”
“My name is Kline, I’m a new citizen of your quaint little town. I used to be a noble at the castle, but I wished to live a quieter life in my twilight years. My wife died recently.”
He looked her over with eyes that saw her as little more than a meal.
Pollyanna looked to Rory and saw the look of devastation on his face.
She practically begged him with her eyes to save her—to ask him to court her.
He did no such thing.
__
“Mother wanted me to marry him. Of course, she had little choice in the matter even if she didn’t. Peasant girls are at the mercy of nobles. Besides. if I married him, mother and father would be made into wealthy nobles, too.” Pollyanna explained.
Her eyes were dry as dust.
Eory wondered how she could possibly feel so little at recounting such an ugly memory. “If you were considered so unsuitable for marriage, why did he pick you?”
Pollyanna wore a stony expression as she answered, “power. Men like that… They can smell fear on you. He could smell that I was the most frightened little girl at that festival, and therefore he knew that I was the one he wanted. Looks don’t matter to men like that; people like that want your tears and your misery at the fact that they know you belong to them and they can do anything they want to you.”
Eory’s headed pounded and his eyes glistened when he was confronted once again with just how cruel the world would be.
“Mother was all for selling me to that disgusting waste of space, but father wasn’t.” Pollyanna continued.
__
Pollyanna’s father, upon hearing the news that his wife was going to force their daughter to wed a man many years her senior, looked dumbfounded as he rubbed the back of his head in frustration.
Pollyanna could tell that he had a headache.
They all three sat on the creaky, wooden floor in their house and he asked his daughter, “do you want to marry him?”
Pollyanna looked down at her hands. She barely bit back tears. She nodded slowly—unable to meet her father’s eyes.
What he didn’t know was that her mother planned a sound beating for her if she didn’t nod and pretend like she wanted to marry Kline.
Her father looked her mother in the eyes, and then looked Pollyanna in the eyes.
He could tell that, deep down, his daughter didn’t want this.
“I don’t care what she says. This man is so much older than her and he has a reputation of marrying girls as young as possible so he can…” Her father remembered Pollyanna was in the room, and he cleared his throat. “I won’t allow it.”
“You will; it’s already been decided. He wants her for a wife, and one doesn’t say no to a noble.” Pollyanna’s mother stated firmly. “We will all live comfortably after it’s done. You won’t have to toil as much and…”
“No! I would rather her go to the convent! That man will do nothing but hurt her!” Pollyanna’s father interrupted loudly. “I’m sorry Pollyanna. I know what’s best for you; we’ll give you three more years to find a husband your age, and if you can’t, we’ll send you to a convent instead.”
Pollyanna was silent like a good little girl should be.
Inwardly she was thinking that neither of her options were good, and she was terrified of what might happen to her. Nonetheless, she sat quietly and submissively and let her future be decided for her.
Pollyanna’s mother had a stony face as she said lowly. “We’ll see.”
Pollyanna was fathomlessly relieved that her father had gotten her off the hook.
But disaster struck just a week later.
Her father died of a heart attack and her mother married her to Kline.
__
“You two,” the door opened and Maruka stepped inside. “Why aren’t you in bed? You have an early morning tomorrow.”
Pollyanna and Eory glanced at each other, and then at Maruka. Eory whispered to Pollyanna, “I rescind my order; you don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to. But if you do, you can visit me later tonight and I’ll listen if you have anything more to say.”
Pollyanna looked shocked at his kindness.
They shared a long gaze.
Pollyanna nodded blankly and left first—shouldering past Maruka and heading out the door.
Eory followed after.
On his way out, he smiled brightly at Maruka, “thank you for the lesson today and catching me up…”
Maruka nodded cheerfully. “If you want to, after our training session tomorrow, we can paint that room I was talking about.”
“I’d like that.” Eory said—looking at his feet shyly. “I never got to do much with paint in my tower. Kori didn’t like the mess it made.”