“He cut my ear twice. I had to have it stitched!” I tried to tell her, but she shushed me furiously as the door closed behind her. Before her visit, I had been wearily relaxed and ready for sleep. Now, despite my fatigue, I could not drift off, even after I blew out my candle. I lay in the big soft bed and listened to the rain hitting the window glass and wondered if I was ordinary and boring. Eventually I decided that Epiny was too eccentric to even know what “ordinary” was, and thus I was able to fall asleep.
Only my youth, I am sure, made me jolt awake at the chambermaid’s timid tap at my door early the next morning. Unthinking, I bade her come in, and then stayed where I was, blushing beneath my covers, as she fetched warm wash water and then bundled away my traveling clothes for freshening and brushing. I was greatly unaccustomed to being cared for in such a way, and even after she had left, it took me some little time before I dared venture from my bed, lest she return unannounced. When I did, I washed and dressed hastily. Habit made me tidy my room, and then I wondered if the maid would think me odd and rustic that I had spread up my bedding myself. Then I became irritated with myself that I would worry so much about what a maid might think of me. Having pushed that concern from my mind, I began to consider nervously all that my uncle had said of the Academy the night before. Had I had any more time by myself, it is likely I would have worked myself into a fine lather, but luckily for me, another knock at my door summoned me to an early breakfast with my uncle and father.
Both were up, shaved, and neatly attired for the day despite our late night. I had expected to see my aunt and cousins at table, but there were no extra settings and my uncle made no mention of them. The help served us a hearty breakfast of kippers and a mixed grill with tea and toast. Sleep had revived my appetite, until my uncle observed, “Eat well, Nevare, for I’ve heard that a young man’s first meal at the Academy is a hurried one. I doubt that your noon meal will please you as well as this breakfast does.”
At his words, my appetite fled, and I asked my father, “Am I to go directly to the Academy today then, Father?”
“We think it best that you do. Your uncle has agreed to keep Sirlofty here until such time as you are allowed to have your own mount. We’ll make one stop for a boot fitting with a cobbler Sefert recommends, and then I’ll escort you to the Academy. You’ll be a day ahead of most of the others. Perhaps it will give you a chance to settle in before your classmates arrive.”
And so it was done. Breakfast was scarcely finished before a footman came to announce that my trunks had been loaded onto my uncle’s carriage. My uncle bade me farewell at the door and advised my father that there was to be an excellent venison roast with wild plum sauce for dinner.
We were walking to the carriage when Epiny suddenly hastened down the steps after us. She was still in a nightgown with a robe flung over it, but now her curling brown hair was loose about her shoulders. By daylight, I estimated her to be only a few years younger than me. Yet she seemed childish when she cried out, “Nevare, Nevare, you cannot leave when you have not even said farewell!”
“Epiny! You are much too old to be running about in your nightclothes!” my uncle rebuked her, but there was suppressed mirth in his voice, and from it I suspected that she was her father’s favorite.
“But I must bid my cousin good luck, Father! Oh, I told you I should have stayed up last night. I knew it! Now we’ve had no time at all to talk, and I had so looked forward to doing a reading for him, to foretell his success or failure at the Academy.” She stepped back from me, lifting her hands to frame my face as if she were planning to paint my portrait. She narrowed her eyes to slits and said in a hushed voice, “Perhaps I misjudged you? How could I have thought you ordinary? Such an aura. Such a magnificent aura, twice what I’ve seen on any other man. It burns red with a man’s vigor close to your skin, but a second corona of green says you are nature’s child, and a loving son to her-”
“And that sort of nonsense is exactly why you were not allowed to stay up to greet him! Bid him the good god’s blessing, Epiny, and then he must be on his way. Nevare cannot let a silly little girl and her play-pretend nattering delay him on an important day like this.” True impatience and perhaps a bit of embarrassment had crept into her father’s voice. I stood still as she pattered up to me, her little slippers peeping from beneath her robe. She stood on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and bid me godspeed. “Come to dinner soon! I regularly die of boredom here!” she whispered hastily, and then she let me go.