Jordyn
I wake to the incessant knocking on my door, dragging me from my harrowing dreams. I hated them, dreaming in general. Good or bad, I'd rather not dream at all. Fortunately, I almost never remember them. I dress, pulling on a robe and head towards the door ready to yell at whoever it is.
My brother stands at the door post looking bored and impatient, as though I am the one inconveniencing him.
"What?" I ask.
" I need a favour, "
"Cant you wait till morning?"
"No. Come now." he says, walking away.
I role my eyes and hurry along. Most people would be worried when some one comes knocking for them at the the most ungodliest hours. But not me, knowing my brother, he's probably acquired another illicit, frivolous package that requires two people to smuggle in.
We arrive a little outside the servants gate but its too dark make out what we re walking towards. As we get closer I realize it's a wagon bearing a crate, huddled far from the gate with no one by it. Impossibly reckless. I think to myself hoping its nothing that would seriously prosecute him if he was caught.
Ever since my parents became aware of my brothers little excursions they've always been one step ahead of him, or at least until he found out. They've had their network of spies keeping tabs on him and his excursions, intercepting his packages before they even reach the estate. Hence, I have become his only trustworthy accomplice
I sigh, taking in the size and weight of the crate. "Do I want to know?" I ask exasperated.
" I don't think so" he replies with a grin. Both pride and mischief play across his features.
I drop the subject. Not prying and keeping my mouth shut was part of our deal.
On the count of three we heave the crate over the wagon. I swear as my knees nearly buckle at the shear weight of it. "This is going to cost you four more sessions" I say between breaths as we both fumble like amateur rogues through the doors and down the halls.
"Its not my fault you're a weakling. He throws back at me mockingly.
I stick my tongue out at him but I can tell he s struggling almost as much as me.
When we finally reach the doors to his room, he goes in first to make sure its clear. As soon as the crate is pass the doors, he stops me then mutters something about taking it from here and swiftly shuts the doors in my face. It must be something really extravagant or dangerous if his this secretive about it.
~~
Dawn arrives far too soon given how little I've slept. When I wake I find that the servants have already drawn my bath and laid my clothes. I contemplate skipping my morning lessons. God they were incredibly boring and an utter waste of time but alas, my mother would just make me replace them. As the only daughter of the duke, my father wholly intended on making the most of my union, further consolidating his political power and position. Thus, I had to do my part in becoming an educated, accomplished lady for when a worthy suitor presented himself. That meant taking all sorts of lessons, ranging from the modern languages to dance and music lessons.
I manage to make it in time for my language lessons. Of all the languages, they made Korinthian compulsory to learn. An utterly useless second language which only the people of our nation, Korinth speak. Only the royals and upper class mainly spoke Neshrya which was the common tongue in the continent.
"Jordyn!" Someone calls to me from the doorway.
"You missed our dance lesson this morning" Jillian says sitting beside me. Jillian was uncharacteristically cheerful this morning. From the way her hair was intricately braided, it was clear she d actually gotten up earlier than usual this morning and spent extra time getting ready. Usually, she was a grouch till midmorning and her hair was always in an easy half up braid which was all her servants managed to do given how often she overslept.
"I had a late night. Why are you so cheery this morning?" I say, changing the topic.
"Jordyn, how could you forget! Today's the 15th!." She gushes. "The day the general and Lord Trowe, hand to the king of Durrac will be coming to court" She says trying to ring some kind of excitement out of me. Of course I hadn't forgotten, but I didn't see why it was cause to be excited or put extra effort into looking more presentable. They probably wouldn't even glance our way.
"Rumour has it the Lord Trowe is heartbreakingly handsome and recently single."
"Good for him"I say disinterested
Jillian sighs annoyed with me. "I swear sometimes I wonder if you ever plan to marry, I mean really its not like you can do anything else with your life."
I shrug off her remark. I know she doesn't mean it as an insult but it feels like one all the same. Jillian has been my closest confidant ever since I can remember, we tell each other everything. That is, up till about last year when my brother started involving me in his covert affairs. But aside from that, she was like a sister to me mainly due to our complicated families. She was considered an outcast by many due to the fact that she was illegitimate, a drunken accident between her father and a lady's maid. A secret not very well kept as he hurriedly remarried and had his new wife claim the child. That didn't stop the gossip though. His new wife did a fine job of playing the part of doting mother in public but really only saw her as a burden, especially since she gave the duke twin boys.
"Im sorry Jill, Im just tired and not quite fully awake yet. Perhaps I just need a cup of coffee."
"Very well." She says chuckling. I often linked every excuse to my caffeine addiction and she was quite used to it by now.
"Jordyn, my cousin will be visiting us this evening for the hearing and father is sending me to welcome him to court, care to join?" Jillian asks hopefully
"Which cousin, the one from Trent"?
" No, no that's Glen. Im quite sure you've never met this cousin before, he s a very, very distant cousin from the southern region"
" Sure, why not" I say. I don't mind really, I d hate for her to have to entertain her snobbish relatives who behave as though she's little more than a servant. Entitled, spoiled arrogant idiots.