The childhood Oris had taken a vote. Every day, they would take a hike through the woods close to their cottage, and search for lost inner children. Not everyone came; that was okay.
Baby Ori could not believe there were so many children and fragments of children in the forest. Before, in consciousness, she had believed she was the only child left in the body. And perhaps, at one point she had been.
Often, the found-children wore monster costumes. They growled and roared and said, “Stay away! Stay away from me!”
Yet, if you dared to look closely, you could see the cheap fabric and the buttons holding it all together.
The Oris would tell them, “No, you’re not a monster. Come live with us. We can play all day, and you can have your own room in our cottage.”
As miraculous as magic, the costume would fall away. Underneath it all would be a child, crying tears of relief. It was lonely to be a monster in a sea of unconscious darkness. It was confusing to be a child that only existed to be thrown away. It was hellish to be stuck inside a traumatic memory, forever.
How clever and pragmatic the human body was. How did it learn to make itself into a many-layered collage before it could even speak? How did it learn to be its own community?
Since the body could do all this from birth, it begged the question: is every human being a collection of millions of moments, and each moment is contained by millions of selves?
Well, these thoughts were too deep for Baby Ori. They came and went, like fallen leaves drifting down the creek.
“This is the main hallway,” Baby Ori was telling a new Ori. “All you have to do is wish for it, and a new room will appear.” She smiled, “You can design it however you’d like!”
The new child, in awe, looked at the empty wall. “Anything I like?”
Baby Ori giggled, “Yes! And you can lock your door, or keep it open. You can make it bright inside, or dark. You can come outside to play, or you can stay inside. It’s up to you.”
In an instant, a door appeared. The new child ran to it, slipped inside, and shut it.
Baby Ori heard it lock. Feeling satisfied, she left the cottage to play.
Today the fields were full of bright orange butterflies.
—-
It had been two mornings since Lady Ori had spoken to the King and his Court. She’d decided to accept her Uncle Foix’s invitation to stay at his estate after she’d seen him cry. She had been curious after seeing the expression of regret and grief on his face.
She sat in the garden with her cousins, Juju and Fion, drinking tea. It was a dreamlike moment.
Foix’s youngest, Fion, sat close and had her arm linked with Lady Ori’s. She was chatting idly.
The eldest daughter, Juju, was patting the little dog on her lap and listening.
Lady Ori was weaving wildflowers in the way they had taught her. Later, she’d probably just throw them away.
Count and Contessa Foix entered the garden, their faces pale.
Count de Artois followed them.
Lady Ori stopped her weaving.
After quick greetings, Artois nodded to her. “I come bearing news.”
Both Foix daughters sat up straighter and looked at their cousin with worried expressions.
Lady Ori was in a specific sort of mood but was glad to see Artois.
The Foix estate was idyllic. The parents loved their children. The children loved their parents. As a result, the servants never looked nervous or uncomfortable. The house ran with little to no drama. The food was excellent, and the animals were well cared for.
Lady Ori could barely stand the unease she felt in this environment. She waited for the next shoe to drop: for her cousins to get into a fist fight, or for her Aunt and Uncle to berate her. She expected a servant to disrespect her. She even felt suspicious of the food. When they smiled at her, she frowned.
She had thoughts like: Why would these people allow her to stay here? What did they want from her? Why were they pretending to like her?
She would have preferred to stay in the Rohan estate with all its familiar horrors. That was why, when Artois entered the garden, she felt incredible relief. Here, finally, was bad news.
Lady Ori felt blessed adrenaline creep through her body as she prepared herself.
If she were to be realistic, it was more likely that the King would prefer to put her to death. If so, she’d need to feel out Artois and see if he would be willing to aid in her escape.
There was no issue with money or lodgings. She’d done sex work before, as Julie, so she’d be able to survive no matter where she went. If she made enough, she could even open up an upscale brothel in another country—
“You seem to be in deep thought, my lady,” Artois said. “Although I don’t know how you’ll feel about this—.”
Lady Ori blinked, remembering where she was.
“My Lady, Sir Jonathon has been sentenced to hanging. The Knights de Rohan have been dismantled—“
Lady Ori began to tingle all over like glitter was running up her bloodstream.
Sir Artois smiled, “This part is wholly good news, however. You’ve been cleared of all wrongdoing.”
Lady Ori looked down at the flowers she had been weaving. She looked at her elder cousin, Juju, and then her younger cousin, Fion.
Both young women were not looking at her, they were looking at their mother.
Contessa Foix stood next to her husband, elegant and proud. Her elder sister, Contessa de Rohan, was dead. Her niece, a murderer. Her illegitimate nephew, once a decently respected knight, would be hung. Tears streamed down her face. She held her head high and said nothing.
Lady Ori then looked at her Uncle Foix.
He, too, was looking at his wife. He encircled her in a gentle hug, shielding her face from Artois.
Soon, his daughters joined him. Even the little dog sat at their feet.
Awkwardness hung in the air around Lady Ori.
The Foix family were neither close enough to celebrate her revenge, nor distant enough to be unaffected by this outcome.
Lady Ori stood up and gestured for Artois to follow her.
He raised his eyebrows and did so. They walked out of the gardens and back into the estate.
Behind them, the Foix family were talking and soothing each other.
Lady Ori ordered tea service and then offered Artois a seat in the sitting room. “What does this mean, ultimately, Count de Artois?”
Artois clasped his hands in his lap. “The Rohan estate is expected to be inherited by your cousin, Luke de Candel. He will bring his knights, so ultimately this decision will not affect him.”
Lady Ori sighed. “So I’m being kicked out.”
Artois nodded, “Unless the Contessa’s Last Will and Testament says otherwise.”
Lady Ori scoffed. The tea arrived and she poured Artois a cup. “I like you very much, Lord Artois.”
Artois smiled into his tea, “That’s very kind of you, Lady Ori.”
Lady Ori took a sip from her cup, then set it back onto the saucer. “Can I be very frank with you?”
Artois set his cup down. “Yes, go ahead.”
Lady Ori sighed through her nose and crossed her legs. “I’m more than sure that I’ll inherit nothing from Contessa de Rohan.”
Artois grimaced, “That’s very likely.”
Lady Ori leaned in. “Therefore, I’m completely free. I own nothing but the Rohan name. I can go in any direction I’d like.”
Artois looked surprised. “You are engaged, my lady.”
Lady Ori tilted her head. “You don’t really believe the Broglie family would allow me to marry their son, do you? I’ve already admitted to slitting my own mother’s throat.”
Artois was glad he had set down his teacup. The woman in front of him seemed to be an entirely different person than he’d met before. Chills rolled down his spine. “My lady…to say it like that…”
Lady Ori nodded. She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. “Artois, do you have any sons?”
Artois began to feel uncomfortable. He rubbed his chin. “Are you hoping to marry into the Artois family, my Lady?”
Lady Ori continued to look out of the window. A beautiful black spider was crawling on the window sill. “It’s an option.” She turned her sharp blue eyes on him. “Not my only option, but I wouldn’t mind looking at them.”
Artois paused for a long time. “Will you be staying with the Foix family?”
Lady Ori pulled a face. “My God, I hope not.” She picked up her teacup and drank. “The longer I burden the Foix family the more awkward it will become.” She shook her head. “I’ll either need to marry soon, or run away.”
Artois startled, “Run away? Surely there’s no reason to do that?”
Lady Ori smiled at him, “No reason? Look around, Lord Artois. There’s a reason to run free in every bottle of laudanum, and every coca leaf.”
“My Lady!” coughed Artois.
Lady Ori smirked at him. She did like Artois a lot. She thought that she wouldn’t mind him as a father-in-law. He was easy to convince, and fun to scare. “Well, invite me to dinner with your family if you’d like. I’ll always accept.”
She set down her teacup. “I suppose I’ll have to go down and say goodbye to Jonathon.”
Artois battled the desire to shiver. No—this was not the sweet, gentle Lady Ori of the rumors, nor the saddened and sickly girl of two days ago. This was an entirely different breed of woman. He excused himself and stood up to leave.
She winked at him, her red lips curled into a mischievous smile, “I await your letter, Lord Artois.”
—-
