“What did you say… it was called?”

“Oh, I’m a bastard, but I have good blood on my father’s side.”

The woman squinted out of the corner of her eye. Belviana blinked in surprise. She’d never seen a woman show her teeth so openly before. Especially not in social circles, where people were usually busy biting and nipping at each other’s weaknesses like a school of elegant sharks. In that sense, Mel was refreshingly shocking. Belviana liked this girl instantly.

“Why were you so deadpan, anyway?”

Mel asked, sitting down with her legs haphazardly on the marble floor. Belviana drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected question. The only thing that kept her from getting angry at the rude remark was Mel’s demeanor, the way she seemed to shrug off whatever she heard.

Even if she were to confess to killing someone, she would say, “Oh, well.” It would have been the same if it had been someone from the convent instead of the Mel. She wanted to pour out this overflowing emotion, even if just a little bit, and she didn’t know anything about her situation, so she was a more appropriate person to talk to. She spoke with a casualness that surprised even herself.

“Someone I’ve known for …… years died.”

Mel scratched her head and sighed heavily.

“He must have been a really nice guy to have that look on his face.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was, well, more of a…….”

When she didn’t speak easily, Mel asked again.

“Was he someone you liked a lot?”

The words were unbearable. Belviana looked like she was going to cry at any moment, and then laughed like a sigh.

“Yes. Yes, I liked him, though I didn’t realize it until much later.”

The admission, out loud for the first time, felt heavier and more bittersweet than she expected. The slow afternoon sunlight, the library, and the remnants of her past shook her like a roadblock. Before she could hold it in any longer, Belviana sprang from her seat. As soon as she opened the door and took a few steps, tears spilled out uncontrollably. Belviana slowly sank to the ground.

*

Life at the convent had been miserable, but it had become bearable with the arrival of spring. At least it was much better than the winter, when she had to wash her face in freezing water every morning.

For the first few weeks, she was able to live in some semblance of elegance with the supplies Ben provided, but by the end of the winter, they were gone. She wrote to him several times, but he never answered. She must have used up his generous grant from the Count of Lester.

Now Belviana was forced to use lard candles instead of scented ones, and stiff quill pens instead of fine goose feather quills. When she had managed to turn some of the better quality towels, which fortunately remained in generous supply, into something useful, all she had left were old, ragged things.

Life in the convent was simpler and more straightforward than anything she had ever known. She had to prove her worth through hard labor to earn her dinner at night. A life of mindless prayer was out of the question, at least in the convent at Aalborg. The harsh, barren north was full of people in need of all kinds of help. It was hard work for Belviana to keep up with the tasks of gardening, dishwashing, and cleaning. But even more painful was the food.

The quality of the food was getting worse by the day. Turnips, potatoes, beans, and oats were all that was available, and even that was not enough. Unless there was a special occasion, the rations alternated between two potatoes and oat bread, turnip soup and oat bread, and bean puree and oat bread. Occasionally, on special religious occasions, they were supplemented with paper-thin cheese and inferior wine.

She worked tirelessly, caring for orphans, going on medical missions, and writing her dissertation by candlelight in the hours that remained after evening prayers. The academy diploma was the only thing she could cling to. A diploma would make her life easier in so many ways, perhaps even land her a job in the private governance of a lord. But only in the hills, away from Lester’s influence.

The longer she stayed at the convent, the less of a socialite she became. The life she’d been accustomed to leading had faded away by the end of the year. The Count of Lester, whose jeweled fan was the heaviest thing she held in her hand, had long since fallen to pieces without a trace. Her fingertips were cracked from washing sheets in cold water, and her knuckles were calloused from repetitive labor. Her once-white complexion had become too pale, and her skin quickly became rough without the luxury of makeup.

During this painful time, Mel was a great source of comfort. She was moderately aristocratic, and usually free-spirited; they would sometimes skip catechism and kill time in the library or the fields, and as punishment they would stay up until dawn cleaning the kitchen, the fireplace, and the great hall. Belviana adapted to the convent clumsily but dutifully. She was too young, too young to count the days until her death, buried in her painful past.

Time passed, mostly in silence, sometimes in stillness. Aiden came in sleepless dawns, or lonely nights, and the sensation was sometimes so vivid that she would follow his trail for a long time after waking from her dreams. A voice lingering in her ear, a familiar embrace, a warm breath……. It was so real that for months after her first dream, she frantically searched for news of him. But all that came back was despair.

The recognition of her feelings came too late, and the cruel wounds left behind by a man who was already dead were slow to heal. It was only by crawling back into this cesspool that she realized that even though she hated Aiden like crazy, she could forgive him for everything if she could just see him one more time. Even if it was just once, from a distance. Belviana clenched her fists. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see Aiden so badly, despite all the evil things he’d done.

*

By the beginning of her second summer at the convent, the country was abuzz with talk of war. The Western Front, barely held together for the past two years, had crumbled. Word came that Warnerton’s two mines and the western desert trading rights had been lost to the Saxon Empire as war reparations. Warnerton’s five mines were the source of the wealth of the fertile West, and for centuries he had fought to keep them. As the fall began, a defeated soldier, Sutton, came over the mountains and took up residence at the convent. By this time, the chill of war had settled over the convent.

There were days when even the oat bread that was available was in short supply. For more than three weeks, only watery potato soup and steamed beans were rationed. Nevertheless, Belviana and Mel persevered, their life force as strong as the greenery rooted in the barren soil. One of the two good things that came out of the war was that most of the rooms in the living quarters were left almost abandoned, as the middle-class retreatants returned to their homes. The other was that there was a lot of free time, and Belviana and Mel chose the best and largest room in the house to make their hideout.

They scavenged good-quality carpets, sofas, and tea tables that the retreatants had discarded and turned the room into a parlor, where they spent most of their time. Belviana pulled a book she’d read dozens of times already from a sturdy oak bookcase and buried herself in the overstuffed couch. Mel tossed a log into the fireplace and asked.

“How did your thesis defense go?”

“Oh, that.”

Belviana corrected her slouching position and sat up, rubbing her hand over her chin. She’d bundled her thesis and vacation assignments together a few months ago and sent them to the Academy, and the telegram about the results had arrived in the mail last night.

“I haven’t seen it yet.”

“What? You got the letter last night.”

“I just……. What if it fell through the cracks?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You worked so hard, you must have gotten it, I know.”

Mel sounded uncharacteristically cheerful, and Belviana laughed, making a wind-up sound.

“I’ll take my time. It’s better to at least have hope.”

“Yeah. Well……, you’ll figure it out.”

“I guess catechism is canceled again today?”

“Probably. They’re too busy to bother with us, and all the better-off girls have gone home to their families. It’s just a bunch of us lowlifes left.”

Mel stretched out in front of the fireplace like a cat and propped herself up on her arms.

“Anything left, anyway?”

“No. We cashed in everything we had.”