The Pass Phrase chapter 5

The Dream

Little had to move fast to keep up, which was not what she expected. It was easy, though, because the crowd parted in front of the lady of the manor. She stopped in uncertainty when they reached a carriage and the lady stepped up inside.

The lady fixed Little with a yellow stare. “Keep up,” she said mildly.

Little blinked, and the lady’s eyes were green again. She managed a little bow and stepped up into the carriage. She hesitated for a moment, and then settled onto the seat across from the lady.

“Call me Mrs. Winters,” the lady ordered lazily. She took off her gloves one by one. Little watched how she grasped a fingertip and then let the whole piece slide off, like a snake shedding a skin. “Don’t duck your head so much. You look too…” her lips curled. “You look like a fawn in the woods, darling, and nobody like that.”

Little bobbed her head. “Yes, Mrs. Winters,” she said, even though that was not the name of the family she served. She kept her confusion off of her face.

Winters sighed and glanced out the window. The carriage jolted into movement. “We are going to see a friend of mine. Cringe less when you see him, I don’t want him to see weakness.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Little said reflexively. At the look that garnered she corrected, “Yes, Mrs. Winters.”

“Lovely,” Winters said, in a bland tone. “You are clay, my darling girl.” She eyed Little with an amused little sneer. “Clay to be molded into something quite special. Incredible that it was missed for so long.”

Little stared.

“Can you read, child?” Mrs. Winters reached into the deep pocket tied at her waist and drew out a red-bound book, about the size of a hand.

Little nodded. “Passably well, Mrs. Winters. Not fluently.”

Winters made a clicking sound with her tongue and leaned back slightly. “Read to me. From page 96.”

Little hurried to obey, opening the book with shaking hands. It was some kind of history, and she didn’t know the people it was about. But Mrs. Winters closed her eyes and seemed to enjoy it, even though Little occasionally stumbled and had to sound out longer words. Occasionally she cut in to correct Little’s pronunciation.

It was oddly, uncomfortably similar to how Little’s father had taught her to read, back when he had been a high ranking servant so well-paid that her family had lived off of the grounds.

She tried to stay alert, but found herself slipping into nostalgia. Her hindbrain told her this was wrong, this was dangerous, the woman across from her was a monster.

On some level, Little liked Mrs. Winters.

‘It’s magic. It has to be.’

When the carriage finally stopped, Little followed Mrs. Winters silently. She could feel her lips pressing together too tightly. They’d be white. She felt fragile.

They walked up a short path. Servants bowed deeply on either side. Winters paid them no attention at all. Little walked that bit faster and tried not to let on that the hair was standing up at the back of her neck.

“Mrs. Winters,” greeted a butler. He didn’t look up at her from his bow. “This way, madame.”

They shed their coats inside the entryway and Little tried not to feel miserably self conscious when she caught a maid giving her lank dress a surprised look. There was no time to dwell on it because an uncomfortably tall man was striding towards them.

“Winters,” he purred, stretching his hands out. “A delight.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Mrs. Winters accepted his touch and let him kiss the back of her gloved hand. “Pine, darling, this is the girl.” Her yellow gaze flicked back to Little. “I’ve decided to call her Nova.”

‘What?’ Little felt her mouth fall open in astonishment. ‘You can’t just rename another person.’

Well. She shut her mouth and felt weak at the thought of saying that her legal name was Christine. Perhaps Winters could just give her a new name after all.

“Oh, dear.” Pine drew his head back to inspect Little in an eerily serpentine movement. “What have we here…”

Little considered looking down and bowing. And then she remembered the admonishment to be less cringing. So she fixed Pine with direct eye contact, smiled, and curtsied as if to a social equal. “Charmed,” she said, if shakily.

Pine’s eyebrows slowly slid up. He let out a hum in the back of his throat. Then he turned back to Winters. “I see what you mean.”

“Marvelous potential,” she agreed. She gave Little an approving look. “Nova, darling, go down that hall and take the second right.”

“Oh, quite,” Pine agreed. He looked at Little again, in a way that felt friendlier and less assessing. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Join us in the library after.”

She inclined her head and left as she was told, baffled but very willing to leave the two scariest people she’d ever met. The hallway was long. Every door that she saw was closed, except the second on the right. It led into an airy room with a porcelain tub, surrounded by warm rugs.

A maid met her with a cringing bow inside the designated room. “Let me take your clothes, Miss,” she said.

Little gave her a startled look, but began shedding her clothes. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said. “I’m nobody important.” She stepped out of her dress and began unpicking her hair.

The maid didn’t look at her directly when she accepted the soiled garment. “The water is warm, Miss. Shall I wash your hair for you?”

‘...she’s afraid of me. She doesn’t believe me. She probably thought that was some way to trick her into being rude so I could have her punished.’

Unnerved, Little accepted the offer of hair washing. She was very quickly glad that she had. She let her eyes slide closed and she might have actually fallen asleep while her head was massaged. It was hard to say, but she certainly dreamed.

Little slipped away into a fantasy world, where she truly was Nova. This wouldn’t be a foreign luxury to her. Servants brought her clean clothes every day. She spent her days in comfort and ate fine food. She rode a horse for exercise, she studied magic for her mind. She never wanted, she never needed, she never had to do a damn thing that didn’t serve her purpose.

The water was still warm when she roused. Another servant girl brought her a linen shift, stays, and an orange gown. It hung heavily when she held it up, weighed down by the black beading curling up from the hem. It was fine material and finer handiwork. She had the strangest feeling that she deserved to wear it.

She put it on. She wasn’t surprised that it fit.

Meet them in the library, they’d said.

Nova tossed her hair over one shoulder, deciding to let it hang rather than tie it up as a good girl should. She glanced at the servant. “Take me to the library,” she said, “please.”