Fraud
Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2016 9:48 pm
“I weary for desires never guessed,
For alien passions, strange imaginings,
To be some other person for a day.”
Amy Lowell.
Timestamp: 2nd of Saun, 716For alien passions, strange imaginings,
To be some other person for a day.”
Amy Lowell.
“My lady!”
Sabine’s skirts swirled behind her in a river of red satin as she rushed down the white marble stairs. Abby was going to kill her. She had an article due in three breaks and hadn’t done on ounce of research. Immortals, who even wanted to read about the Saun 716 crop ratio as it compared to Saun 715? Was that really the best use of anyone’s time?
“My lady, please!”
When was her boss going to assign her the real work, anyway? She was getting sick of community pieces and chasing down idle gossip. Gray’s words from Ashan rang in her mind as she swept across the empty hallway, and she was reminded of the futility of her job. She’d tried to add a more investigative spin, but somehow she was always pulled back to writing about the best ale, or the latest party, or the newest scandal.
Oh, crap.
She was turning into Fern.
“Stop, Lady Sabine!” A harried-looking man who looked to have a good sixty arcs behind him grasped her elbow to still her movement. “I’m sorry, my lady, but you must not leave the estate tonight. Your mother was very explicit; she says you’re expected at dinner to help entertain our guests.”
“What?” Sabine pulled her arm away and crinkled her nose in confusion. “I think you’re mistaken. I’m no lady.”
The man tutted. “Really, Lady Sabine. This is no time to be playing games. Please, you must get ready.” He gripped her upper arm with surprising strength, and began to direct her away from the front door with complete disregard for her attempts to break free.
“I’m telling you, you have the wrong woman!”
He sighed. “My lady-”
"Don't call me that.”
“-if I may be so bold as to say-”
“You may not.”
“-if you aren’t Lady Sabine Andaris, then I’m not the same valet who has served this family for three generations.”
Her struggle ceased. “What did you just say?”
“Then I’m not the same valet who-”
“No, not that. Before. Did you say… Andaris?”
“Yes, I said Lady Sabine Andaris.” The valet looked at her with increasing concern. “My lady, are you quite all right? Have you hit your head? Come now, how many fingers am I holding up?”
“I…”
“Perhaps I should summon the family physician to look you over after our guests leave. Do you think you can make it through dinner?”
Sabine nodded mutely and allowed him to guide her through the estate. The gold trim walls and floral paintings passed by in a blur as she fell into herself, lost in a haze of confusion.
Andaris… The name had turned her stomach, drawn sweat to her brow, and made her muscles seize with hatred for nearly two arcs. But here was this man, telling her that she was an Andaris. It was a complete impossibility.
And yet.
The valet dropped his hand from her arm as the pair entered the expansive dining room, and bowed before leaving. Sabine smoothed her dress and readied herself to resume the argument with whomever this supposed “mother” of hers was. Would it be someone she knew? A friend who was playing a (rather cruel and expensive) trick?
She scanned the long oak dining table, searching for a familiar face among the many that populated it.
There, at the back.
Wait.
No.
It couldn’t possibly be-
“Father?”