Bloodmark

26: Hair Clip

[first draft; feedback, critique, and comments welcome; please point out any typos] 

Sitting beside the basins and not washing any laundry makes me feel out of place. Guilt gnaws at my liver. Hands twisting, I ask Clementine for the fifth time if I can help her.

Giggling, she shakes her head. "For the last time, Mara, no. These are the Feeder sheets, remember?"

My nose crinkles. But Felice rushes to mind, as does her offer to talk about this lifestyle. Her easygoing demeanor tempts me to take her up on the offer and visit her in the recreation room of the Feeder wing. But her previous ties to King Atlas give me pause.

"It feels wrong," I admit, "to sit around and do nothing while you work endlessly."

"Is it work if you enjoy it though?"

After a beat, we say simultaneously, "Yes," before giving into laughter.

Savion's lessons have also taught me to seek out and cherish laughter.

"Don't think of it as you're doing nothing," Clementine continues as she beats out some of the water. She carries the sheet to the drying lines, saying, "You're keeping me company. And that's doing something."

Hand against my eye, guilt continues to chew my insides. "Isn't it strange that I'm here?" I gesture to the satin gown I wear that, when beneath beams of light, flickers silver. Even the emerald travel cloak I had worn on my way here is of far greater quality than the cotton uniform Clementine dons.

She studies me a moment before shrugging a shoulder. "Alright, it is unusual for a Mark to socialize with me. But you're an unusual Mark. In a good way, of course."

One of the Siervs empties a bucket of fresh, warm water into a bason. Bucket on her hip and hand on her cheek, she says, "Could you imagine being culled as a Mark?"

A chorus of squeals and giggles follows.

"It would certainly be a load-off," says another Sierv. "An immediate member of the Court."

"The luxury!"

As the laundry workers exchange excited prattle, a smile finds my face. Here, life and activity overflow. Compared to the quiet and isolation of the noble wings, there is solidarity and joy here, even a certain amount of peace. I miss it.

My guilt grows as they dream of my reality. While becoming a Mark had not been my intention—and it had, in fact, been entirely an accident—it does not erase that I now live what they wish they could. It's made especially apparent by the difference in our attires.

"Speaking of," Clementine says over the ruckus, quieting the room, "where's your vampyr, Mara?"

Her insinuating grin brings a furious blush to my cheeks. A couple Siervs "ooh" the question, and my shoulders curl in.