The Golden Orb

to the pond

Song selection: "Empire" by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Amery walked down the path to the pond, hearing the crunch of long-since dead leaves under her feet. She kicked away the stray branches that blocked her path and ignored the vines that snagged the hem of her dress, focusing only on following the path that wound around massive trees. She rounded a curve, and saw the pond. Verdant leaves shrouded the pond from prying eyes and the sun's rays, but it still shimmered and sparkled, reflecting the mossy rocks, vibrant flowering bushes, and craggy trees. A small stone footbridge crossed the pond at a narrow point near some cattails and water lilies. Amery didn't know how the stone bridge had come to be—she was too afraid to ask—but she thanked the ancestor who recognized the pond's value and had cultivated so much life. It had been well-tended at one point, but had long since grown up. Only when she had been trying to hide from a particularly nosey courtier's son had she stumbled upon the place. It had saved her then and many times after, providing her a place to unwind and bind up fresh wounds.

As she followed the edge of the pond to the stone footbridge, the soles of her shoes sticking to the muddy soil, she thought about the conversation, turning it over in her mind like a rough stone she hoped to smooth in her hands. She didn't hear contradictions; she heard her sister's pain.

Reaching into her pocket for the orb, which had been uncomfortably weighing her dress down, she tossed it into the air and caught it. Up and down again and again until she stood on the footbridge. Then she spoke aloud, shaking loose the thoughts she'd been holding back all day.

"I'll be next at some point," she said, addressing no one in particular. "My hand, too, will be forced. Some suitor with a gleam in his eye will tramp up the steps and make an offer. And as harsh as Candace was, she was not wrong. There will be the proposal, the wooing, the wedding, the bedding, the children and, eventually, the mistresses." She shook her head. There were always mistresses. "But maybe I'll be lucky? Maybe they aren't all that way?"

Amery knew that not all of the men in the castle treated women poorly. The butcher and his wife had offered her a place to stay if she needed somewhere safe. As a child, she had been friends with the stable hands and the groomers. However, she had seen her father's chief advisor, Sir. Mallory, corner one of the chambermaids and kiss her. The chambermaid had waited until the advisor was gone before she started to cry.

"Prince Orren isn't married yet. He may be on his best behavior now and wait until after he has his heirs," she said, sitting down on the bridge. "He may be just like Father."

Amery and Candace both had seen their father grab after one of the female scribes one day when they were walking around the castle with Maura. Maura herself had fended off advances, though she never spoke of what had happened.

In the brief pause, Amery heard a small splash and looked across the pond to see a frog swimming toward her. Its speckled green body glistened in the diffuse sunlight, but its large black eyes were fixed on the young woman as it swam past several lily pads. Only once it reached the lily pad closest to Amery did the frog haul itself up on one and sit with its gangly legs folded under its fat body. It sat quietly, still staring, almost as though it were waiting patiently for the speaker to resume her intermittent monologue.

"Sir Frog, thank you for joining me this afternoon," she said with a soft laugh. "Just now I find myself sorting out my problems and so I ask you this: how could Prince Orren not want to be faithful to my sister Candace, his betrothed? She's beauty itself and who can compare to her?"

The frog blinked and opened its mouth as though it wanted to respond, but Amery waved her hand at it and continued.

"I know what you're about to say, Sir Frog. Appearances do not matter when it comes to fidelity. Beautiful women and plain women have been cheated on alike." As she considered the idea, she couldn't think of a single married man at court who wasn't unfaithful. In Amery's mind, the men in power had the privilege to treat anyone however they wanted.